pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Poetry

A (P)LANNET WITH NO END RHYME :(

planet-earth-1401465698wt7

Does Lannet rhyme with planet, or away?
Okay, please chime in any time now … hear?
‘Cause dear, my word buffet is spilling crud,
And bloody well could ruin my Lan-NEIGH.

(See, LAN-net would not work as well up there,
For its wrong stress would smirk at me for life,
And I’d be rife with strife forevermore!)
Oh LAN-net, don’t you see what you have done?

You’ve ruined all my Sonnet end-rhyme f … joy!
(Hooboy, I almost blew it on that line,
benign though that faux pas would surely be.)
A Sonnet-wannabe, is this Lan-NEIGH!

Its WAY confusing diction drives me nuts.
To write with these restrictions took some g … nerve!

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

Dream the Love, and Love the Dream (A Wrapped Refrain)

12043177_984170598271006_2994613648432430760_n

Photo by Keith R. Good

When poets sigh, they sigh for love –
In awe of fragrant fruit thereof.
To spill the heart from breast to page
Release it from its living cage –
Free fragrant ache to fill the soul, and reach the sky,
And my-oh-my, breathe in love’s scent, when poets sigh.

And how I dream our words would fill
Our world with peace.  With love.  Goodwill.
And I believe that words can heal
And so I’ll write, and speak. Appeal
To peacemakers whose soothing words are as a stream
In moonlit gleam.  It’s how I pray, and how I dream.

When poets write, they seek within
To find the space where dreams begin
Where love writes sighs, and peace prevails
Where words can heal, and goodwill sails
To span the breadth of all that’s true, and there alight.
We’ll dream the love, and love the dream, when poets write.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

Rise up, my soul!

20181025_132951.jpg

Photo by Marie Elena Good

Spirit bestows it –
Worship swells from the Wellspring.
Oh my soul, take part!

Would that this poet
rise up and sing like the king
after God’s own heart!

© Marie Elena Good

PICTURED WORDS

sky-2235735_1280

They say a picture paints a thousand words.
The pairing of the two gives me delight.
And if a picture paints a thousand words,
Then picture this:  a picture painted write.

The pairing of the two gives me delight –
A complement of image with my words –
Appealing to my mind, and to my sight.
Perhaps a picture paints a thousand words

But here is what I try hard to pursue:
I strive to bat a thousand, with a few.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

This morning at Poetic Bloomings, Walt Wojtanick prompted us to write about our own blog. 

No Place Like Home

garden-gate-3505533_1280

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/ 

RECEIVING SONNET

22688512_1563967743624619_3617508707648414036_n

Photo by Keith R. Good

The very word is musical, to me.
Her soft iambic pentameter, calm.
Her rise and fall, a wave of soothing sea.
A therapy. A troubled spirit’s balm.

The sonnet seems to whisper, not to shriek.
No heart has she for bias or outrage.
Her soul is surely humble, yielding, meek.
A lady, moving gracefully through age.

When strolling wood, I hear her hollowed call.
While contemplating God, she sometimes sighs.
Perceptible in mid-west farmland’s sprawl.
She’s many means to draw and mesmerize.

Each time she calls, I gladly sit with her.
I stroke each word, and listen for her purr.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

words crack open

11222290_984170634937669_128032116415427820_n

Photo by Keith R. Good

words crack open

some willingly
spilling

some win-
some
some wince-
some

some pester
and fester

some swoon
in moonlit sky

and wonder
why
she’s deaf

to their cry

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

PRETEND I PENNED THIS

very_cute_hearts_shapes

PHOTO COURTESY OF LOVABLE IMAGES (lovableimages.blogspot.com)

My lover asks me:
“What is the difference between me and the sky?”
The difference, my love,
is that when you laugh,
I forget about the sky
.”*

I sigh.
Forever I’ll yearn to compose,
In verse or prose, for you  my love, and affirmation thereof.
‘til then, let’s kiss
And pretend I penned this.

© Marie Elena Good

* “My Lover Asks Me”  By Nizar Qabbani

INVENTION’S FOE (a Sonnetina Tre)

3

Photo credit: shutterstock.com

 

What right have I to claim a poet’s heart?
What write have I inside this heart I feign?
What depth of wisdom have I to impart,
Or story that’s not dreary, nor inane?

Perfectionism is invention’s foe:
Methodically it stalls, then stops me cold.
I want to breathe and let the words just flow –
Exhale a poem exquisite to behold.

My only hope to fight perfection’s sway?
Curl up in something soft at end of day.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2016