Song (Senryu)

Photo by Paul Bates (Pixabay)
You sang creation
into being. You “sang” me.
Lord, teach me my song.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Photo by Paul Bates (Pixabay)
You sang creation
into being. You “sang” me.
Lord, teach me my song.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
His Navy Dress Blues
displayed on the bed, look like
he was ten years old.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Image courtesy of Prawny at Pixabay
At the top of the slide, she screams.
(As in chillingly nightmarish dreams.)
And it’s all justified:
There’s an ant on the slide,
So she’s coming apart at the seams.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Photo by Daniel Reche, courtesy of Pixabay
Oh, stillness deep within me, never wane
when chaos saturates the world without.
I know the very God who sees and reigns –
whose still, small voice speaks peace, and quiets doubt.
He gave mankind a gnawing in our soul
that won’t be satisfied without His will.
And only He can quench that thirsty hole;
and only through His food, we get our fill.
At times, my praise rings sonorous and strong,
and springs from nourished soul that feeds on Him.
At times my praise, just weak and weary song,
seeps sluggishly from apathy within.
Oh, Father, fill me up when I am drained,
and may my praise be endless; unrestrained.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Photo by Daniel Nebreda, at Pixabay
Call faith what you will –
a crutch, if it helps me stand
on my principles.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2020
I bring to the garden my birth-month flower,
And admit to being drawn to her modest, unassuming style.
She seems unconcerned that she is common.
She simply embraces her meaning:
Winning grace.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
By no means do I like to travel
On water, air, pavement, or gravel.
So by all means, go.
I’ll stay put. (You know,
Ain’t pretty to see me unravel).
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
Her toes, tanned,
saunter in sand
as sun wanes.
She remains,
steeped in still
-nes’tled blush of dusk.
Settled. Hushed.
Moon taunts her,
fetching her heart –
sketching shore shadows –
stretching fern and frond
beyond her vision.
And far beyond
her once-upon-a-sand
box.
© Marie Elena Good, 2018
A book of books; a letter to mankind
God-breathed to men of many walks of life –
And yet this faultless work is undermined.
Some say its very Author causes strife.
Translated into fourteen hundred tongues,
No other book approaches such renown
As this, which is as breath to failing lungs.
Throughout, God’s living hallowed voice resounds.
Amazing in enduring relevance
Astonishing consistency of thought
Unparalleled in unbound eminence –
Deny its holiness? No, I cannot.
Though there are those who disregard His word,
My God will not be silenced, nor unheard.
© 2013, Marie Elena Good