The Stormy Night

C’mon thunderstorm on this warm summer’s night

Rip through me with your white hot lightning

Warning shots roaring in the distant skies

Running down the sidewalk,

Hopping the fence

Cut through the grass,

Laughing wildly

Wondering if it will strike

Heart thumping against my cotton shirt,

Soaked through,

Feeling every drop.

Arms stretched out, spinning

Face to the sky, I breathe it in

Smells like fire and tastes like moonshine

Smiling like one who’s unraveled a great mystery

And will never tell a soul

Racing past houses, trees, telephone poles

Arriving at my door stop,

Porch swing dripping wet

Feeling so alive,

A child of the stormy night

A survivor.

Photo Credit: Flickr.com/Chrisirmo- Creative Commons- Chris Thompson
Photo Credit: Flickr.com/Chrisirmo- Creative Commons- Chris Thompson

Like the Wind (En Español: Me Gust-o!)

You pass through the trees,
Whispering nature’s deepest secrets
Singing the songs of the ancients,
Blessings of eternal truth

You came to me on a winter’s day,
Playfully dancing as snowflakes do,
A frosty bite in the air, you turned my cheeks to blush

Piercing through me, through my very bones,

You tossed the illusion of this world upside down,

As I tossed caution aside,

Opening the window to let you in like nothing before

Nothing less, nothing more

Strong and fierce you blast the senses,

Creating piles of leaves to truffle through with joy, rain swept sideways, Dorothy flying from Kansas

True to nature, you too are the gentle breeze off the cerulean waters,

Calming my spirit on a sweltering summers day,

Sending butterflies twirling, dipping and fluttering, through the meadows of my heart

Kites of all sorts soaring in the skies,

Children below giving you thanks

As they hold fast, racing through the grass

Wrap me up, wrap me up and take me..  away we’ll fly,

Wherever we may land is home.

Photo Credit: Flickr.com- Creative Commons- Christos Tsoumplekas
Photo Credit: Flickr.com- Creative Commons- Christos Tsoumplekas

She Comes, Hearts Rise

Hearts floating through the night

Find a resting place in dreams of mine

In through my window they swirl

Effervescent ballet, all the colors of imagination

Bubbling inside, one tickles my nose

The purest of hearts, she alights every smile

Like a candle  from the dawn of time

Slow and steady, burns the eternal flame

In her presence, demons scatter

Vow never to return, as true love and grace conquer the night

Dream Fairy Photo Credit: Flickr.com- Creative Commons- Picture by Alexandria Lanier
Dream Fairy, Photo Credit: Flickr.com- Creative Commons- Picture by Alexandria Lanier

 

“Writing: often it is the only thing between you and impossibility.”

Originally posted on The Daily Post:

Writing
often it is the only
thing
between you and
impossibility.
no drink,
no woman’s love,
no wealth
can
match it.
nothing can save
you
except
writing.
it keeps the walls
from
failing.
the hordes from
closing in.
it blasts the
darkness.
writing is the
ultimate
psychiatrist,
the kindliest
god of all the
gods.
writing stalks
death.
it knows no
quit.
and writing
laughs
at itself,
at pain.
it is the last
expectation,
the last
explanation.
that’s
what it
is.

Charles Bukowski, “Writing.”

View original

Literacy Narrative

While moving recently, I came across many interesting things from years past.. including a lot of writing. The following literacy narrative from Fall 2011 was my 1st school “assignment” after being on hiatus for a decade. It is in the form of a letter to my literature professor at the time, and it was a wonderful class. 

Dear Professor M______,

I am writing this letter to you with a sense of excitement and novelty. It has been over a decade since I have been a college student, and in ways I feel both more and less developed as a writer. While I feel the decade-long disconnect with the formal essay and a need to sharpen my grammatical skills, I also feel more accomplished as a journalist and writer of children’s fiction stories.

Currently, I’m a writer and editor with IndyKids- a current events newspaper and educational tool for young adults. While researching and writing about current events, science and animals has been a good learning experience for me, to feel complete as a writer I also enjoy writing freestyle and creating works of fiction for children. Two years ago, I took a Gotham writing course in children’s literature, which has helped me to reconnect with my inner child! Middle grade chapter books are my favorite stories to write thus far. When I’m writing a children’s story, I feel like both an inventor and a world explorer, creating new lands and living out adventures in these new places through my characters’ eyes. It reminds me of times gone by, growing up reading my favorite Roald Dahl books (and others!) and escaping to far away places under extraordinary circumstances and seeing the story through, all under the guise of characters such as Matilda, George, Charlie and the BFG (Big Friendly Giant).

Such a great love of reading had to come from somewhere… and for me I feel that love developed from my grandparents’ love of reading stories to me. I have been told that as a baby, I wasn’t growing very much due to lack of appetite for all things edible. My grandma Elsie was elated when she discovered how long my mouth would hang open when she read Little Golden Books to me! As I sat in the high-chair in my grandparents’ kitchen, she would read to me Mister Dog and The Poky Little Puppy and deliver spoonfuls of eggs and oatmeal into my curious, gaping little mouth. Grandma passed away in that same kitchen when I was just two-and-a-half years old. In that heartbreaking moment I lost my dear friend and my grandma, but thanks to my grandpa Jack I never lost my love of reading books and learning.

