pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Memories

Sentimental Longing

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nos·tal·gia  /näˈstaljə,nəˈstaljə/   – noun.
A
sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations.

I’d say that everyone looks back on their childhood fondly.
But the unfortunate truth is that is unfortunately untrue,
and that unfortunate truth means I was truly fortunate.
In spite of that wording being almost comically convoluted,
it is written through tears of genuine gratitude.

My parents were simple and loving.
They infused me with a love for simple things. 
Perhaps it was the times.  Just the way life was.

But I don’t think so.
I think if they were to start over,

this time would be no different. 
Family would still be priority.
There would still be no such thing as coming home
to an empty house.

Music would still fill the soul.
All my love, and love me always would still grace every note
in every house we call home.
I love you.  You know that.
Yes Mom.  I do know that.  You lived it every day,
even when Alzheimer’s threatened to erase us
like chalk on a board,
leaving only ghostly swipes.

Longing to return to childhood
for one more day. One more hug.
One more chance to watch Mighty Mouse
T-boned on the floor with Dad,
my head using his tummy as a pillow.
One more turn to curl up in Mom’s lap,
rocked in the very chair that now sits across from me
as I write this poem, longing to hear her voice.
“I love you.  You know that.” 

© Marie Elena, 2019

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Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.  I miss your beautiful face and gentle love.

SAVING SOUNDS

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They’ve not been gone long.
Just a few month’s time.
Sometimes I hear her laugh.
His voice, singing,
“I don’t buy sugar  —
Just touch my cup.”
Her coffeemaker’s sizzle.
His, “Go Bucks.”
Her, “I love you.  —
You know that.”
His drums.
Her sigh.

I clutch these sounds —
Secure them to my heart,
And listen to its beat.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

TREEHOUSE

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We could build a treehouse there
Where quiet breeze flows through the wood
And echoes of our childhood
Still faintly hover in the air.

I ponder it with broadening smile!
So, could we build a treehouse there?
I know we could, but do we dare?
I think it just might be worthwhile.

I hope that you can be convinced
For once my heart became aware
That we could build a treehouse there,
I’ve been obsessing ever since.

It wouldn’t be the same elsewhere
For that is where we laughed and played
And where our hearts took root and stayed.
I’m glad we built a treehouse there.

 

© Marie Elena Good

My Favorite Christmas Things (to the tune of My Favorite Things)

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Banister greenery, tied with red ribbon.
Moonlit iced tree branches sparkle and glisten.
Carolers harmonize laughter with song.
Uplifting lyrics ring all season long.

Silver-belled streetlamps are charmingly pretty,
Casting their glow on the streets of the city.
Life-sized nativity graces a lawn.
Warmth from a hay bale entices a fawn.

Crystal-like snowflakes that shimmer and twinkle.
Enchanted children, with noses that crinkle.
Scents of warm sugar that waft through the air.
Sense of the kindness of folks everywhere.

Children’s wonder
Peaceful slumber
‘neath a silent snow

The best of the season
all point to the reason –
the birth of a Babe I know.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

OPEN AIR PICTURE SHOW

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Photo credit: dreamstime.com 

We as children
Face-up in soft grass
Hands clasped behind our heads
Watching floating scenes above,
Seeing things differently –
Each through our own lens,
Mimicking real life.

 

© Marie Elena Good

HAIKU (UNTITLED)

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Image credit:  Reusable Art Dot Com

bikes with beaded spokes
ribboned trikes, wagons, drums, tears
rain on our parade

DIAL BACK TIME (a triolet)

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Photo credit:  123RF

Back then, our clocks had hands and feet
No wings, yet time still seemed to fly
As singing trucks brought ice cream treats.

Back then, our clocks had hands and feet,
And we played kickball in the street
While friends and neighbors happened by.

Back then, our clocks had hands and feet
No wings, yet time still seemed to fly.

© Marie Elena Good

LOOKING BACK / FORWARD MARCH

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We line the street
Despite the heat;
Await the beat
Of drums.

The cadence stirs
My heart, and spurs
Excitement! Here
It comes!

The Stars and Stripes
And countless types
Of instruments
Pass by.

The pride I feel
Is deep and real
Beneath mid-
Summer’s sky.

My father’s band,
Baton in hand
Directing more
Than tunes.

His students find
He’s guided minds
And morals
Many moons.

Time marched along
So fast. So long,
Oh fleeting song
Of summer.

Now winter’s come
And slowed the drum –
But oh, I love
The drummer.

(With love and great respect for Dad … drummer, conductor, teacher, mentor,  father)

© Marie Elena Good, 2016

NIGHT SMILES, NILES OHIO

Sunny day of summer play with friends
Ends.

Night falls.
Streetlights call me home.
Bathed and pj’d,
Porch swing lulls, but cannot dull
The day’s fun,
Spun of love.

Mom smiles;
Files away another day.
We pray and say goodnight.
Sleep tight.
Sweet dreams.

Even the moon beams.

 

© Marie Elena Good 2016

 

 

SUMMER NIGHTS ON BELMONT

Sounds of fun
Blow in through my window.

Mistaking laughter for music,
My curtains dance on the breeze,
While my head has trouble staying on the pillow.

© Marie Elena Good 2016