“MARIE”
- an acrostic profile poem
MERCIFUL.
She finds it easy to be merciful, as she experiences daily the mercy of her God.
APPROACHABLE
.
Welcoming eyes and ready smile … not peculiar enough to frighten, nor so lovely as to intimidate.
REDEEMED
.
Sinner-deemed-sinless, a debt she can’t pay.
INDEBTED
.
Humbly and deeply thankful for parents who taught much, and loved regardless; an abundance of encouraging, uplifting, loyal friends and extended family; and mostly her Creator, whose unyielding love, grace, and mercy breathe her very existence.
ENTHUSIASTIC
.
Taught by her father that “Nothing great was ever accomplished without enthusiasm.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ I bring to the garden my birth-month flower: the Marigold. This simple, understated flower means “winning grace.”
Walt Wojtanik and I also shared a once-upon-a-blog: Across the Lake, Eerily .
One of my favorite “duties” (a great privilege) for our site is interviewing other poets and special guests. Links to each interview may be found in the upper menu, or at this link: http://poeticbloomings.com/web-wednesday-interviews/ .
Walt made me change chairs, and HE interviewed ME. Walt’s Interview with me 9/14/2011
© All postings and intellectual materials on this page are property of Marie Elena Good.
OF DANDELIONS AND MANICURES
One edges, tidies, snips, and trims,
Who knows nothing of dreams and whims.
One scatters dandelion seeds,
Who understands a daydream’s needs.
~~~
Dedicated to our mutual friend, Jerry Walraven [“Chev”], who knows of dandelion fluff and other whimsical wonders.
*Prompt #1. Write a “seed” poem.
POPPA
(For my husband: living proof that a “step” grandfather loves no less)
At the sight of him,
The blue eyes of her 24-pound frame light up,
She flashes a two-toothed smile,
Lifts pudgy little hands toward the ceiling,
And clearly says, “Poppa.”
At the sight of her,
The blue eyes of his 220-pound frame soften,
He beams from tip to toe,
Extends muscular arms to scoop her up,
And tenderly says, “There’s my pumpkin.”
At the sight of these exchanges,
My own eyes regularly mist,
My already full heart floods
With more love than it can contain. Love
For her, for him, and for the God of second chances.
~~~
*Prompt #29. Write a love poem.
Happy Valentine’s Day to my Keith.
CRY ME A RIVER
(or, Graduate Student’s Lament)
Determination: diluted.
Social life: evaporated
Spirits: dampened.
Life is but a mist.
A mere drop in the bucket.
Then Graduate School
rained on his parade.
Pour soul.
I drought he knew
how swamped he would be,
nor how utterly drained
his pockets.
But,
that’s water under the bridge.
His assets, now liquid,
it’s full steam ahead.
*Prompt #2: Write a water poem
“Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Matthew 4:4.
Sustenance (A Kyrielle)
A seed lay wilting deep within;
Its shallow roots were frail and thin.
The Gardener spoke; its soul was stirred
To feast upon God’s sovereign Word.
Its thirsty roots took hold and fed,
Reached deeper down, increased, and spread.
A miracle of life was spurred
By feasting on God’s sovereign Word.
Exquisite blooms released sweet scent,
Dispersing precious seeds, once spent.
Please, tender sprouts, don’t be deterred
From feasting on God’s sovereign Word.
*Prompt #3: Out of something bad, something good.
Nurturing Sophie (A Kimo)
She looks into my eyes, her smile blossoms,
and it becomes crystal clear
she’s flourishing with love.
*Prompt #4: Fruits of our labors
Prompt #5 is a photo prompt. My daughter, Deanna Marie Metts, took this evocative shot: http://poeticbloomings.com/2011/05/29/eye-of-the-beholder-prompt-5/ .
Haiku
apprehensively
she walks the path assigned her
softly detaching
MY HEART TURNS TOWARD YOU
Perched above, on weathered stone,
I drink in the autumn colors
below and about.
My eyes see, but they cannot grasp
the full wonder.
And my heart turns toward You.
You paint the scene before me,
with a palette mixed by Your own Hand.
You fashion the vista,
continually blending color;
the scene ever changing at Your whim.
Your sun travels across the canvas,
altering hues as it gently falls
as a silk scarf in scarce breeze.
Gold catches my eye, where it was shadowed
only moments ago.
Leaves, as scarlet as turned rubies,
shimmer, then fade.
Clouds veil Your sun.
Emerald, pumpkin, alabaster, and onyx
gleam against a silver sky.
Crickets sing, while hawk calls.
Trickling water chuckles in the distance.
Limbs moan with the breeze.
Crisp leaves crunch beneath the weight
of Your forest creatures.
Nature’s song is broken by two who happen on this path.
They pause to survey the wonder below, and about.
Their chatter halts,
as they are overtaken in awe
of the magnificent display.
The moment of silence breaks, with a nearly whispered
“Oh my God – look at this.”
I smile.
Do they know they have just paid homage
to The Artist?
And my heart turns toward You.
*Prompt #6: Color my world
What sort of poet has a difficult time choosing between Shel Silverstein and Jack Prelutsky … and King David? I finally chose King David, who truly is the ultimate praise poet. I have so many favorite lines from his psalms, but must say that I am partial to De Jackson’s life-motto: From Psalm 61, a psalm of David: “And I’ll be the poet who sings your glory – and live what I sing every day.” This has become my own personal daily prayer as well. Several of the psalmist’s expressed feelings found their way into my sonnet, below.
AN IMPERFECT POET
My Lord is great, and greatly to be praised.
In Him, I live and breathe, and take delight.
Yet, even though I’m awed and stand amazed,
My hollow words do not reflect His might.
How regal is Your name in all the earth!
Lord, who am I, that You would care for me?
Creator of my heart before my birth,
I long for it to be a light for Thee.
Now, “may the meditation of my mind,
And words upon my lips,” as David urged,
“Be pleasing in Your sight,” and may You find
Offensive ways concealed in me, now purged.
Imperfect poet, bound in mercy’s frame,
I seek to daily lift Your sacred name.
Prompt #7: Take your favorite line, from your favorite poem, by your favorite poet. Make that line the inspiration and title of your poem. Shine a fresh new light and write.
Prompt #8: Use words from the crossword grid to write your poem: http://poeticbloomings.com/2011/06/19/never-a-cross-word-prompt-8/
ASSETS
Once upon a moment,
The moon’s aura rested
At my window,
Leaving silver-plated packages
Of windfall in my name.
I believed that door to be
Slammed.
Sealed at the whim of a heretic.
What then could I do,
But prepare to lay my head
On the pillow-less aluminum cot
Of an uneasy future
Of shopping center pleasantries
And pyramid schemes?
But I have a fairy in my pocket
And a penny rebel’s heart.
Morning broke.
I collected my being.
Concierge?
Haiku
Peering down on earth
From my perch upon the moon
I see no borders.
Prompt #9: Vantage Point … Deep Space Nine
Changed for Good
“We’re just friends,” you said.
“We’re just friends,” said I.
And I believed you,
And you believed me.
“We’re just friends,” you said.
“We’re just friends,” said I.
But you doubted you,
And I doubted me.
Came tickles and pokes,
And glances and notes;
Then gazes and hugs,
And lingering goodbyes.
“I love you,” you said.
