Facebook Group Poems

In 2017, I began a collaborative poem-writing event that quickly became an annual tradition, with the occasional bonus project along the way. Each year, I announce a theme and invite people to contribute a short phrase inspired by it. After a couple of weeks, I gather all the responses and weave them into a single group poem. I change very little—only what’s needed for flow.

Here are our poems to date:

CALM
9th Annual Facebook Group Poem – 2025
By Elayne Eskenazi, Jo Snyder, Marcia Gallineaux-Hubert, Tina Jaspersen, Lorri Leonards, Jamie Banfield, Chanel Welch, Laura McCormick, Heather Warner, Roberta Garrison Fischer, Edwin K. Morris, Leslie Kurt Boxhorn, and Anna Eskenazi Bush.

Calm arrives like a change of view—
what was once an annoyance,
a little brother
becomes a friend.
There is a calmness
standing in the storm,
the still point
amid the swirl of life.
Elusive calm knows the secret hiding places,
a game of hide and seek.
Breathe in—experience peace that leads to calm.
Release the expectation of perfect tranquility.
Instead, practice resilience,
the grace of alignment—
heart with mind,
body with soul.
Calm feels safe, loving, hopeful—
a warm indigo vibration streaming across the body,
a stillness within amplified by spirit.
A cool breeze kisses the skin,
the warmth of the sun embraces the soul—
a calm for the restless spirit.
Pacific blue.
Autumn hues.
Crisp, cool air breathed deep,
tight muscles softening.
Calm is slipping into the hush of the forest edge
at Marilla Reservoir,
where water glass-mirrors the sky
and a heron glides overhead.
It is the steady hush of wind in the pines,
the quiet presence of a horse beside you,
the steadfastness of God in your life.
Calm is the sound of waves breaking against the shore,
the silence in your mind,
the slow, steady beat of your heart.
Here, calm arrives.
Here, calm abides.

Bonus Group Poem – March 2025

By Marcia Gallineaux-Hubert, Barbara Laxon, Donnia Anastasia, Leslie Kurt Boxhorn, and Anna Eskenazi Bush

Joy and grief co-exist.
Gain balance with yin and yang.
It’s time to rethink the impossible and know
anything manmade can be unmade.

The world is a beautiful place
and it has gone mad.
As we enter The Age of Aquarius,
let’s bring forth love and light!
Out of the darkness we remember and see—
we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

In darkness, cats playing make us laugh out loud.
Little people forget their authenticity for approval,
and we hope they remember and feel
they are the bright light of change.

Joy—bathing in the soothing warmth of a woodstove.
Concern—escaping blistering summer heat that brings no joy.
Every day there is some discomfort
and a spark of joy.

Waking up, grateful for another day
and having a horrible headache.
The sun reflects warmth off the cold snow.
Mental and physical fatigue weigh me down.
And others are being my energy for me.

We see you, sister moon and ancient stars.
And we know—
in the beautiful darkness of the night sky
there are often patches of light
awaiting sunrise.

Facebook 8th Annual Group Poem – 2024

Having a Heart that is Open
By Elayne Meyerowitz Eskenazi, Leslie Kurt Boxhorn, Greg Back, Colleen McGrath, Tammy Thorsby Querns, Lorri Leonards, Marcia Gallineaux-Hubert, Heather Warner, Jessica Kordsmeier, Edwin K. Morris, Kate Hogan, Hal Eskenazi, Albert Fabrizio, Jessie Lampack Slattery, Jamie Banfield, Estelle Eskenazi Fein, David Behrstock, and Anna Eskenazi Bush

Open hearts with open minds can change the world.
One small ripple of kindness can change the whole world.
Opening our hearts will open our minds and souls.
Feeling is the embodiment of the soul.
With our minds, we decide.
With our hearts and souls, we act.

When we are kind to each other,
anything and everything is possible.
Having a heart that is open opens others’ hearts.
Connecting heart to heart.
Allowing love to flow in and through us.
Spreading joy all around.
Making life happy.

The human journey may travel in complete darkness.
This world needs “open heart” surgery.
These incidental segments of light
pull us forward when we are weak.
The game is worth the candle
when we choose to walk the talk
and practice it in real time.

Let’s not give up on the people we love.
Love all, for we are all one.
My heart is full of joy, for life is grand and full of love.
Having a heart that is open allows us
to circle back around, again and again,
with love for those we love,
with an ability to let go
that exists beyond space and time.

Hearts open and close in a mysterious rhythm,
telling a story few understand.
When open, our hearts are open on all sides
so that we may let love shine in all directions.
May we all practice keeping hearts and minds
open.

