Trump | pictured words

If not for nations
coming to my own doorstep,
I’d never know them.

I’d never have seen
they’re here to feed me the food
that comforts their souls.

I’d never have seen
they’re here to make my home both
strong and welcoming.

They’re here to make us
kinder. Gentler. Here to make
their own lives better,

but also the lives
of all those who welcomed them,
and those who didn’t.

I want to save them
from the strangling hands of this
administration.

If not for Donald,
would Vance, Rubio, Musk, Noem,
and all the others

be so emboldened
to heartless vindictiveness
and mercilessness?

If not for clear signs
from history (you know which),
one might never know.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

April 6, 2025

Untitled haibun-like firehose

this not a trickle but a wide-open firehose that is not meant to douse flames but to disorient the American people leaving us reeling feeling discounted disregarded overlooked overwhelmed overpowered and overthrown (overthrown?) unquestionably and categorically overthrown and now so unrecognizable my country looks far more distorted than even what I see through my wrinkled retina and make no mistake this firehose is intentional gish gallop in its inundation and devastation and

How can one stall a
strategic tsunami with
a spoon and a sponge?

2 Comments

April 3, 2025

Term Two

Albatross

Photo by Johann Van der Linde on Pexels.com

Term Two (a Tricube)

It feels like
quicksand, but
it isn’t.

We may be
in too deep
to get out,

but we can
still stand up
for what’s right.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

Robert Lee Brewer’s April 2025 PAD

This form is a Tricube: 3 stanzas of 3 lines of 3 syllables

1 Comment

April 2, 2025

In these times (no poem, and no picture)

Dear all:

The first time I was eligible to vote, I registered as a democrat. I proudly/excitedly/confidently voted for Jimmy Carter. In the very next election, I registered republican to vote (shaking in my shoes) for Ronald Reagan. For much of my life, I’ve considered myself a conservative republican. After my party went too far right for me, and the democrats too far left, I haven’t known how to politically label myself. I have always voted my conscious – I have never been a party-line voter. I am, and always will be, a follower of Jesus Christ.

But in this time we are in, I am democrat. Not because I agree with everything they think and do. Not because I have seen them accomplish all they say they are about (because I haven’t, because they haven’t). But because I see them as the only path to restoring our checks and balances in this America I already no longer recognize.

In this time we are in, I am American. I am Ukrainian, Syrian, Lebanese, Haitian, Afghani, Iranian, Iraqi, Sudanese, Somalian, Canadian, Burundian, Mexican, Peruvian, Cuban, Brazilian, Nicaraguan, Venezuelan … you get the picture.

In this time we are in, I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I am Muslim, Hindu, Jewish, Buddhist, Shinto …

In this time we are in, I am female. I am male. I am straight. I am lesbian, gay, bi, trans, queer, she, he, they …

In this time we are in, I am a citizen of the United States of America. I am a refugee, a parolee, an asylee. I am legal, illegal, undocumented …

In this time we are in, I am innocent. I am guilty, convicted, chained, and imprisoned.

Why do I say I am all these, when clearly I am not?

When Jesus’s feet were on this earth, He showed love and compassion for all. Yes, He stood for righteousness. He didn’t waiver from purity and holiness, and He encourages us to do the same (though it is impossible for us). He was sinless in His thought life. He was sinless in His behavior. He was all-loving, all-just, wholly compassionate, wholly empathetic, and (please hear this), He was sinless in His compassion and empathy. It is in large part why He came.

As a follower of Jesus, it is my duty and my privilege to honor with dignity and compassion every person ever created. We are all created in the image of God. It is His way. It is what He flawlessly demonstrated, and will do so eternally.

May He help me … help my country … be more like Him.

With all sincerity,
Marie Elena

4 Comments

March 9, 2025

Maternal Strength (Mother of Exiles)

Maternal Strength (Mother of Exiles)

Her light, once shining full and bright,
now dim from weeks-long dark of night.
Her eyes glimpse loss of prized allies.
Tear-flooded eyes say their goodbyes
to those once-welcomed, now in throes
of deportation, unopposed.

“Rise up!” She pleads, “to stop this man
who’s changed our core in six-weeks’ span.”
Maternal strength with nurturing spirit,
sing your welcome! Let us hear it!
Shine bright your lamp and wail your plea,
“Send poor and tempest-tossed to me!”

Title and final line of course inspired by The New Colossus, by American poet Emma Lazarus

2 Comments

March 2, 2025

In Like a Lion. Out Like a Lamb. (2 poems)

AI generated image

In Like a Lion

An apex predator vying for position,
he dons an illegitimate crown
and struts it
around the world stage.

He marks his territory
leaving a stench —
his pride
sniffing rank.

He joins forces with males
who also relish the roar —
none of whom have reached
maturity.

Out Like a Lamb (Found in God’s word)

And he said, “Behold
the Lamb of God – He who takes
away the world’s sins.” ~ John, the baptist

“… for I am gentle
and lowly in heart, and you’ll
find rest for your souls.” ~ Jesus, the Christ

“Like a lamb that is
led to the slaughter – so He
opened not His mouth —

Though He had done no
violence, and there was no
deceit in His mouth.” ~ Isaiah, the prophet

2 Comments

February 9, 2025

TWENTY TWENTY FIVE

Twenty Twenty Five

My year’s focus word
is listen. I chose it, not
knowing what’s to come.

The last twenty days,
I see myself shouting on
social media.

The need to be heard
in daunting times is real, but
shouting gets tuned out,

so is left unheard.
And yet, the need is still there.
I can’t help but shout.

The last twenty days,
my listening turned to an
Intense need to scream.

I don’t scream outdoors
out of respect and care for
all of my neighbors.

I don’t scream indoors
for fear of terrifying
my loving husband.

I scream inside me,
silently, lest I drown out
my God’s still, small voice.

© Marie Elena Good, 2025