“I love you,” said I.
And I believed you,
And you believed me.
“I love you,” you said.
“I love you,” said I.
No doubt on your part,
No doubt upon mine.
“For richer, for poorer,
In sickness and health”
Eternally altered,
Our lives intertwined.
*Prompt #10: A Friend, Indeed
REMAINS
All that remained was
a torn life and shattered dreams.
And then he entered.
And then he entered,
bonding fragments together,
stronger than before.
Stronger than before,
and ready to trust again,
confidence returned.
Confidence returned,
life was regained, and his love
was all that remained.
*Prompt #11: Phoenix Rising
NONNA’S CHERRY TREE (A poem for children)
A limb that’s low enough for me,
Lifts me up so I can see
Nonna, picking sugar peas,
Apron blowing in the breeze.
A comfy spot to read my book
Overlooks a lively brook,
Where the water froths and foams,
Tadpoles scurry to their homes.
In a hollowed knot, I spy
Rotting wood, and ants that fly.
Up above, I spot a nest.
Momma bird fights off a pest.
Cherries, juicy-ripe and sweet,
Some for baking; some to eat
Just-picked with my own two hands,
Dropping into metal pans.
Oops! I find a worm in one
That’s when I decide I’m done.
So, I climb down from my spot;
Dump my cache from pans to pot.
Nonna helps me carry them,
Then I help her pit and stem.
Next, I help my Nonna bake
Cherry pie; black forest cake.
Nonna lets me spend the night,
Tucks me in, and says, “Sleep tight!”
Then I dream I’m flying free,
Smiling down on Nonna’s tree.
(Note from Marie Elena: Though this poem is make-believe, it was inspired by my own Nonna’s cherry tree, which was quite special to all of us grandchildren.)
Prompt #12: Animal, Vegetable, or Mineral?
Introspective Perspective
Irrespective,
my prospective objective
and selective directive,
though defective, were effective.
*Prompt #13: Go for the Gold
Nothing Lost
As I embrace One who was slain,
and forfeit self, what will I gain?
Eternal life in Christ is mine
not of my self, but His design.
His agony, my boundless gain
corrupted self cannot attain.
In death to self I gain no loss,
my life secured on Calvary’s cross.
~~~
Inspired by Luke 9:24-25.“For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit their very self?”
*Prompt #14: Lost and Found
Prompt #15 is another photo prompt: http://poeticbloomings.com/2011/08/06/view-from-a-park-bench-prompt-15/ .
Park Bench
As I near my autumn days,
I think of all I have not experienced.
No trips abroad.
No vacation home.
No award-winning book.
No fame.
No second-glance beauty.
I think of all I have not experienced.
Yet, let the autumn leaves summon,
For I am content to sit side-by-side,
In dappled sunlight or soaking rain.
Over the rainbow,
We hold hands and click our heels.
There’s no place like home.
This, of course, inspired by “Over the Rainbow,” Judy Garland’s signature song, by Arlen and Harburg. Thankfully, my husband is every bit as much the homebody as I.
*Prompt #16: Playing Favorites
NOW WHAT?
Acclimatize, familiarize,
Revise, amend, and bend.
Rework, adjust
(you simply must),
Then modify and blend.
Find your footing,
(no off-putting)
Settle in, and then
Get a feel for this new deal, and
Learn from where you’ve been.
*Prompt #17: Ch-ch-ch-changes
Prompt #18 is a photo prompt (photo by Keith R. Good): http://poeticbloomings.com/2011/08/28/there%E2%80%99s-a-moon-out-tonight-prompt-18/
AFTERGLOW (A Nonet)
As the sun
slips beneath the water,
Her afterglow lingers above -
Much to wooing moon’s delight.
And they bask in the glow
Those fleeting moments
They call their own,
As their hearts
Become
One
Remember Me This Way
Raw emotion
Vague impression
Every notion
Begs expression
View and thought
Duly penned
Deftly wrought
Without end
** Reader’s Digest, April 2011, “Remember Me This Way” by Beth Dreher.
*Prompt #19: Title and Deed
Prompt #20, Wishful Young Lovers, is a photo prompt (photo by Walt Wojtanik, of his daughter): http://poeticbloomings.com/2011/09/11/wishful-young-dreamers/
Haiku
We watch the sun set
Our love stealing away time
We watch the sun rise
BUT, WEIGHT!
Salty chips
Onion dips
Fish, deep-fried
Open wide
Creamy shakes
Dreamy cakes
Cookie batch
Down the hatch
Chocolate cherries
Ben & Jerry’s
Strudels (oodles!)
Home-made noodles
Fried tomatoes
Mashed potatoes
Mindless snacking
Pounds are packing
Tater tots
Lattes (lots!)
Home-made stew
Swiss fondue
Mac-n-cheese
(Seconds, please)
Up a size
Big surprise
*Prompt #21: 1, 2, 3 — Surprise!
The photograph depicts a kindly gentleman. Though he is not smiling, his mischievous eyes are bordered by tell-tale smile lines. He is flanked by my grandmother and grandfather, and holds my then-infant father in his arms. I dig deeper into my great grandfather’s musty chest, discovering several more photos, each portraying the family man I never met.
A picture of Grandma Netta and Grandpa Al’s wedding day surfaces. And then another, and another. Great-grandpa is noticeably missing. Selflessly playing photographer? I smile, and keep searching.
I open what appears to be a photo album, yet it contains no photographs. Instead, the pages contain letters from Italy, written in Grandma Netta’s brother’s hand. There appears to be several month’s worth, at least. As I skim the pages, I see, “Netta and I were invited to perform at a private party last night. All eyes were on her. She looked great, Pop. Guys are flocking. Your plan might work. Give Ma hugs from both of us. We’re having the time of our lives, yet we can’t wait to get back home to the States. We miss you both.”
Confused, and intrigued, I read on. “Since last I wrote, Netta has received two proposals of marriage. She seems agitated. She wrote Al another letter today. She’s written him every day since we arrived. Pop, I think your plan may be backfiring on you. It seems absence is making the heart grow fonder.”
My pulse quickens. Further reading confirms my suspicion: Great-grandpa sent Grandma away to Italy for an extended time as a last-ditch effort to break up her pending marriage to Al. Her brother was sent as her escort, but also to spy and report.
Though I never learned his reasons for trying to block Netta and Al’s marriage, I saw with my own eyes that he did not hold a grudge forever, and neither did they. Perhaps photographs cannot always tell stories, but they are history-sated. I’m thankful for the outcome portrayed in the photos in Great-grandpa’s chest.
… and I’ve learned to be thankful for my very existence.
*Prompt #22, Photo prompt: http://poeticbloomings.com/2011/09/25/developing-story-%E2%80%93-prompt-22/ (Developing Story)
UNTITLED
For the first time in my life, I know
What loneliness feels like.
Sounds like.
Tastes like.
Nervous energy follows wanderlust.
Dismal music accompanies ominous headlines
That play as a round in my psyche,
And leave a peculiar tang on my lips.
I discharge a recurrent mechanical laugh…
Everything is a joke.
*Prompt #23: Wither Thou Goest, Kevin Bacon?
Prompt 1.
Haiku
My instructions were
idiot-proof. But they rose
to the occasion.
Prompt 2
“All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” ~ Romans 3:23
Some do not respect the bible, but most respect Jesus himself.