Acceptance
7th Annual Facebook Group Poem – 2023
By Edwin K. Morris, Marcia Gallineaux-Hubert, Heather Warner, Linda Pettis, Kate Hogan, Brenda Snyder, Jamie Banfield, Melissa Misha, Charles L. Goehrig, Elayne Meyerowitz Eskenazi, Rob Mrowka, Db Busan, Reuben Eskenazi, Susan Cochran, Steven Winter, Amy H. Porter, Bu Gordon, Leslie Boxhorn, and Anna Eskenazi Bush

Acceptance—why not?
Why?
Why is it so hard to accept
that the person you are now
is not the person you were so long ago?
The old me doesn't really recognize the new me.
The new me has learned to let the old me be.
There is no greater power than the acceptance of one's self.

Some believe in G-d.
Some in nature, the divine, the universe.
Regardless, we all consider this idea of acceptance,
holding individual beliefs,
shaping our lives
in the context of those beliefs.

I accept the fact that I am flawed,
and still G-d leads me and uses me
to do that which I'm called.
Let go and let G-d.

What does that mean?
How do we get there?

Acceptance
is more than tolerance.
It is a quality of the soul.
It takes acknowledging one’s beauty, drive, and passion
and letting go of control and trusting.

Acceptance
is such a necessary step
in the path to reduce the suffering and anguish
of denial and rejection of what is.

Acceptance
is to be both given and received.
Must it be reciprocal?
“I will accept you, if you will accept me?”
What you gave me I did not expect.
What I offered, you did not accept.

Acceptance
is about taking in,
receiving and allowing
without judgment.

Acceptance
is being present.

Gratitude is everywhere,
no need to look too far.

Acceptance
is to be in the arms of love, kindness, and compassion,
like a mother with her child—
there is no judgment, just loving, safe arms.

Who accepts you as you are?
Do you accept you as you are?
Acceptance is not giving up
or giving in,
but being with what is—
just being
until there is change,
just being
in flow.

Do you accept impermanence?
Can you rejoice in it?
Do you accept?

The Human Soul Experienced
6th Annual Facebook Group Poem – 2022
By Corinne Potter, Elayne Meyerowitz Eskenazi, Tina Jaspersen, Leslie Kurt Boxhorn, Barbara Laxon, Reuben Eskenazi, Rob Mrowka, Steven Winter, Petula Griffith, Brenda Snyder, Marcia Gallineaux-Hubert, Edwin K. Morris, Eileen Donahue Brittain, Jamie Banfield, Stephanie Skandar, Jaie Deschene, Jessica Kordsmeier, Linda Pettis, Susan Cochran, Lorri Leonards, Joseph N. Joelene DeFranco, Allison Midgley, and Anna Eskenazi Bush

When you open your eyes to a new day,
what makes your soul awaken?

A warm beverage, sweet and light.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee.
A dog’s fur under your fingertips.
Waking in the morning next to your love.
Knowing you were gifted another day on earth.

Is there a coziness that fills your soul?

The closeness and warmth of winter.
The soul fed by candles and firelight.
Comforters and thick homemade soups.
Making beautiful things like music or jewelry.
Settling in with books or the written word.
Music, art in every form.
My soul is fed by pieces of others, known and unknown.
Comfort and security always wrestle with risk and curiosity.

What sounds fill your soul?

Music, the universal language.
The song that never leaves.
Birdsong in the cool morning air.
Ocean waves crashing upon the shore.
The ebb and flow of waves.
Sounds made by people.
“Fly Me to the Moon…”
Sounds made by nature.

The glory of nature.
The smell of the forest and the beauty of it all.
The desirous thought of dawning suns
sending warmth that chills the mind,
caressing the soul.

Is it the touch of another soul?

Love.
Loved ones.
Kind people who hear you and keep in touch.
The spirit of truth from people.
People truly caring about people.
Random acts of kindness.
Paying it forward.
Showing real love and compassion.
Being able to be your genuine self.

Walking together on this purposeful path
with positive, peaceful, like-minded people.
Humans and pets and places.
Artworks and ideas.
The trust and soulful participation of others
as you co-create a play, an experience, a poem.

The sight of children playing.
Laughter—the laugh of a child.
A child’s peal of laughter.
Listening to your daughter and her friends giggle uncontrollably.
The years put into the creation of another life.
The gentle hug from a loved one or fur baby.
Those hugs that last a little longer.
The hug for no reason.

Is it that co-creation? That synergy? That connection?

Creation—recreation, procreation.
The world blossoming with meditation gardens,
soil building and goat yoga,
bike sharing and community building,
pollinator conservation,
and all the new awareness and elements of renewal.

The human soul experienced
through the senses,
growing, expanding, connecting.

What feeds your soul?

Hope
5th Annual Facebook Group Poem – September 2021
By Lorri Leonards, Elayne Meyerowitz Eskenazi, Bonnie Harrison, Sabrina Fein, Rosanna Bonfilio, Kimberly Ellen, Marcia Gallineaux-Hubert, Donna Beckwith, Joseph N. Joelene DeFranco, Linda Pettis, Leslie Kurt Boxhorn, Bonnie Kennedy, Wendy Chapman, Chanel Welch, Brenda Snyder, Susan Cochran, Derek Hittle, and Anna Eskenazi Bush

How:
Standing alone, hope is just a word,
but when actions join hope, possibilities open.
Shout out to the future—we are strong enough
to take on what lies ahead.
Hold on to threads of light.
Open the window.
Let your hope and light outshine dark times—
go to the light.