After I moved to an apartment upstairs with my parents, several times a week grandpa Jack would come up to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story. I vividly remember him reading a book of biographies of all the presidents of the United States, up until Ronald Reagan at that point in time. To this day, I probably know some odd facts about Grover Cleveland that I probably shouldn’t. Suffering from a little bit of a lisp, I would sometimes ask grandpa how to pronounce a certain word properly. Ironically, the toughest word of all for me to pronounce back then was my very own name, Lisa! These selective pronunciation difficulties certainly made me more conscience of language and the new words that I was learning.

As a creative writer, I think that my greatest period of accomplishment and inspiration came for me while I was taking a sixth-grade creative writing and typing computer lab. I was able to write stories from all sorts of genres- memoir, mystery, and historical thriller were just a few. One of my sources of inspiration was my classmate and writing “muse”, Kate. We always read each other’s work and offered constructive feedback, and by the spring we were collaborating on some very intense stories together! While I created some treasured books on my own, we partnered on several more writing projects, including plays, even through our junior year of high school.

If by the end of this course I am as motivated a writer as I was back in that sixth-grade computer lab, I will know that I have reconnected to my inner voice and my inspiration. I look forward to the possibilites…

Sincerely,

Lisa Goodman

The Electronic Age is Over.. -Rated

I know more of this world as I sit on the lake

than walking past the new tickers in Times Square, the Big City

Feel more connected than ever could be,

here on this porch swing

Than at the epicenter of Wi & Fi,

our easy access pass to the electronic age

 

WIFI? Why?

Why not toss it in the lake, lay down and look up at the sky?

 

Irony in how these small epiphanies are shared with folks today.

Are you the wide-eyed recipient of my message in a bottle,

or stationary stamp affixed and sent by post?

Or, have I (you) powered up?

Opened the browser..

A gazillion things whirring past, flowing in the ether

Click.

I hit publish (you hit view)

And here we are (but WHERE is that?)

Shared.

 

Like lightning ripping through the fabric of skies around the planet,

illuminating hearts and minds from inner city to seaside villages,

the same words seen by a million eyes..

Inspire change, a smile, perhaps a glimmer of hope,

or forgotten with the next click, the next touch of the screen.

 

We are but specks of dust, infinitely riding the waves of possibility. 

Finger Lakes- Garden in the rain

The Tapeworms for Supper: Cast of Characters & The Invitation

The Tapeworms for Supper

Written by: Lisa Goodman

Illustrations: In the works!!!

 

The Tapeworms for Supper is a chapter book which I first wrote back in 2009-2010 while taking a workshop in NYC with instructor Marissa Walsh. There are many chapters written, but as I had found something lacking on the first go-a-round, I had put this story aside while working on other projects. I have decided to revisit The Tapeworms and will be releasing the chapters as they are revised. Hope you all enjoy! 

 

Cast of Characters

The Hosts:

Mrs. Hungry

Mister Hungry

Jenn Hungry, age 9

Grandpa Irwin

and their dog, Snifflers.

 

The Guests:

Mister Tapeworm

Mrs. Tapeworm

Uncle Phil

And last, but not least, little Teddy Tapeworm, age 8.

 

The Invitation

There are two things that you should know about tapeworms- they have two teeth and RAVENOUS appetites.  We’ll address their teeth at a later time…Since an invitation has just arrived at the home of tiny Teddy Tapeworm, let’s be off to his house and take a lookie…

They heard a knock at the door, and with a slight whoosh, something slid underneath and into the foyer. Teddy picked it up and handed the scroll with the sparkling gold ribbon over to his mom.

It was the most beautiful invitation that the Tapeworm family had ever seen! In fact, it was the ONLY invitation that they had seen in a while. Teddy and his father looked on in disbelief as mother Tapeworm read aloud:

To Theodore Sr. and Trixie Tapeworm- You two and your family are cordially invited to our home for a supper party to celebrate our dear Grandpa Irwin turning 102. The party is tonight- bring your top hats and dancing shoes!

Yours Truly, Zoey and Ralph Hungry

Father Tapeworm’s eyes were now wide and sparkling with excitement. “Well Trixie, I’ll be darned; a supper party is music to my ears! Am I dreaming?”, he asked. “I must be.”

The three of them pinched themselves in unison to double-check if they could indeed be dreaming. Teddy pinched his nose, while his parents each grabbed that dangly piece of skin that covers a worm’s elbow. “Ouch!” “Ooooch!” “Yeeek!” they shouted as they discovered they were wide awake.

“Honey, we haven’t much time to get ready for tonight’s big event. Go grab your top hat and I’m going to ring the Hungrys.”, Mrs. Tapeworm told her husband as she pranced out of the room.

Teddy winced as his mom picked up the telephone to RSVP yes.

“Oh no.” said he. “I must think up a plan so my family doesn’t turn this supper on its nose!”

The Hungrys didn’t know about his family’s horrible, oh terrible, oh ghastly secret! But if Teddy doesn’t think up something quick, they were about to find out.