Our historical Jesus hated sin, but loved sinners.
ALL sinners.
Who are sinners?
All.
Even if I did not believe the bible is God’s word,
I could see the validity of that statement, for
Who has attained perfection?
Whose every thought is good, and clean, and holy?
Whose every move is guided by faith?
Whose every breath is exhaled in love?
In all, all I see is me.
*Prompt #24: Rise and Fall
Prompt #25 (Reaping a Harvest) is a photo prompt (photo by Keith R. Good). http://poeticbloomings.com/2011/10/16/reaping-a-harvest-prompt-25/
Haiku
Sow benevolence.
Weed petty self-interest.
Reap the benefits.
Life’s a little weird, in a wonderful sort of way.
When I was a child, my grandparents had one of the few color television sets in town, and the only one in our family. Signs in business windows proudly advertised, “air conditioned.” Mom’s remodeled kitchen included a handy-dandy new gadget to make dish washing a cinch – a sink sprayer. My time was spent with cousins, coloring books, and paper dolls.
My sophomore year of high school, we moved to Florida. For my Sweet 16th, I got an electric Smith Corona. State-of-the-art. Powder blue. Mom and Dad knew I would need it for secretarial courses. My time was spent with new friends, a new boyfriend, enjoying the beach, and missing home.
A mere year later, I was married. At 19, I became the mother of a beautiful baby girl, and went on to have two more children in the next five years. My time was spent with children, Care Bears, My Little Ponies, and He-Man action figures.
Eight years later, I was a single mom taking secretarial courses, where a 15-year-old Smith Corona was passé. Only months into classes, I met my second (and final) husband, and was offered a job at the then Medical College of Ohio (now University of Toledo). My time was spent with a loving husband, kids who were confused and challenging – but affectionate and respectful, scientists, computers, and government agencies.
Now-grown children have battled demons I could never have predicted, and would not have believed we could all make it through in one piece. And we would not have done so, but for the grace of the God with which I have been intimate since my early childhood. My time was spent with doctors, government agencies, at psych units, and before the throne of God.
At fifty-plus years of age, my life is full. My husband, who has supported my children and me through the toughest of times, remains the love of my life. My time is spent with aging parents, cousins, scientists, government agencies, online with poets and writers of children’s stories, writing my own poetry and children’s stories, blogging, communicating with writers from all over the world, Facebooking, caring for and thoroughly enjoying a new love (my granddaughter, Sophie), and before the throne of God.
Life’s a little wonderful, in a weird sort of way.
*Prompt #26: Life’s a Little Weird
My husband and I spent this last week in a log cabin in the woods of Ohio’s Hocking Hills. No landline. No cell phone reception. No internet. No television. We hiked, biked, hot-tubbed, talked, photographed the autumn beauty, and simply enjoyed being together. Oh, the bliss!
What did you do this week? Was it inspiring? Lackluster? Challenging? Think on it, and let’s hear about “The Week That Was.”
Marie Elena’s Week
Fall, In Love (A Nonet)
We shared our favorite time of year
Where each turn of the bend ignites
Flamboyant reds and yellows
A welcoming heart(h) glows
Silence is golden
Passion smolders
You and I
Kindle
Love.
(If you would like to see the photo I chose to accompany this poem, it is posted Across the Lake: http://aleerily.wordpress.com/2011/10/30/fall-in-love-a-nonet/ )
*Prompt #27: The Week that Was
Frazzled Momma
She had her litter in the guest closet. I gently and lovingly moved her and her six darlings to a cozy spot in the basement. Then cleaned the guest closet. Thoroughly.
Thud
Thud
Thud
What was this soft and elusive sound? It seemed as soon as I would get up to check it out, it stopped. Then it would start up again. I began thinking I was hearing things.
Heading to the basement to check on the kittens, I discovered what was happening. Momma was in the process of dragging each kitten, one at a time, back upstairs to the closet she had chosen to begin with. Hanging from the scruff of their necks, these poor little ones were banging against each step, all the way up. Momma actually did look frazzled, and a bit miffed with me. I brought the last two kittens up to the closet for her. After all, new moms have enough to deal with.
*Prompt #28: TAXED! (No, not in THAT way!)
“Freedom from Want”
Mr. Rockwell
Captured the ultimate
Family Thanksgiving.
Our family.
With you.
One year ago today
My cell rang.
I held my breath,
Fearing yours had ceased.
It had.
No longer free from want,
We achingly yearn
For your smile,
Your laugh,
Your presence.
Thanksgiving Day
Your beautiful daughters
Will light your funeral candle.
Our centerpiece,
Your light.
(For my cousin, sorely missed.)
*Prompt #30: Of Heart and Hearth
Haiku
Grace and gratitude
Are facilitated by
My grave shortcomings.
*Prompt #31: Gratitude in Abundance
Love and Legend (a shadorma)
Whatever
changes may occur
(whoever
is absent)
preserve family customs –
keep loved ones alive.
*Prompt #32: Traditions
Dash Away
Untangling light strings, I pray
that they will light sometime today.
And as my dear mother would say,
“But I just put Christmas away.”
I pull silver from the buffet
to polish and put on display,
then dig out the Santa and sleigh.
But I just put Christmas away!
The light strings are twinkling! Hooray!
I sneak from a rich cookie tray;
then tidy the cookie array.
(I’m just putting Christmas away. )
Twelve shopping days left, by the way,
and I have done naught but delay.
If you ask me why, I’ll just say,
“Cause I just put Christmas away.”
Still I cling to the jolly and gay …
for much to my heart’s dismay,
‘In the blink of an eye,’ as they say,
will be time to put Christmas away.
*Prompt #33: Be Prepared
Saving the Best for Last
In the quiet of Christmas Eve,
An empty manger beneath the tree
Receives the Baby King
As clock hands point heavenward.
*Prompt #34: Christmas A Week Away
For Santa Wojtanik
Enjoy the milk and cookies -
I baked them all myself.
Be good to little Sophie,
Love,
Marie Elena Elf
*Prompt #35: Do Not Open ’til Christmas
Crash and Burn
The deadline came,
The deadline went.
I did not dig,
Nor make a dent.
And though I had
Sincere intent,
My chapbook bombed,
To my lament.
The End.
*Prompt #36: Every Ending is a Beginning
Gilded Muse
Glimmer of notion
Fluid reflection
Lucid flow
Prompt #37: Photo prompt
Prompt 38 is my favorite prompt so far: Take an eye-catching line from one of the poems posted ahead of you at PB, and use it as the title of a totally new poem. Be sure to credit the poet and poem it is from. Have fun!
I’M A POET, AND AS SUCH AM TOUGH (From S.E. Ingraham’s “Undergoing a Sea Change”)
Pointless notions
seep, leak, drip, drain
flee my brain, launch campaign
to wreck my reputation.
Raw-emotions
Scored, pared, sliced, peeled
Spread open, core revealed
Displayed for summation.
In the line of fire,
Gutsy versifier.
FLESH (a short lesson in color harmony)
You
(yes, you — whoever you are, wherever you are)
complete my picture.
*Prompt #39: Colour My World
Quote from Marie Elena: “Sometimes yes means maybe no, and no means sometime, maybe.”
