Poetry helps me express love into the world. I write poems, read them and share them generously with friends and neighbors. 

Here is a collection of some of my favorite poems. They inspire me, move me and help me pause and reflect.

I hope they do the same for you.  And if you have great poem to share, send it my way.

Bless this journey
by Peleg Top

I look ahead and see no destination
I look behind and see thousands of questions
I look down and hear my heart melting
I look forward and take a deep breath

The next step could be the one
that drowns me
that drops me into my abyss

The next step could be the one
that leads me into my unknown
my bliss
my glee
my truth

are no longer in charge

I bless this journey
with moments of delights
where time disappears
and truth emerges

I bless this journey
with new insights
that steer me
to the place
where I regain
my power, my spirit, my joy.

Beyond borders

By Rick Hoyt

Go forth
Because we are always going forth from somewhere

Going from our homes
Going from our childhoods and younger selves
Going from our cities and states and countries
Going from innocence to experience to enlightenment

Finding borders
Testing borders
Crossing borders.

Go forth
into the night
Because we are always going into some night,

Going into mystery
Going into questions
Going into the desert
Getting to the other side.

Go forth,
Eagerly or reluctantly
Leaving behind the comfort and joy and community and
familiarity of one place
Go forth, into the anxiety and sadness and loneliness and
strangeness of some other place.

Carry with you the love and laugther of this place
And let it light your spirit and your life and your way
as you make your journey.
Carry with you the wisdom you learned and the good memories of this place
And may they give you strength for your journey.

And when you have been away long enough,
far enough,
Done what you set off to do
Been there so long that
That place too, starts to feel like home.

Come back.
Come back.
Come back to the one, universal,
Everywhere and every when and everyone inclusive home,
This beloved community of all creation
That you cannot ever really leave.

Come to the edge

by Guillaume Apollinaire 

come to the edge
we said

and they said
no, it's too high

Come to the edge
we said
and they said
no, we will fall

Come to the edge
we said
and they
very reluctantly

and we pushed
and they flew

Walking alone
By Colleen Wainwright 

There are things
that you alone
must do
and that you must do
regardless of how the rest
of the world
is humming along

in the middle of commotion
while the world is asleep
when life is comfortable
when the fleeing looks good

You may be wistful
or anguished
going to bed
while the party rages

You may be odd man up late
tending to your baby ideas
on long, cold nights
before they hatch

But how much worse
will you feel
when the thing in your heart
lies buried
under a thousand perfectly good reasons
why you couldn’t help it now.

No time is right
No time is wrong
Each minute, each hour, each day
extends itself wordlessly
for you to do with it
what you will.

will you do?

will we do
if you don’t?

The life you write for yourself
is yours alone
but the lives you touch
are everywhere,
on into eternity.


Rick Hoyt 

Thank God for home
The homes we leave
The homes we create
The homes where we never felt welcome
The homes we found for ourselves

The homes that teach us the basics of community
The lessons of what doesn’t work and what does|
The homes that accept us as we are
And the homes that made us what we are.

The home where we come at the end of the day
The home that sends us on our way

The home of just myself
Or myself and the cat
Or the home I share with one special person
Or the home full of family
Or the home full of friends

The home base from which we launch our lives
The homecoming where we return when our 
lives have become too much.

The front door
The couch
The kitchen counter
The bed

Thank God for the homes we’re given
And thank yourself, for the home you’ve made.


By Matt Steel

The wheel turns
and the page scrolls,
A maelstrom to drown in,
a wealth
of knowledge not worth knowing.

This pen, oak table,
thoughts of my own;
you can’t have them.
They will remain
untweeted, wrinkled,
herringboned, cloistered

in the back of my wardrobe –
kit and tackle
for unscripted vanishings,
private expeditions,
the long darkness
after the last bulb burns out.