poetry: when words fail

Even the loftiest of prose can hit a brick wall in pursuit of lyrical expression. Thankfully, there is music. Poetry falls somewhere between the two — verse put to song without accompaniment, played on a backdrop of less. Robert Browning once said, “God is the perfect poet.” I like to think of a poem as a jolt to my senses, like a sailor’s sunrise or burning sunset to an otherwise noise-filled day.

Below is a growing archive of selected poems written over the years, when words failed me otherwise.


bird wing

Arranged by date.


This Road Whereupon We Agree

Keeping Time

No Diamonds of Dull Worth

These, Our Hands

When the Moon Hangs Low

When Seeds Split Open

Summer Bids Adieu

Sin’s Flower


All My Longings Lie Open

A Poem to My Seventeen-Year-Old Son

Walking Under the Weight

In the Name of Hope and Other Living Things


Cast but a Glance

Olive Branch

Sacred Places: Being