ADVICE TO MOMS (and dads, grandmas, grandpas, aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers, cousins, teachers, neighbors, sitters … you get the idea.)
As moms, sometimes we might give in
And let the little darlin’ win.
Does yes mean yes and no mean no?
Or maybe we don’t really know,
Depending on the mood we’re in,
We might not think. Well, think again.
Examples set and morals sown
Will speak to them until they’re grown.
Our word should be rock solid, sound,
And we should always stand our ground.
So simply let your yea be yea,
And nay must never NOT be nay.
End of story. No dispute.
(Unless, of course, their stinkin’ cute!)
*Prompt #40: Quoting ME!
Old, Faulty Parts
My fibula is so untrue.
I lack the science gene.
I cannot take a ribbing,
And my brain is not too keen.
I’m told I have a pisiform.
I find that in poor taste.
I’d find it humerus, except
My funny bone’s misplaced.
*Prompt #41: Old Relatives
I SAID TO ME
(positive self-talk for middle-grade children)
Today I think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed,
‘cause everything is mixed up in the brain inside my head.
I couldn’t seem to get things straight. There’s nothing I could do.
But then I told my dad, and he said, “Son, that’s just not true.”
My Father said, “Can’t never could, ‘cause can’t will never try.
But can works hard to get it right. Can helps us to get by.
Don’t ever tell yourself you can’t; that you don’t have the skill.
Just say ‘I can,’ and try your best, then certainly you will.”
So I said to me,
“I’ll make it be.
I’ll try with all my might.
I’ll do my part,
I’m plenty smart,
And things will be alright.”
Now when I start to say “I can’t,” I hear my father’s voice.
It tells me “Hey – you know you can. Just simply make that choice.”
*Prompt #42: Moral of the Story (child’s poem)
ONE MORE CHANCE
Step with me across the moon,
where childhood awaits
with puzzle books, and sharpened crayons
and four-wheeled roller skates.
Take my hand, and skip with me
To Thumbelina land.
Let’s grab a rope for Double Dutch;
Build castles in the sand.
Climb with me beyond the clouds
Discover who is there -
It’s Chatty Cathy, Penny Bright
And your first Teddy Bear.
Come where time did not pass by,
And ceaselessly it’s Spring
Where getting there’s the easy part:
Just grab an empty swing.
*Prompt 43: A photo prompt, “Where Have All The Flowers Gone?”
http://poeticbloomings.com/2012/02/19/where-have-all-the-flowers-gone-prompt-43/
Snippets of a Brooklyn Mission
(A daughter in crisis)
Calls in the night span nearly 600 miles
Of separation. In desperation,
We talk and pray for hours,
As schizophrenia’s power
Plots to devour her very core.
Grasped firmly in the jaws of crisis,
Dad and I turn the ignition,
On a mission only love can drive.
Finally face-to-face, we
See her palpable relief,
But this thief is unyielding,
On a mission of its own.
Her minute apartment becomes home
For a spell, as we try to slay this hell
That has claimed residence in her being.
But not all is lurid, as warm memories attest:
Love expressed as “Grandpop” meets her on the Pulaski Bridge
Each day after class, as her fragile-as-glass mind
Finds comfort in his care.
Laptop in hand, we’d snub our concerns, and
Sit on her stairs to catch our Buckeyes.
Or have a slice at Triangelo’s,
Reminiscent of Grandma’s own.
We soaked in the Brooklyn tone –
Polish bakery scents,
Market and Laundromat treks -
Nothing complex,
As we walked where we needed,
And nothing impeded our task
As we basked in the 50’s feel of it all.
Seeing through our eyes
Blew home’s breath into her setting,
Letting her fears reduce from life-threatening,
If for only precious moments.
That Fall, we followed our hearts to Brooklyn
On a mission only love can drive.
Prompt #44: Where the Rubber Meets the Road
TOO EASILY SPOOKED!
(A limerick)
There once was a gal named Marie
Whose “easy to frighten” degree
Was amplified more,
Knowing what was in store
From this Bloomin’ fear prompt poetry!
Prompt #45: FEAR
NOTE TO PAST SELF…
“Unrealistic,” you told yourself.
“I’m content, after all, with a chapbook or two,
And a blog with you.”
Contentment is SO “you.”
For once in your life, don’t aim for contentment.
Aim for this moment you’re in:
Little legs before me, “Indian style” on floor mats
Smiley-eyed, sunny faces -
Some mouthing the words as I read out loud
The picture book bearing my name.
Don’t shoot for “participant”…
Shoot for “pinch me.”
Prompt #46: BACK TO THE FUTURE
INVISIBLE TOUCH
When I can take no more
I lift my face to see
The One whom I adore.
He makes His presence known,
And He is then no more
Invisible to me
Than she inside my mirror.
He leans in close and then,
He whispers in my ear,
That I am not alone …
The words I need to hear,
Then whispers them again.
He moves through time and space
To take my fears away.
I welcome His embrace.
He tells me I’m His own,
And seals me with His grace,
A debt I can’t repay.
IN-FORM POET: GENESIS (Original form by Walter Wojtanik)
MY GOD, MY GOD
His beauty
shines like the very sun,
my eyes cannot fully take it in.
Withholding
His brilliance from no one,
His warmth springs forth to thaw the cold heart.
“Ebb and flow”
this phrasing un-embraced
by my God, whose love does not ebb, but
unrestrained,
His mercy has no bounds,
as the sea lacking Earth’s gravity.
© Marie Elena – 2012
IN-FORM POET: Parallelogram de Crystalline
HOSPICE
As you care for his needs,
Understand that this is
A feeble, powerless shadow
Of his former self.
Take a look at the photos;
Each a glimpse of a charming gentleman –
Vibrant and spontaneous,
Handsome, comical, and full of life,
Loved by the beautiful woman you see
In the photo he keeps near his heart –
The love he will dance with again
In a matter of days.
© Marie Elena Good – 3/25/12
PROMPT #48: IN THE SHADOWS (Photo Prompt)
A WOMAN’S PREROGATIVE
Once in the super hero store,
I chose a cape and tights (size 4).
The clerk was rude
She did allude
To my being obese.
She asked how I will use
These powers that I choose
Said I, on cue,
“To squeeze in to
These tights. And for world peace.”
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #49: AND SOMETIMES I WEAR A CAPE
Returning Breath
She returned to Your gravesite, expecting death.
Her name on Your lips revealed Your identity,
Took her breath away.
I return to You, her story fresh in my mind.
My name on Your lips takes my own mortal breath away,
Replacing it with Yours, eternal.
Inspired by one of my favorite passages of scripture: John 20:15-16. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”
Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned and said to him in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher).
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #50: MAKING A COMEBACK
A Spring Internment
We buried you today,
lowering you into
the short space
between wives.
I sensed murmurings
among the living
and the dead –
the air dripping with lilac
and admonition.
“She wasn’t even gone a full year,
when he began seeing
h e r.”
Whispers breathe down my neck,
or perhaps it is the night air,
but I realize life is too short
to concern yourself
with who lies in the grave
next to you.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #51: IT MAKES SENSE
IN ABSENCE OF THE HEALER
And comfort remains
the shortest route
the only means
to her emotional health,
as medications
are minimally effective,
and add their own
intolerable symptoms.
The comforter/encourager –
though not the healer,
remains the role
of immeasurable impact.
