UNTITLED
May we learn by heart
that live is three quarters love
and one quarter “I.”
(c) Marie Elena Good 2017
pictured words
a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
Tag: Love
April 25, 2024
February 24, 2024
THIRTEEN (a sonnet for Sophia Rose)
Our hearts were lit the moment you were born.
This blue-eyed chubby cherub, ours to hold.
It seemed you brought with you a love well worn;
If you could speak, the stories you’d have told.
Your toddler legs gave movement toward your dreams.
But no, not near enough for your designs.
You needed flight to capture those moonbeams,
And wishes aren’t contained by boundary lines!
In thirteen years, you’ve hardly changed a bit:
You’re soft of heart, while strong of mind and drive.
You’re beautiful. You can’t contain your wit.
It’s our delight to watch you grow and thrive.
We see inside those laughing eyes of blue,
Intelligence and warmth reside in you.
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
Happy Birthday, Soph! We love you!
Nonna and Poppa
January 14, 2024
GOD CREATED ALL THINGS (By James F. Fagnano)
He created all that we are,
and are not aware of.
And so that we might “know,”
he created all things in opposite,
and extremes.
He created joy.
The unbounded joy in everything that is good and beautiful.
And sorrow.
The unending sorrow of man’s inhumanity to man.
He created heat
So searing, it turns all it touches into itself.
And cold
So penetrating, it can suspend the very essence of life.
He created the winds
With power enough to destroy anything man erects.
And calm
So still, even the spider’s web is unmoved.
He created love
So full and without reservation, that he gave us his son.
And hate
So destructive, it renders us incapable of love and joy.
And he created you.
You are joy.
The joy that brought balance to the sorrows of life.
You are love.
The love that reproduced itself in two beautiful children.
You are warmth.
The warmth in a world that often seems cold and uncaring.
You have been like a cool breeze,
blowing gently through my life.
And like God,
Who created all things,
I, too, will love you
Forever.
© James F. Fagnano
(Dad wrote this for Mom, for her 60th birthday.)
January 15, 2023
VISIT WITH GRANDPA
Visit with Grandpa
Walking up my street,
I see a man walking toward me.
Aww. Looks like Grandpa, I think,
knowing it couldn’t be.
As we get closer, there is no mistaking.
Yes, it is Grandpa.
I don’t want to wake up, and miss out.
He approaches me.
“Grandpa!”
He gives me a hug.
As is nearly always the case when I dream
of the dead, all senses are engaged.
“Grandpa, what are you doing here?”
He says he came to tell me not to worry about
circumstances that were consuming me.
Everything would be just fine.
Then he says, “You know I can’t stay.”
Yes, of course.
I just don’t want to lose him again
so quickly.
“But I will come back,” he assures.
He hugs me again, and,
just that quick,
he’s gone.
My long, detailed dream continues.
It seems to last a good portion of the night.
Suddenly, there he is again.
This time, he doesn’t speak.
His silence stills me,
while it declares a grand reassurance.
I wake from the dream,
recognizing it hadn’t been merely a dream.
And I smile.
When he said he would return,
I hadn’t realized he meant
that quickly.
That night.
That dream.
© Marie Elena Good 2023
November 9, 2022
Blustery (Hygge)
blustery out there
but warm in here with my love
welcoming blizzards
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2022
November 1, 2022
“Asking for a friend.”
WD November Chapbook Challenge. Day 1. Write a beginning poem, or an ending poem
“Asking for a friend”
Dear fellow persons,
When did handwritten letters
become an art form?
Birthday greetings change
from carefully picked cards, to
instant facebook posts?
Did spelling our words
become an imposition
on us? idk.
When did we mutate
from people people, to mere
convenience junkies?
Have we managed to
make effortlessness a god
of our own doing?
A god that will bring
us to our knees when we see
it filched our intents
made us its robots
robbed us of our humanness
made us drop our
love.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
August 28, 2022
Ears to Hear
She sits in silence, listening for God to speak. But she hears no one. She sits in darkness, watching for God’s appearance. But she sees nothing. She grasps at the air, trying to feel God’s presence. But she feels nothing. She raises her voice. “Abba! Father! Where are You?” He, soundlessly, speaks. She closes her eyes, absorbing His attention, knowing who He is. Her heart hears His voice in both silence and sound. He gives her ears to hear. She opens her eyes sees Him everywhere, in all He created. The air wraps her up, blankets her in His shelter, fills her lungs with Him. She knows she is His. She sees and hears and feels Him. She knows what she knows. © Marie Elena Good, 2022
July 31, 2022
High School Years, Snippets with Mom and Dad (Naples Beach, 1970s)
I pick up sea glass, rub it between my fingers, this heart-shaped God gift. My dad finds twin shells, quietly pockets them, then makes earrings for me. Sunset walk with Mom. She tells me, “You’ll soon prefer a romantic walk.” Walking home from Pier, something stings me on my foot. Dad carries me home. The sun dips itself into the Gulf. We give a standing ovation. An early-sunrise- beach-all-to-myself morning. A short bike ride home. Just curious how many dads would carry their teenage daughter home. Turned out Mom was right. And part of me holds regret for lost walks with her. Wonder if the next to find the heart-shaped sea glass saw it as God’s gift. © Marie Elena Good, 2022
July 3, 2022
TOO LATE (a waltmarie)
I ignored your advances. I made you beg my pardon, while you strained to gain my affection … but I couldn’t encourage candor. No, not when you meant to lead me to altars and vows, and expected to hear me say I do, while my panic clearly cried I don’t love you. © Marie Elena Good, 2022 Inner poem reads: pardon, but I meant to say I love you (Disclaimer: While most of my poems are based on my life and thoughts, this one is completely fabricated.)
May 29, 2022
REDUCED
She drips eloquence,
but her needs, desires, and core
are not free to speak.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
#seventeenintwentytwo
pictured words 