pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Poetic Bloomings

MY INTERVIEW WITH DARLENE FRANKLIN

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COME MEET WELL-PUBLISHED AUTHOR OF CHRISTIAN LITERATURE, DARLENE FRANKLIN!

Interview may be found HERE.

TRI-ANGLES

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Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

I.

They say we shouldn’t talk politics or religion
so, religiously,
we blind our eyes,
plug our ears,
close our minds,
and open our mouths.

II.

They say we shouldn’t talk politics or religion
so, religiously,
we shun politics
while we de-bate what hooked us
and dragged us to our knees.

III.

They say we shouldn’t talk politics or religion
so, religiously,
we set our jaws, and type
with furious fingers –
too often the same fingers that have
never cast a ballot,
raised themselves to seek answers to questions,
nor folded themselves to silently seek the
One
we religiously shun.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

THEN AND NOW

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“So you write your novels, if that’s what you do,
Or scholarly texts, or cerebral world view,
While I write my lighthearted, fun-to-write rhyme,
Then do it again for the ten millionth time.”  ~ Marie Elena Good, 2009

Now sometimes I write some political stuff –
Some downers and bummers, and, oddly enough,
It isn’t dependent on what’s in the news,
Nor spotting and schmoozing with some obscure muse.

What moved me back then and still moves me today
Is the awe of my God – and to this end I pray:
That whatever I write, be it witty or grim,
It will honor my God, and point others to Him.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

Written in response to the Motivation prompt at Poetic Bloomings:  Write a poem about what moves you to write. 

CONFESSION STAND

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Photo credit: The Webstaurant  Store

“Buttered hot popcorn!”
Announced through a bullhorn,
“With ice-cold Coke, cocoa, or beer!”

Fritos and Cheetos, and
Nacho Doritos, and
Truly no will power, here.

Corn dog with mustard,
A large frozen custard,
Some M&M s, and Lotsa Fizz.

Smells like concession stand.
Sounds like confession, and
I don’t know — maybe it is.  😉

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

 

FOR POETIC BLOOMINGS AUTUMNAL POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE, 2018, DAY 2:  AROMA

PENCHANTS

Day 1 photo

Photo credit: Keith R. Good

  PENCHANTS

my air,
chilled

my coffee,
hot

my words,
spilled

my muse,
caught.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

FOR POETIC BLOOMINGS AUTUMNAL POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE, 2018 DAY 1 PROMPT:     COLD

FALL OF MY HEART (sonnet for autumn)

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Photo credit:  Keith R. Good

Way back, when I was just a little girl
My heart fell hard and fast for autumn’s charms.
As summer ends, the joys of fall unfurl,
With football, marching bands, and pumpkin farms.

Drum cadence seems to beat within my chest
As scarlet, gold, and ginger grace our trees.
The scents of burning leaves, and apples pressed,
Or baked ‘tween flaky crusts, give me weak knees.

When sun shines full in autumn’s deep blue sky,
Or harvest moon looms larger than my home,
It simply leaves me breathless. My-oh-my,
I cannot paint my fondness in a poem.

I have this wish –  believe me, it’s sincere –
I wish fall lingered ten more months per year.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

TIME IS OF THE ES-SCENTS

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Too much time to toil
smells like coffee break.
Too much time to broil
stinks of ruined steak.

Too much time spent mowing
smells of outside, in.
Too much time spent crowing
reeks of haughty din.

Time spent giving speeches
hints of stage-fright sweat.
Time spent strolling beaches?
Stale outlook reset.

Wasted time on druthers
leaves stench day-to-day.
Time spent loving others
breathes in sweet bouquet.

© Marie Elena Good

No Place Like Home

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Photo credit:  Pixabay

The garden gate parts,
releasing sweet aroma
of former florae.

She softly steps in,
breathing the beauty that binds
virtuous voices.

The presence of peace
silences the restlessness
grinding at the gate.

Now bejeweled with joy,
renewing friends and florae,
she picks up her pen.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

Response to Poetic Bloomings Prompt #209

TIME TO TEND (ANNOUNCEMENT of REOPENING OF POETIC BLOOMINGS!)

Spring Sunset At Lake Garda Desktop Background

Image credit:  Pixabay

She and a friend she’d never seen
used to tend a garden – serene
and seemingly ceaseless.
Meandering beauty gleaned
from home, and continents afar –
grand cognizance of sand to star,

and all that lay between.

There came a time, what needed tending
sadly meant the swift suspending
of this space the tenders prized –
teemed with blooms that mesmerized.
Sorrow burrowed ‘neath the furrowed fields.
Gone, fresh blossoms.  No new yields.

Seasons rose, and seasons fell.
A new day dawned and she, compelled
by want and bond, returned to see
once-planted seeds still bloom, carefree.

Her heart looked east, and there he was,
with tools and seeds and garden gloves.
He glanced, and flashed that knowing grin,
tendered a spade, and said, “Let’s dig in!”
And they both saw that it was fate,

as they unlatched the garden gate.

© Marie Elena Good

ANNOUNCEMENT: 

Walter J. Wojtanik and I are teaming back up to reopen our Poetic Bloomings site.  We’d love to have you join us there!

More details:  https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/2018/07/31/the-return-of-bloomings/