Last line from Poetic Asides April 2 prompt: Write a Visitor Poem – MY DECEASED GRANDPA (a dodoitsu)
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #52: FROM EVERY ENDING COMES A BEGINNING
REACH (a sonnet)
My feet are planted firmly here at home,
Yet seeds are scattered farther than my span.
Words blossom in encouragement-rich loam,
And flourish far beyond this gardener’s plan.
What joy, as peace and beauty grace the way,
What nourishment that seeps into my soul.
My senses overflowing every day
On shade-tinged path, or sunny poppy’d knoll.
One kernel sown, yet harvest so diverse -
A multiplicity of voice takes flight
And broadcasts as poetic seeds disperse
To transplant hope, wherever they alight.
In gratitude, two kindred gardeners toil
To cultivate Poetic Bloomings soil.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #53: RETURNING TO THE SOIL
MOONSTRUCK
(To the tune of That’s Amore)
If you hit-a my eye
With a big-a pizza pie,
That’s a law suit.
Though the moon makes me swoon
Poke-a my eye out, you lune,
That’s a law suit.
‘scusa me, but you see,
If you mess with Marie
That’s a law suit!
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #54: PLAYING FAVORITES AGAIN
Northwest Ohio
My Buckeye roots extended northeast
to the “Center of Steel Production,”
now known as the “Rust Belt.”
Following a short southern plunge into the Gulf
of Mexico, they rummaged northward again,
and have deeply rooted themselves
into Northwest Ohio’s flat terrain.
Not a hill to be found,
it clambers to give the eye something
on which to feast.
Myself, I relish the curve of the Maumee,
Eerie temperament of a storied great lake,
the stately Buckeye,
flowering Dogwood and Poplar,
scarlet Sumac, Redbud, and Sycamore.
A Spring palette of fair pastels
and equally fair temperatures
transforms to Summer’s
Petri-dish, and
brightly flamboyant panorama,
followed by a plunge in temperature, and
Autumn’s rich jeweled hues.
Soon, bare branches are laden
with dazzling white snow, that
glitters on moonlit evenings,
flaunting the crimson Cardinal.
Yet, the best is this:
Each time we pull into the drive
of our humble brick one-story,
I hear my voice say,
“I just love my home.”
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #55: COMING HOME
VICE
Once
Twice
Rolled the dice
Twice
Thrice
Paid the price
Sound advice:
That’ll suffice.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #56: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH
Elements of Design
a sonnet
Her longings go beyond where he has led.
His nightmares see her leaving him behind.
She takes his hand, in hopes that he will tread
Uncertain pathways – pages yet unlined.
His ruler and his compass firmly gripped,
He pointedly denotes their journey’s source.
Just staring blankly, feeling ill-equipped -
No dots to link; no way to chart their course.
She tenderly removes the tools in hand,
Endows him with a palette of rich hues,
Presents him with a canvassed-life unplanned;
Excitedly, they watch the tints diffuse.
Her watercolor fantasies achieved;
His fear of spontaneity relieved.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #57: THE WALK OF LIFE
EVAPORATION (a Fibonacci)
Her
heart’s
silent
insistent
pulsing prayers ascend -
cares vanishing into thin air.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #58: IN THE AIR TONIGHT
I THIRST
John 4:14 “… but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.”
For this I’ve learned – we’re not immune
To dampened dreams beneath the moon
Where love lies fallow, barren, spent;
Where thirsting hearts are spurned and rent.
My Jesus, quench my burning need
And to your living water, lead
Where charred remains of love are nursed;
Where hearts will thrive and never thirst.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #59: WATER
DISPIRITED
Darkness descended within and without.
No glint of joy; no moon to spill soft light.
Darkness blurred the margins between night
and heart -
no need to give voice to the shadows within.
Seeing her need, he rose from his rocker,
to silently build a fire in the hearth.
Her eyes fixed on the flames, as if her only solace.
He tended the fire long into the night,
until the last log was nearly consumed.
Seeing her need, he rose from his rocker,
split it, and kept the flames alive.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #60: BURNING PASSION
THE WORLD AT LARGE
Our galaxy is inconceivably vast;
Home to our planet
Within a space of roughly
Ten billion light years.
Ten
billion
light years.
Yet, here we gather -
Knowing and being known,
Hearing and understanding,
Meeting together,
Sharing words, hearts, selves,
In an instant in time,
At will.
On closer inspection,
The world at large
Really isn’t.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #61: WHAT ON EARTH?
Luke 8:25b. “Who then is this, that even winds and water obey him?”
What Storms May Come
Winds and waves threaten and rage.
Chaos ensues.
Fear engulfs.
Jesus sleeps.
The boat is small.
The collective faith, smaller still.
Jesus speaks.
Winds and waves grow tranquil.
Calm ensues.
Relief gives way to query.
Jesus ministers.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #62: GET SOME REST
DEMENTIA
Words and meanings smear like watercolor on slanted mirror.
Her ‘reasoner,’ broken.
Her fear, unspoken.
Her sense of self, lost on a shelf of saved-for-sometime dreams.
Seems little ‘clicks.’ There must be a fix – a pill that would fill her seeping soul, and bring her back,
whole.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #63: UNCERTAINTY
COMMAS DON’T SCARE ME
No hooked little mark
Will catch me off guard.
No comma faux pas
Will, leave my poem marred.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
From Nancy Posey’s Uncertainty poem Within and Beyond my Grasp
PROMPT #64. HEY, THAT’S MY LINE TWO!
A Father’s Love
In a battle for his own life,
Leukemia disassembles his cells,
One by one.
So,
When did counting breaths take precedence
Over counting cells?
When his son’s diseased lungs
Began sucking life
Instead of oxygen.
© Marie Elena Good – 2010
PROMPT #65: BETRAYED
(My apologies for posting an older poem – written in November of 2010. It is about my Uncle Jim and his son “Punk,” who passed from this life to the next within ten weeks of each other. I simply could not have admired them more.)
MEMOIR PROJECT, PART 1
WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, MARIE ELENA GOOD?
Merciful. She finds it easy to be merciful, as she experiences daily the mercy of her God.
Approachable. Welcoming eyes and ready smile … not peculiar enough to frighten, nor so lovely as to intimidate.
Redeemed. Sinner-deemed-sinless, a debt she can’t pay.
Indebted. Humbly and deeply thankful for parents who taught much, and loved regardless; an abundance of encouraging, uplifting, loyal friends and extended family; and mostly her Creator, whose unyielding love, grace, and mercy breathe her very existence.
Enthusiastic. Taught by her father that “Nothing great was ever accomplished without enthusiasm.”
Enthralled. Captivated by life, love, and words.
Lazy. Often rising with the sun to walk the beach in Naples three decades ago, she now lazily hits the snooze three or four or six times rather than rise to take a short morning walk.
Encourager. “Therefore encourage one another and build one another up.” 1 Thessalonians 5:11
Nonna. Her favorite vocation, hands down.
Athletic. …and sometimes, she blatantly lies.
Gullible. Too quick to say, “Really? Wow!” then later slap forehead with the all-too-familiar, “Oh. Duh.”
Observant. Truly, about as observant as she is athletic. (Read, “Blatantly lies.”)
Oldfashioned. Dreams of returning to days when morals were more than just folklore.
