poetry | Your Delray Boca

I can feel a love of poetry developing.
Another late life love proving that you can grow, evolve, learn and enjoy new things at any age.

Prior to this recent development, I never really appreciated, understood or enjoyed poetry.
But I’ve always loved song lyrics. I think the best lyrics are poetry.
Springsteen is a poet.

So is Dylan.

I thought John Lennon’s lyrics were magical—”In My Life”, “Norwegian Wood” and “Strawberry Fields” transport me and millions of others to a special place of joy.

Over the weekend, we saw a production of “Both Sides Now” at the Delray Beach Playhouse. It was incredible. Truly special. The show celebrates the words and music of Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen.

When put to music, their poetry elicited tears from the audience. Only art, only poetry, can do that.

Still, conventional poetry? It’s never been my thing.
That’s beginning to change.

In the past year or so I discovered Mark Nepo, rediscovered Robert Frost and found myself seeking out poetry during particularly tough or joyful moments.
Some poems land. Some poems don’t but I find if you make an effort the poem will meet you half way.

My friend Andrea is a poet.

She has been kind enough to send me her work which is touching, funny and very relatable.
She’s involved in a group called “Poets on the Fringe” which has open mic nights at a coffeehouse in Boca. Many of the poets also share their work at Delray’s wonderful Arts Garage.

Inspired by my friend, I’ve written a few poems and one even got published last year in a poetry anthology called “Alone Together.” Seeing my poem “Sit Spot” in a book was a thrill. But I haven’t yet found the courage to stand up in public and share. I will someday—maybe. I’m not quite ready.

Recently, my friend sent me a video of her reciting her poetry at an open mic night. I was struck by the joy on her face. It made my day. I’d like to experience that feeling. So someday. Maybe.

The same friend helped me discover the work of Andrea Gibson, an amazing poet who died tragically at age 49 in 2025.

I loved reading Gibson’s poetry and I highly encourage you to seek it out. Her story is a sad one, but she did leave an amazing body of work.
I found a newsletter Gibson wrote shortly before dying. It was basically a list of things she loved.
Gibson introduced the list with a great piece of advice: “the world is heavy right now, friends. Spend some time every day reminding yourself why the world is worth saving.”
Indeed it is.

Be thankful for the people who introduce you to the poetry of life. Those brave and generous enough to share it too.

Good Bones, the book.

Good Bones

By Maggie Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.

Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine

in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,

a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways

I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least

fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative

estimate, though I keep this from my children.

For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.

For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,

sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world

is at least half terrible, and for every kind

stranger, there is one who would break you,

though I keep this from my children. I am trying

to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,

walking you through a real s#&*@hole, chirps on

about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

right? You could make this place beautiful.

I discovered this poem last week while listening to a podcast interview with writer/poet Maggie Smith.

As usual, I’m late to the party. “Good Bones” became a viral sensation in 2017. Somehow, I missed it.

But now that I’ve found it, I find myself going back to the poem and reading it again and again.

Good writing impacts us in a special way, if we slow down and take the time to read, absorb, and think.

I’m not a big fan of poetry, although I love song lyrics and consider the best songwriters to be poets.

Still, I love words, and good writing has a way of helping me make sense of the world. As someone who writes—a lot—I long for the times that I can get into what they call “flow” state.

Flow isn’t something you can summon; it just happens—rarely for me — but it’s a real thing. In between flow states you rely on craft, the muscles you’ve developed by writing for years and years.

I’m in awe of great writers because I know how hard it is to write at a level that moves hearts and minds. I am not a great writer, but I aspire to be. And I write in the hope that someday I will experience—even for a moment– what it must feel like to write like Maggie Smith or Maya Angelou or my new writing crush Chisa Hutchinson.

The Good Bones touched me because I’m distressed by the state of our union and our world. Division is no bueno. No good ever comes from hatred, recrimination and callousness.

The Good Bones reminds us of what sustains us amidst the chaos and horror and relentless crazy of this time.

Here’s a list:

Connection and friendship.

Moments of respite when we can recharge and renew.

Creativity, kindness, kinship and care.

Beauty, generosity, excellence and meaning.

It also reminds us that we have a role to play. We are not just passive actors that allow things to happen to us, we are people who have the power to shape our destinies and determine our destination. We are called to bring beauty into this world.

“This place could be beautiful,

right? You could make this place beautiful.”

Indeed, we can.

Last week, my colleagues and I spent some time with the CEO of a nonprofit called FLIPANY.

Flipany provides nutritious food to thousands of people in South Florida every day. They serve 130 plus sites over a vast region with lots of needs. It’s a logistical miracle pulled off every day.

I find beauty in that story of grit and determination. The founder started with one site serving 40 children and grew the organization into a trusted partner for schools, camps, churches, community centers, senior citizen facilities etc.

She’s tough as nails. Resourceful too. But there’s a beauty to her work, she brings love and sustenance into the world.

I was glad she made the trip from Dania Beach to Delray Beach to spend some time….

So why is it important to seek out beauty.? Why should we remember “good bones” and seek to understand what it means?

Maybe, it’s too remind us who we’ve been; to remind us that those good bones are still somewhere in our DNA. So, we are reminded of what beauty and goodness look like, so that when it shows up in our world, we can see it.

We have good bones in America. We have good bones in this community. We should strive not to break those bones. We should strive to make this world beautiful.

Poetry…

Good Bones