Sonnet | pictured words

November 9, 2025

Sonnet for Lord, Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace

“Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.

O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.” ~ Anonymous(attributed to St. Francis of Assisi)

Sonnet for Lord, Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace

Of many writings I wish were my own,
this certainly resides among the best.
And while this poet’s name remains unknown,
their heart’s benevolence is manifest.

And oh to be an instrument of peace
And oh to harmonize with God’s great grace
No dissonance released from my mouthpiece
No notes omitted, wrestled, or misplaced

God likens clanging cymbals and loud gongs
to those who harbor hate within their soul.
I want to spill His love where there are wrongs –
the love that brings us peace and makes us whole.

Don’t want to be a cymbal or a gong –
Just long to harmonize with Him in song.

Leave a comment

October 29, 2025

RED (sonnet for a cabin in the woods)

RED (sonnet for a cabin in the woods)

We’re back in Red, a cabin we once knew.
She was the first to which we came for rest.
But then we switched to one we know as Blue.
Both feel like home, and neither one is “best.”

Nostalgia here in Red, intense and deep,
returns us to our long-forgotten years
of risky hikes (both treacherous and steep).
Our younger selves don’t hear our future fears.

Inherent wisdom fills her ancient beams.
They’ve centuries of stories, as has she.
Her cozy manner begs us (so it seems):
Speak quiet love, relax, and be carefree.

Surrounded by strong hardwood and soft fir,
Red’s presence stirs up thoughts of who we were.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

1 Comment

December 20, 2024

Of Humble Means (Sonnet to the Newborn King)

Of Humble Means (Sonnet to The Newborn King)

Expectant couple travels far and fierce.
She, full with child, atop a gentle ass.
He, worried as her sighs begin to pierce,
And finding there’s no room in inns they pass.

He, with no proper room to birth her child,
Secures a proffered stable to take rest.
The Babe comes quickly, there amidst the wild.
He frees her Son, and lays Him at her breast.

The Newborn listens to the bleating sheep.
The feeding trough He lies in smells of hay.
His weary mother tries to get some sleep,
Through rolling sounds of cry and bleat and bray.

Great throngs of angels revel in this day –
In lowly trough, there lies The Truth. The Way.

Leave a comment

March 25, 2024

A Man Like None She’d Known (sonnet for a prostitute)

Photo by Juan Pablo Serrano Arenas on Pexels.com

This Man had moved her heart in such a way
she spent the tears she shed to wash His feet.
I haven’t known a more sincere display
of love before or since, nor more replete.

An alabaster jar filled with pure nard,
its price, perhaps in wages numbered years.
This girl whose reputation had been marred
anointed Jesus’ feet, ignoring sneers.

This typically was used for entombment.
In just six days, she witnessed Jesus’ death.
Now, we can’t know if that was her intent,
but know God preordained His final breath.

Her tender, humble love for Him moves me.
And what a brave and brimming heart had she.

© Marie Elena Good, 2024

2 Comments

February 24, 2024

THIRTEEN (a sonnet for Sophia Rose)

Our hearts were lit the moment you were born.
This blue-eyed chubby cherub, ours to hold.
It seemed you brought with you a love well worn;
If you could speak, the stories you’d have told.

Your toddler legs gave movement toward your dreams.
But no, not near enough for your designs.
You needed flight to capture those moonbeams,
And wishes aren’t contained by boundary lines!

In thirteen years, you’ve hardly changed a bit:
You’re soft of heart, while strong of mind and drive.
You’re beautiful. You can’t contain your wit.
It’s our delight to watch you grow and thrive.

We see inside those laughing eyes of blue,
Intelligence and warmth reside in you.

© Marie Elena Good, 2024

Happy Birthday, Soph! We love you!
Nonna and Poppa

Leave a comment

September 4, 2022

WHAT THE JAMES WEBB TELESCOPE CAN’T SEE

Exposure to the vastness of our world
reveals the limitations of my brain.
As gleaming glows of galaxies unfurled
have come to light, I cannot even feign

to grasp a tiny bit of what exists,
or visualize what else may be out there.
For as the search continues to persist,
we’ll surely find more great unknowns elsewhere.

Here’s me, my feet fixed firmly to the ground;
my tiny world spills full with those I love.
My eyes and heart lift up to God, spellbound
at what He made that I can scarce dream of.

This God who spoke unending realms to be,
sees fit to whisper words of love to me.

“When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which you have set in place: What is mankind that you are mindful of them? Human beings that you care for them?”
~ Psalm 8:3-4

2 Comments

July 17, 2022

COME HOME (Sonnet to Immigrants and Refugees)

Photo by Elu012bna Aru0101ja on Pexels.com

So, at what point does one decide to flee
the land where fruit and spice speak Grandma’s tongue?
Where generations of their family 
breathe music, art, and song as through shared lung?

This land (their land) where memories are made:
The land that births their children’s love of life,
where laughter laughs, and prayers-in-sync are prayed,
with rooted norms for husband and for wife.

At what point does their home feel foreign-born,
so much so that they have no choice but leave?
How long ‘til all their colors wilt war-torn?
How long until their soul does naught but grieve?

At what point can one let go of what was,
to feel at home in land of unlike flaws?

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

2 Comments

September 5, 2021

Still (sonnet)

If time stood still, would I continue on?
Would forward movement cease then to exist?
Could sun and moon be viewed from dusk to dawn,
And deadlines not be met, yet not be missed?

Would falling stars suspend themselves in space,
Like frozen fireworks across night’s sky,
As lovers fused beneath in warm embrace
Would never need to say the word goodbye?

Would guarantees be suddenly fulfilled, 
Or would our contracts be for naught, and nixed?
Would all that’s overflowing go un-spilled?
Might what was once detaching be affixed?

If all that was foreshadowed was foregone
As time stood still, would we continue on?

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

1 Comment

August 1, 2021

THE HEART OF AN OLYMPIAN

Dreams held within resist all hindrances,
As though an iron breastplate shelters it.
Equating fear and doubt as hidden sins,
It will not recognize them, nor admit

Susceptibility may lie inside.
It soundly strikes a metronome-like beat
That pulses toward the goal that it has eyed,
Where grueling pain and utter joy may meet.

But when a running water hose crimps tight,
The urgent fix outweighs the aim at hand.
The crimp must be relaxed … And this despite
Whatever lofty plan was in demand.

Olympic hearts are human, in the end.
They’ve earned soft hands to hold them as they mend.

Leave a comment

June 21, 2020

YESTERDAYS (Father’s Day 2020 Sonnet for my Dad)

84066191_10157322938913600_1641668025314705408_n

Just one more chance to hear your drum set swing,
And feel the pride well up inside my core.
And I believe I’d give most anything
To watch as you conduct a band once more.

To hear you call Mom Sweet Pea one more time,
And see the love for her in aging eyes
That cleaved to days of youth, well past their prime,
Embracing the enchantment love implies.

From time to time, I feel as though you’re near.
I sometimes hear your words play through my mind.
Oh how I’d love to linger for a year
While you are here, and death is left behind.

Though we may try to hold what fades away,
Our yesterdays were never meant to stay.

Leave a comment

Tag: Sonnet