Dandelion lover. … but only in poetry and fields. Not in her yard.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #66: WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
MEMOIR PROJECT, PART 2
PRIDE (confession in sonnet)
The very word sends shivers to my spine
For pride, it’s said, arrives before the fall.
To write about my pride, I would decline:
A cowardly response, and not my call.
Since false humility is pride implied,
A path to cover tracks that lead to fact,
I recognize the need to swallow pride,
And keep some semblance of the truth intact.
With that, I look upon this very site -
Admit I’m proud of what we two have done.
So here’s my ego, splayed in black and white -
Along with hopes we’ve only just begun.
This said, my heart and pen make this demand:
“Don’t leave this page ungrateful for God’s hand.”
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #67: LOOK WHAT I DID!
BELMONT AVENUE
She was a two-story, humble abode;
Up in years, but still
She wore white well.
I don’t recall the kitchen much
Before Dad’s home-made solid oak cabinets, and Mom’s
Fruit-dappled wallpaper with appealing colors
That showcased the oak.
I also can’t quite recall the walled staircase
Before Dad opened it up, and added an elegant
Curve.
Then there’s my bedroom, of which I have
No recollection, pre-
Flamboyantly pink flowered wallpaper
Of my five-year-old big-girl choosing, that
My parents tolerated, and my Grandpa
Patiently hung.
I’m quite certain her front porch
Had limited personality until
Our porch swing was hung
And summer nights meant staying up late,
Pajama-clad, swinging and singing
And chatting and waving
To neighbors that happened by.
While some things were lovingly changed,
Others were equally as lovingly allowed to just be.
There was the dining room wallpaper mural –
An elegant home
With winding creek and weeping willows,
Where I used to sit for hours,
Placing myself in such a charming and picturesque scene.
What I truly treasured about our home, though,
Was her setting -
Comfortably settled among the homes of
Loving aunts, uncles, and eleven cousins.
© – Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #68: WELCOME HOME
Might You Be A Poet?
She once was told to write about someone influential in her life –
someone with no family ties.
So she set aside for a moment the fact that they are surely
twin cousins, separated at birth,
growing up in an eerily similar life and time.
She focused instead on the shared yellow brick road
to poetic solidarity.
It took no effort on her part, as her pen gushed
camaraderie
harmony
laughter -
then abruptly stopped.
She coaxed it gently, conceding the feeling
something was missing.
It began again – this time slowly, softly,
in watercolor.
She watched as it whispered
t e a r s
p r a y e r s
g r a t i t u d e.
Ah, yes.
She capped her pen,
and smiled warmly eastward.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #69: WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS
“Don’t drink, don’t smoke – what do you do?” ~ from Adam Ant’s “Goody Two Shoes”
SHOES
At a rather formal function,
A male voice hollered, “SHOES!”
Though dapper guests were mystified,
Myself was not confused.
I whirled around to catch his eye,
And saw him standing there
With playful eyes, a roguish grin,
And meager reddish hair.
We hadn’t seen each other
In probably five years
He really hadn’t changed his ways,
This teaser, it appears.
He called me “Shoes” or nothing,
‘Twas fitting, in his view.
But not as in a fetish -
Just short for “Goody Two.”
And he was not the only one
Who labeled me this way
Another boss and friend of mine,
While I was once away,
Took over my computer
My “theme song” to implant.
When I returned to work to boot her,
Out roared Adam Ant!
© Marie Elena Good – original 2009; rewritten 2012
PROMPT #70: A.K.A.
P.S. This was even before I had married Keith Good!
MOM’S CHICKEN PAPRIKASH (Yes, it gets its own sonnet. It’s that good.)
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee for the chicken she sautés
With onion, to a golden-crusted glaze,
That fills her home with welcoming bouquets.
Paprika-peppered drippings add some spice
To sour cream-rich sauce that MAKES this fare -
As if it needs more flavor to entice.
The dumplings are to-die-for. Must I share?
She adds a crusty bread or dinner roll,
To sop up every drop of luscious sauce.
I must admit, I have no self control -
My portion-size-controller’s at a loss.
The balance of the flavors is ideal.
It’s everyone’s requested birthday meal.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #71: FOOD FOR THOUGHT
MARIE ELENA’S JOURNEY:
1974 – 1989
New state,
New town,
New high school.
My sophomore year, I spot you.
I say to my new friend,
“Someday, I will marry him.”
I recall my mother telling my sister,
“Use your eyes, Peg.”
And so I “use” my eyes.
Is that what caught your attention?
I can’t say for sure, but it seemed to me
You used your eyes as well.
We walk Naples beach.
We hold hands,
Play football in the sand,
Sit close on the band bus for “away” games.
We talk, and laugh, and hug
And can’t say goodbye.
My senior year, we marry.
We enjoy each others’ company.
We enjoy our three children.
Just shy of thirteen years,
We say that goodbye.
One of us needed no one else.
One, apparently not.
© Marie Elena Good
PROMPT #72: AT FIRST SIGHT
VISIONS OF HEALTH (a sonnet for Grandpa Dunn)
A “smoking man” before you were a man,
Reluctantly you quit in later years.
To sidestep cancer’s outbreak was your plan,
Which fell far short of halting cancer’s gears.
They said your health was very, very poor
And I knew there was nothing I could do.
No meals or hugs, nor simple visits, for
Twelve hundred miles distanced me from you.
The greater part of me must thank my God
For distancing me once you were beset
With toxic cells that ambushed, seized, and clawed -
No horrid recollections to forget.
I never saw you lying in repose,
Nor even in the midst of cancer’s throes.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #73: DEATH BE NOT PROUD
MY POOR HUSBAND (a double fibonacci)
Call
me
obsessed
with football,
but it only counts
for THE Ohio State Buckeyes
(both college and pro).
My widowed
husband
stands
by.
Copyright © Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #74: MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH
MAKING EXPLOSIVES
I’m exactly half Italian, and half Irish.
One would assume this fusion
would increase the predilection toward explosive behavior.
I blew that theory all to pieces.
Copyright © Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #75: MOTHERLAND
AS I RECALL (haibun)
Dad was a teacher. Mom was a homemaker, in the truest sense. Their bank account held no vacation funds, I’m certain. They allowed me to accompany my heart-rich, generous aunt and uncle and their kids on vacations of their own. My little home-body heart was comfortable on the road with my extended family, who felt more like siblings than cousins to my sister and me. I got to experience the ocean in Nahant, Longwood Gardens, Hershey, and Gettysburg, PA., and cherry blossom season in Washington D.C. I have memories of Aunt Peg trying to convince a Whitehouse guard that I was Jackie Kennedy’s niece. Though truth-be-told, I’m not entirely certain that is my own memory, or if it simply became real to me as family reminisced and laughed through the years. But even reminiscing about memories that are not truly ours makes for grand remembrance, doesn’t it? Funny how what I love to look back on is not where we went, or what we saw … it is simply time spent with those I love … those who returned to life right across the street from us when our vacations were done.
to reminisce
to journey in my mind
where love leads
Copyright © Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #76: ROAD TRIP
TAKE IRONING
Why is it that everything Mom did
Looked like so much fun?
Washing dishes, stripping wallpaper,
Scrubbing floors, hosing down the house –
She made it all look delightful.
Take ironing.
