Day 8 of my #PoeticQuarantine Challenge

The #PoeticQuarantine Challenge continues to day 8.

The inspiration for today’s poem comes to you courtesy of my night of interrupted sleep.





Why does the dog


want to go outside

at two in the morning

when I’m deep asleep?

I open the door to let him out,

and a chilly breeze sneaks inside.

Three street lamps glow

like fallen stars

over my neighborhood.

All is quiet.

Even the lucky crickets sleep.

Soon, the dog comes inside.

When I crawl back into bed,

my blankets have cooled

and keep me awake.

My busy mind can be unkind

in the middle of the night.

Thoughts burst like

thousands of birds in flight.

Did I pay the mortgage?

Did I lock the door?

Why can’t everyone

practice kindness?

Why do Twinkies

have such a long shelf life?

Why does the shower

drip its last drops while

I’m trying to sleep?

Why does the dog kick me

while he’s dreaming?

Why can’t the alarm clock

know when I need

an extra hour of sleep?

How can it be time

to wake up

when I haven’t

fallen asleep?



Leslie Leibhardg Goodman

Day 7 of the #PoeticQuarantine Challenge

For Day 7 of the #PoeticQuarantine Challenge, I challenged myself to write an acrostic poem in which the first letter of each line spells out a word. For my subject, I chose the word QUARANTINE and decided to share my day with you through an unrhymed poem in this creative writing form.


Max napping



Quite possibly, I’ll find something to do. If it looks like a rainy day, I’ll pop open my

Umbrella and walk through the drops, stomp in puddles, and greet people who

Are out playing in the rain, too. I’ll stroll slow so I’ll notice the things that are

Right in front of me–things I never noticed before. I want to enjoy today and not work

Another few hours after lunch. Maybe I’ll find violets poking up, or I’ll see the

Nuthatch gather twigs for her nest. I’ll listen to raindrops drum on my umbrella like a

Tune. Maybe I’ll dance down the street. When I come home, I’ll slip off my boots and go

Inside. I’m okay with not working today. The dog would love my company for his

Nap. So, I’ll curl up and snooze while the sun moves from noon to two. Soon, Max’s

Eyes will tell me he’s ready for a walk. “Looks like the sun’s out, boy. Let’s go slow.”


Leslie Leibhardt Goodman


See you tomorrow

Celebrating Poetry Month this Perfect Picture Book Friday!

I came across a book of poetry written by Robert Macfarlane. I wasn’t able to see a preview of any of the poems online, and the illustration on the cover was the only illustration I could see. So, why did I want this book so much?  Because of this line from the opening page.

Once upon a time, words began to vanish from the language of children. They disappeared so quietly that at first, almost no one noticed–fading away like water on stone.

I ordered the book from my library and when it came in, I was awestruck by both the lyrical language chosen for each poem and the masterful illustrations. I read the poems again and again. I studied them, and I enjoyed them.

Every once in a while, I come across a book that touches me so deeply that I have to own the book so I can return to its pages whenever the mood comes.

For me, this is that book.

Title –  The Lost Words – A Spell Book

Author– Robert Macfarlane

Illustrator – Jackie Morris

Published by – Hamish Hamilton – 2017

Suitable for everyone of all ages. 

Topics – Poetry, nature, plants, and animals

Opening –   


As a flake is to blizzard, as
Curve is to sphere, as knot is to net, as
One is to many, a coin is to money, as bird is to flock, as
Rock is to mountain, as drop is to fountain, as spring is to river, as glint is to glitter, as
Near is to far, as wind is to weather, as feather is to flight, as light is to star, as kindness      is to good, so acorn is to wood.

Amazon Review HERE.

In 2007, when a new edition of the Oxford Junior Dictionary ― widely used in schools around the world ― was published, a sharp-eyed reader soon noticed that around forty common words concerning nature had been dropped. Apparently, they were no longer being used enough by children to merit their place in the dictionary. The list of these “lost words” included acornadderbluebelldandelionfernheronkingfishernewtotter, and willow.

Among the words taking their place were attachmentblogbroadbandbullet-point, cut-and-paste, and voice-mail. The news of these substitutions ― the outdoor and natural being displaced by the indoor and virtual ― became seen by many as a powerful sign of the growing gulf between childhood and the natural world.

Ten years later, Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris set out to make a “spell book” that will conjure back twenty of these lost words, and the beings they name, from acorn to wren. By the magic of word and paint, they sought to summon these words again into the voices, stories, and dreams of children and adults alike, and to celebrate the wonder and importance of everyday nature. The Lost Words is that book ― a work that has already cast its extraordinary spell on hundreds of thousands of people and begun a grass-roots movement to re-wild childhood across Britain, Europe, and North America.

Learn more about Robert Macfarlane HERE.

Learn more about Jackie Morris HERE.


Until next Friday.

Day 6 of the #PoeticQuarantine Challenge

Welcome to day 6 of the #PoeticQuarantine Challenge.

I write at the desk my grandmother gave to me many years ago because it’s filled with memories of my childhood that play into my stories and poems. Sometimes, I like to change the place where I write for a little while, hoping a new location will bring fresh energy and inspiration.

Two weeks ago, I brought my laptop into the dining room where our table faces a bank of windows, looking out onto the yard. This morning, the robins hopped through the grass in search of breakfast, a pair of gray and brown rabbits scampered in quick rings around the pines, a squirrel zipped through their game, and a possum lumbered close by. I loved every moment.

Animals are unaware of world events that fill the news and fill our thoughts with worry. They simply live. While I’m writing, I try to do the same. I push out the world and focus my thoughts on those things that bring me the greatest sense of peace.

For today’s poem, I found inspiration in the rain and wrote a haiku poem about spring.





Spring rains pour and seep

deep into the waiting soil

where earthworms toil to sprout up.


Leslie Leibhardt Goodman


until tomorrow.