SONNET FOR AN APRIL MOON

The final April moon will soon take leave.
Contentedly, he navigates the sky.
He knows not that his passing makes us grieve,
Nor hears the tone of our collective sigh.

For thirty eves, the moon has cast his spell
Releasing inspiration from his core
Yet, now has come the time to say farewell,
As April’s moon will strum our hearts no more.

No gathering beneath his fetching smile,
Nor once-upon-a-timing ‘neath his glow.
Though next year, he will once again beguile;
Inspiring prose and verse to daily flow.

Our melancholy hearts will melt away,
For there will be a new moon come what May.

Marie Elena

PRINTS (Sophie's Sonnet)

A woman knows instinctively, it seems,

Which moments will leave prints upon her soul.

Her future life weaves fabric through her dreams

And writes upon her heart, as though a scroll.

A woman thinks she knows what to expect

From pioneering moments in her world -

Anticipation of events’ effects,

And how her heart will feel as they’re unfurled.

Yet, there was I, as wholly unprepared

As if I’d never given you a thought.

My heart and hub were all-at-once ensnared –

I would convey in words, yet I cannot.

Sophia Rose: a gift from God above –

New life. New breath. New gift. New print. New love.

Marie Elena (Nonna Marie)
 

Photo by Marie Elena Good

BEHIND EVERY GOOD MAN

This season tries his stamina and might,
And puts his disposition to the test.
Still, dimples bare, and eyes twinkle with light;
He carries on with energy and zest.

Though people think his work is child’s play,
I’m one who understands just what it takes.
Commitment is his motto ev’ry day
He works the whole year through, for goodness’ sakes.

I never miss an opportunity
To feed him well, or rub his weary feet.
He gives his all to each community;
I give my all to make his life complete.

Devoted both to him and to the cause,
I’ll always be – for I am Mrs. Claus.

Marie Elena

CROSSROADS (A sonnet for my cousin, with love)

Psalm 139:16. … all the days ordained for me were written in your book

before one of them came to be.

James E. Powers, Jr. 

September 23, 1952 - November 19, 2010

He stands between the living and the dead,
as ailing lungs no longer understand
the expectations of a heart in dread,
not willing to let go of all it planned.

Though comatose, his mind exerts its will,
Not giving up, nor knowing how to cope;
As loved ones, keeping vigilant, instill
An ember of illuminating hope.

Sad we cannot return to days of old,
Of playing ‘til the streetlights called us home;
Now, heart-in-throat, we watch events unfold;
Our desperate pens add chapters to his tome.

Yet, God imparts His own life-giving breath,
to give eternal life that transcends death.

Marie Elena
 
"...  just around the corner from the light of day"  The Boss

You lost the battle to breathe earth's air this morning, but gained eternal, celestial air.  You are loved, and always will be.  See you on the other side, Punk.

SUMMER TAKES LEAVE (A SONNET)

As earlier the moon begins to rise,
and sun sets in the peached and purpled sky,
so even birds and animals surmise
that fall is in the air -- though slightly shy.

Don’t let her cool appearance disconcert,
for she can be as warm as amber‘s core.
Her sun, no longer brass, will toy and flirt,
as dazzling colors soon come to the fore.

As summer takes her leave, she bids farewell.
Yet I, for one, cannot feign grand despair.
She failed to cast on me her storied spell.
I’ll welcome autumn’s palette, and brisk air.

As summertime releases sultry hold,
I watch for autumn’s magic to unfold.
 
Marie Elena

MY BIBLE (A SONNET)

I’m living in a country where I’m blessed;

where I can freely read God’s word at will.

Without the fear of seizure and arrest,

I drink it in to get my daily fill.

Not everybody sees it as God’s word;

some see it as a convoluted text.

I can’t believe their hearts would not be stirred;

a thought that leaves me saddened and perplexed.

I cannot fathom life without this gift

that speaks to me through times of pain and strife.

Without God’s word, my heart would be adrift,

and, aimlessly, I’d wander through this life.

Immersed inside The Word, I’m right at home --

My Father is the author of this tome.

Thankful for this freedom.

Marie Elena