I clearly recall the sound
Of Mom’s clothes sprinkler,
As she shook it like a salt shaker,
Sprinkling water on the clothes
Before pressing them.
What fun!
Oh, the excitement the day she entrusted me
With ironing Dad’s handkerchiefs.
Oh, the letdown when the novelty wore off,
And “fun” transitioned to “chore.”
Take ironing.
Please.
Copyright © Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #77: IT’S A CHORE
MOM
When I was a baby, my mother was my world.
No one else could feed me,
change me,
hold me,
rock me –
No one else would do.
As a young girl, my world expanded.
Yet, I missed her terribly if we were apart
For even short periods.
As a high school girl, I appreciated
And respected
My stay-at-home mother.
Her grandchildren love her above all.
Her nieces and nephews value her presence.
My father tells me that as a mother,
I remind him of Mom.
I’ve tucked that notion deep in my heart
For safekeeping,
Retrieving it for reassurance
Whenever I doubt myself.
I want her to know – to tell her how much she is loved –
But my brain lacks the words
My heart possesses.
Copyright © – Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #78: MAMA MIA!
Anywhere with Cousins
Whoever’s house,
Whichever park,
Whoever’s porch,
Whichever street,
Whoever’s room,
Whoever’s yard
Whatever rink
Whichever pool
Whatever field
Whatever pond
Whatever creek
Whichever place
Where we could be
All together – family.
(To Patti, Punk, Susie, Carrie, Connie, Shan, Dick, Bobbie, Mary, Jimmy, Barbara, Ray, Jim, Judi, Tom, Lisa, and Chris – with more love and gratefulness than my heart can contain.)
Copyright © – Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #79: HANGING OUT
September 22, 1963
five-year-old eyes watch
as little boy salutes
daddy’s coffin
Copyright © – Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #80: BIG EVENT
When He’s Gone
His grandchildren refuse to think of life
Without their Grandpop.
He has been there for them
James Fagnano
In every way imaginable
In all the ways
That make a difference in one’s life.
I refuse to think of life without him as well.
He has been there for me
In all the ways that make a man
Both a father and a dad.
He has cheated life
three times.
Perhaps hundreds more.
“God must have more for me to do.”
Yes, Dad. How right you are -
More love to give
More guidance to offer
More music to make
More prayers to pray.
And when he’s gone, he’ll live on.
Copyright © – Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #81: JUST WAIT ‘TIL YOUR FATHER GETS HOME
RESTORED (for my Keith [Naani form])
the moment your eyes verbalized
authentic love
and my heart learned to be fluent
in trust
Copyright © – Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #82: MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF MY LIFE
(*Sijo)
Perhaps an only child would once have preferred to remain so.
Perhaps she grapples still in deep or shallow recesses,
Never quite comfortable journeying in sister shoes.
Yet as she treks time’s encounters, does she open her eyes to see
Herself reflected in those of her sister’s affection,
And perchance recognize how deeply loved and valued she is.
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #83: SIBLING REVELRY
One Mother’s Lament (Haibun)
Being an admirer of those who glance back yet don’t bemoan, I aspire to do the same. However, this is difficult (read “impossible”) as a mother. I’m thankful for the relationship I have with my now-grown children. There is much love and respect, and mutual enjoyment – and always has been. Yet I think of their junior high and high school years with pangs of remorse for what could have been. Activities, rehearsals, competitions, plays, football games, concerts, time with their friends – much to hamper family dinners at the kitchen table.
Fast food drive-through runs
Offer little nourishment
For heart and spirit
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #84: COULDA, WOULDA, SHOULDA
GIVERS AND TAKERS
Be watchful of the takers in your life -
Not every soul a giving heart retains.
The takers sap our joy and trigger strife.
My adage, this: it’s she who gives, who gains.
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #85: FAMOUS LAST WORDS
SILENT NIGHT
As cattle low and donkeys bray,
A worried man begins to pray.
“She’s weary, Lord, and birth pains loom,
We need an Inn, but none have room.”
A stable with a bed of hay
Affords them with a place to stay.
She lies amongst the bleating sheep -
Where there she finds no peace for sleep.
The hour of our Savior’s birth
Sweet angel voices sing His worth,
While Satan howls – himself, enraged
In knowing that a war’s been waged
A war the Babe Himself will win –
To free us from our senseless sin.
Beneath the sacred star-lit night,
How silent was that holy night?
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good 2012
PROMPT #86: CELEBRATION IN SONG
what sweeter dream
at end of day
than Babe of peace
in manger’s hay
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good 2012
PROMPT #87: VISIONS OF SUGARPLUMS
The View From Here
Quality writing takes time and heart.
Submitting takes time, heart, research, and resolve.
Heart, I have …
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2012
PROMPT #88: I HEREBY RESOLVE
UNTITLED
Taste and see the Lord’s goodness –
His grace will not pass away.
From the foundation of the world,
His devotion to mankind was unveiled.
Since He spoke light into the darkness,
It has exposed no ordinary cosmos.
Evidence of His magnificent handiwork
Defies creation’s denial.
Taste and see His goodness.
His grace will not pass away.
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #89: FRIENDS WITH WORDS
TRAWL
Ice melts away
Gray sheds to gray
Man feeling tinned
Casts worth to wind
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #90: PHOTO PROMPT
Nightlight (A poem for wee ones)
I light your path from bed and back
So you won’t be afraid,
Or fall from tripping on the drum
On which today you’d played.
I light your room so you can see
The photos on your shelf
Of mom and dad and gram and gramps,
And of your smiling self.
I light your bed so you can see
Your favorite teddy bear
Your pillow, blanket, she ts, and soft
PJ’s you chose to wear
I light your night so you can see
The shadows on your wall
Are outlines of the things you love –
Not menacing at all.
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #91: IT IS ALIVE!
sparrow
take time to observe
and rediscover this:
common
does not equal
nothing special.
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #92: GONE TO THE BIRDS
IF THE WHOLE WORLD WAS SILLY
Inspired by Shel Silverstein’s “If the World Was Crazy”
If the whole world was silly, you know what I’d eat?
Worm Fettuccini, right off of the street.
Some caramelized whiskers of catfish today;
Tomorrow, perhaps a nice leather fillet.
A handful of gravel from Mr. Green’s drive,
With honey bee’s knees from an elephant’s hive.
Gallons of hazelnut-chocolate-bean chili.
That’s what I’d eat if the whole world was silly.
If the whole world was silly, you know what I’d wear?
An upside-down tuba, and one for a spare.
A glove on my foot, and two socks on one hand,
Yesterday’s junk mail; fresh peach skin (or canned).
My big sister’s homework, my Uncle Jim’s lures,
And maybe that G.I. Joe lunch pail of yours.
Oversized dentures from Great, Great Aunt Milly.
That’s what I’d wear if the whole world was silly.
If the whole world was silly, you know what I’d do?
I’d unzip the sky to let hippos skip through.
I’d hop into books, and I’d flip through my bed.
I’d butter my face, and smooth lip balm on bread.
I’d plant fish from seed, and teach star fruit to swim.
Then I’d color each glare with a nice shade of dim.
Everyone’s name would end with “The Frilly,”
If I was the queen, and the whole world was silly.
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2009
PROMPT #93: THE CHILDREN’S HOUR
Uh-oh, Scorpio!
