REDUCED
She drips eloquence,
but her needs, desires, and core
are not free to speak.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
#seventeenintwentytwo
pictured words
a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
Tag: Love
May 29, 2022
February 20, 2022
LIFE, COMPOSED IN THREE PARTS
Part 1. LEGATO Since love and laughter sang the notes to her childhood, she tuned in to life. She felt melodic, harmonious, and ready to embrace her song. Part 2. ARPEGGIO A child bride’s ballad, meant to mirror her childhood, ends in broken chords. A sharp turn taken, her imposed solo becomes a balanced duet as her new partner discards the shards, and the two play in consonance. Her children (her heart), born improvisers, still long to dance their own dance. Part 3. CODA Moons rose and set. Her parents grew sickly; her song became elegy. Still, her partner hums his strength, and her Composer breathes psalms in her lungs. © Marie Elena Good, 2022
January 30, 2022
My Years of Teaching
There are the teachers
equipped with knowledge, and the
skills to impart it
There are the teachers
with a passion for learning
that is contagious.
There are the teachers
who delight in (and well-wield)
books, maps, and whiteboards.
I am gifted with
none of that. But I love, and
love assists learning.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
August 29, 2021
NONNA REE’S PRIORITIES
The older I get, the older I feel
It’s hard to run. It’s hard to kneel.
Can’t cartwheel as in childhood.
(But, truth-be-told, I never could. 😉 )
Consistently can’t find my words –
Can access just perhaps two thirds.
Can’t run too fast. Can’t hear when asked.
My skates and skis were long-since trashed.
But I’ll still race you on my bike,
and take a walk or even hike
and talk and laugh and draw (kind of 😉 )
and listen well
and deeply love.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
July 4, 2021
The Heart of It All (fibonacci)
Home
Is
The state
Of my heart:
Heart-shaped Ohio.
“Ohio, The Heart of It All,”
Is more than its slogan, to me. It’s a certainty
Born of dappled sunlight, porch swing swishes, marching bands, sure love, and lingering laughter.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
(Bummer. My final line, written in 21 syllables, breaks up on site.)
May 16, 2021
JUST YESTERDAY
I loved gardening
beneath sun and deep blue sky
in sensible shoes.
I loved Keith as he
painted old cheap plastic pots
‘seventies Corvettes.
I loved filling them
with flamboyant petunias,
modest marigolds.
I loved settling in,
sipping black coffee, watching
red robins rummage.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
April 20, 2021
THIS IS MY KEITH
I love, “I love you,”
daily coming from your voice –
confirmed in your eyes.
I love, “I love you,”
emitting from hand-drawn hearts
on scraps of paper.
I love, “I love you,”
proved in daily selfless acts,
both little and vast.
I love, “I love you.”
But I treasure the daily
non-verbal “I do.”
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
Happy Anniversary, Keith. 30 years of daily thankfulness for the gift of you.
In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April PAD Challenge: Day 20 – Writer’s Digest (Day 20: Write a love and/or anti-love poem.)
April 14, 2021
A Walk in Mid-April
We walk around the park’s pond,
eyeing mallards and geese,
clear blue skies.
Tree blossoms of white, pink, and purple
dapple sunlight on the greening grass
and manmade path at our feet.
Lilacs scent the breeze,
as does the pleasing sound of
improving English
from my brave and delightful friend.
She speaks of her sweet/smart girls,
(the youngest of which, with her large dark eyes and
dark golden curls, holds tight her momma’s hand,
and her little bag of chips),
Syrian war,
and lost and scattered family.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April PAD Challenge: Day 14 – Writer’s Digest (Day 14: Write a “from where you’re sitting” poem.)
February 28, 2021
MY WRITING SPACE, IN THIS MOMENT
scattered furniture
what used to be here, now there
drop cloths and paint fumes
jazz notes billowing
rollers, brushes, straight edges –
that man God gave me
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
February 14, 2021
NO WORDS FOR MY LOVE
My love for you is deep,
yet my words steep in
tepid water.
No flavor; nothing to savor.
They begin, but fade,
delayed by … what?
A depth I can’t reach,
though I beseech them.
A well with no bucket.
A spell I can’t cast.
My tone, a droning bore.
I wish my words would
soar
surprise
rise
revel
to the level of love.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
pictured words 