Scorpio’s my sign,
And I don’t mean to whine,
But I found just one trait
To which I can relate.
Observant? This is laughable.
Detached? No, I’m quite affable.
Front-runner? Thanks, but that’s not me.
Ambitious? Little energy.
Power, strength, strong will, and passion?
Most of these in minor ration.
Secretive? Mysterious?
Oh please – you can’t be serious.
But then they mentioned “loyalty,”
The only trait depicting me.
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #94: SO HEY … WHAT’S YOUR PROMPT?
UNREHEARSED THIRST
A sip of water was fodder for ranting. Slanting toward screwy, this hooey distracts from the facts, be they left or right. Polite society allows a variety of thought, and we ought to connect and respect. To be precise – fight nice.
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #95: READ IT IN A MAGAZINE
Marco Rubio’s Water-Bottle Moment, posted by Ian Crouch: http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/newsdesk/2013/02/marco-rubio-water-bottle-moment.html
A LITTLE GIRL’S DREAM
She dreamed of grace through ballet -
Tulle layered to below her calf
Satan ribbon crisscrossing at her ankle
Waltzing on toe.
Ballet was offered only paired with tap,
For which she had no desire.
No desire until she acquired a taste
For black patent leather shoes.
Became enthralled with
Brush step, patter tap
Clicking rhythm
On hard surface beneath her feet.
Decades later, as she sees herself
In elderly women who
Shuffle
Lumber
Trudge,
She once again dreams of grace.
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2013
IN-FORM POET WEDNESDAY PROMPT – IMAGISM
VOICES
Unable to distinguish a thought
A voice
A word
A frame
A syllable
Alone in a sea of conversation
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #96 – WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM OUR FRIENDS
“Alone in a sea of conversation” from Erin Kay Hope’s TRUE BRAVERY (Imagism form)
Rosie’s Book of Monster Love (a Rubáiyát for little ones)
On a page where monsters lurked,
Underpaid and overworked,
Unacknowledged, unasked-for,
Feeling useless, sad, and irked
There amongst the story’s snooty
Characters of empty beauty
Overvalued, charmless types
Moral character off-duty
Lived delightful little Rosie -
Chatty, she, and very nosey.
She transformed the monsters’ page,
Made it colorful and cozy,
Summoned monsters, large and small,
Left out not-a-one at all,
Made them tea and cakes to savor
Oh, those monsters had a ball!
Rosie held each monster tight,
Loved “so much,” and took delight
Being cuddle-loved by ogres
On the page devised for fright!
Rosie spread her arms out wide,
“All friends here!” she beamed with pride.
As each page turned eagerly,
Rosie’s love spread story-wide.
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
(In honor of my just-turned-two granddaughter Sophie [aka "Rose" and "Rosie"]. When she loves a toy, she squeezes tight and says “SO much! SOOOOO much!” She also often spreads her arms wide as described in my poem, as if to pull all of us in the room into her arms, and exclaims, “All friends, here!” while she just beams with delight. We have no idea where she gets this stuff.
The love of our lives, for sure!)
IN-FORM POET WEDNESDAY – Rubáiyát
UNTITLED
Hot tea
roaring fire
soft robe, warm from dryer
smooth jazz
hot bath
hand-in-hand, strolling path
good read
white wine
heavy snow on soft pine
porch swing
easy chair
deep pillow
earnest prayer
© Copyright Marie Elena Good -2013
PROMPT #97 – TRUE SILENCE
Relatively Speaking (a haibun)
Before the sun rises, he starts his day with strong coffee and a shot glass. He is soft-spoken and trustworthy; never lewd nor aggressive. Incompetence is not in his nature. From dark to dark, he drinks hard, yet works hard – finding solutions where others stumble; aiding those in need, giving no heed to whether they be angel or devil, “deserving” or not. He battles his own demons, and judges not his fellow man.
I’ve never known him
Not inebriated,
Yet never known him drunk
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #98 – MEAN WHAT YOU SAY, SORT OF…
Haiku
Who decided grass
Should grace everybody’s lawn?
Moss keeps itself cut.
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #99 – GOD’S GREEN EARTH
MY LORD AND SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST (A Kyrielle Sonnet)
Creator, Father, Lord of all,
Your Son submitted to Your call,
Abandoning His throne above,
How can I best express my love?
His sacred hands nailed to a tree,
He bore my punishment for me -
An act I am unworthy of,
How can I best express my love?
He conquered death, that I might live -
A gift that only He could give.
God’s Son again enthroned above,
How can I best express my love?
Creator, Father, Lord of all,
How can I best express my love?
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
IN-FORM POET WEDNESDAY – KYRIELLE SONNET FORM
VOICES IN THE GARDEN
Come sit beside me in the shade of living canopy.
Close your eyes. Soak in the rhythm, romance, and whimsy.
Wrap yourself in the serene embrace of graceful, fluid form.
Let the breeze of the lush and lyrical lift, and
Carry you above the stress of sweeping strife and discord,
For none can be heard in this garden of validation.
You will find no boundaries, no borders, and no barricades.
Come scatter your seeds, then watch them grow and thrive,
Mingling with the bold, the melodious, the witty, the sober.
Your voice is not only welcome, it is passionately celebrated.
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #100 – CELEBRATION OF THE CENTURY
DAVID
He considers profoundly
The beauty before him,
Knowing she belongs to another.
He uses his authority to order her
Husband
to the front lines.
He feels no remorse
For death in war is honorable.
Yes?
Besides,
What does it profit a man
If the perks of royalty elude him?
He is convinced his king-heart is selfless;
That his royal power is used
For the wellbeing of his people,
And not as a means
To gain the world
And all therein.
He seeks only what is best for this
worthy creature.
Surely he could give her what Uriah could not.
Surely for this precious gem,
Uriah would be willing to give
his life
And forfeit his soul.
Independent Message:
What does it profit a man
To gain the world,
And forfeit his soul?
(Mark 8:36)
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
Bummer. The comment sections won’t hold the formatting. I have to admit that this was one of the hardest forms I’ve ever attempted.
IN-FORM POET WEDNESDAY – LINE MESSAGING
Risen, Indeed!
Pondering the blood-drenched tree
There but for His mercy, me
Tear-stained face, I bow the knee
Hallelujah! He is risen!
Low, for me His blood was drained
Love entombed, yet not contained
Absolution, as ordained
Hallelujah! He is risen!
© Copyright Marie Elena – 2013
PROMPT #101 – WHICH CAME FIRST – THE RABBIT OR THE EGG?
GIVE ME EYES TO SEE
To look into another’s eyes
And truly see the soul that cries –
The fear and angst on which it feeds
The love that lost, the heart that bleeds
The expectation that misleads
The loveliness beneath the needs
The strength behind the smallest deeds
The blooms among the choking weeds.
This trampled soul with courage tries
Beyond what meets the eye implies.
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
IN-FORM POET WEDNESDAY – DUO-RHYME
Inhabiting Moments
There was a day when life moved at the speed of carriage; when intimacy waited for marriage. Evening meals were planned, prepared and, following prayer, shared.
Dim the light.
Rewrite the greed.
Linger.
Proceed
Gently though the years, before time disappears.
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
PROMPT #102 – EKPHRASTIC POETRY (PHOTO PROMPT – PHOTO BY MARJORY M. THOMPSON)