One’s:
Where there is love, there is always hope.
Hope to hug you soon.
Hope floats,
rising and lifting us
like a glorious red balloon.

Patience:
Sometimes hope is all that’s left.
We hope for a better tomorrow.
Today, we rest and wait.
A glimmer of hope… hope against hope… the truest hope.

Endures:
Hope rhymes with cope.
It takes courage to have both.
When all hope is lost, look to yourself
and you will find the strength you need
to carry on.
We live in hope.
We grow in hope.
Hope is the springboard
of our souls’ spirit into life’s changes—
like a candle in the dark,
helping us see where we are going.

Connection
4th Annual Facebook Group Poem – 2020
Watch it on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yTp-O67jUMs
By Ina Springer, Bonnie Harrison, Leslie Kurt Boxhorn, Christopher L. Wall, Barbara Laxon, Charles L. Goehrig, Sherie Hamel-Wallace, Miki White, Marcia Gallineaux-Hubert, Bonnie Kennedy, Kari Follett, Kimberly Ellen, Lorri Leonards, Katie Lopez, Heather Warner, Barbara Dyskant, Susan Cochran, Steven Winter, Brenda Snyder, Linda Pettis, Kate Hogan, Edwin K. Morris, Rob Mrowka, Elayne Meyerowitz Eskenazi, Donna Beckwith, Corinne Potter, Reuben Eskenazi, Rosanna Bonfilio, Misty Richardson, and Anna Eskenazi Bush

Devoid of human connection,
individuals and society reduced
to Facebook on a Friday night—
yet community built around the digital fire
still provides connection with love and intent.

We open our hearts to each other.
Connections are recognized and remembered.
Connecting, racing hearts.
Zooming, Covid-style.
Family ties to electric currents.

Then a pause—
sometimes we must unplug.
Disconnecting is not always a bad thing.
We connect more deeply with ourselves
and remember our humanity.

Being alive—the connection we all share—
gives us direction.
Step up and love if you dare.
Soul to soul.
Reach out, reach out to me.
We recognize ourselves in each other upon reflection.

Rising above the divide of disconnection—
peace and unity,
solidly united,
make people feel loved,
unite on common ground.

Our souls yearn to be connected to others.
I see you; I hear you; I know you are there.
An invisible red thread connects our soul to another,
from my side of this sphere to yours
and every point in between.
All is one, everything is the universe expressing itself.

Practice bridging.
Bridging is listening,
holding sacred space for the soul of another.
You and me and all the rest—
seeing, hearing, knowing.

To connect deeply with our humanity,
open our hearts to the suffering of others.
Remember to be kind—to yourself as well.
Remember to connect our souls to action
so we all join hands and win the election.

Connection can start in our family
and spread to the human family.
Love, genuine love, holds us to one another.
Let us be heart to heart
and remember our connection.

It Is Our Nature to Nurture
3rd Annual Facebook Group Poem – 2019
By Anna Eskenazi Bush, Elayne Meyerowitz Eskenazi, Lorri Leonards, Miki White, Charles L. Goehrig, Joseph N. Joelene DeFranco, Db Busan, Brenda Snyder, Ronnie Schenkein, Marcia Gallineaux-Hubert, Renee Jobe, Jennifer Wolbert, Donna Beckwith, and Jillian Freeman Arrowood

It is our nature to nurture
through the seasons and colors and cycles of life—
from silent winter when the soul retreats
to the vibrant spring of rebirth and renewal;
from hot, humid summer days to cool fall nights,
with summer gifting us so many shades of green,
but not for long
before the beautiful colors of fall arrive,
along with thoughts of hot soup—
soup to nurture the body and soul.
Seasons and colors and cycles come and go,
and they will return.

It is our nature to nurture
and be nurtured by nature
in whichever way we enjoy it.
For some, it is nice seeing art from afar,
preferring the climate-controlled, insect-less indoors.
For others, up close and personal—
“I think that I shall never be as centered as when hugging a tree,”
or when seeing
mushrooms form a fairy ring around the tall cedar,
the autumn sun glitter like gold across the chilling lake,
the Monarch dancing across the bright pink zinnia.
Oh, wait… nature,
how she calms my soul.
Being in nature brings solitude and peace.

It is our nature to nurture,
and now is our time to hear.
Our earth is crying out for help—
“Save me, save me” before it is too late—
and to remember
there is no other as resilient, adaptive, powerful, and providing as our mother.
Mother Nature always wins,
bringing everything back to her true self.
She lets us play with her toys before taking them back.
It is in her nature to nurture herself,
and we are invited to participate
and be nurtured too—
when we play nicely.

Age in a Cage?
2nd Annual Facebook Group Poem – August 2018

Preface:

Age is like an old shoe,
a privilege denied to many,
the cost of gaining wisdom.
Though some grow old and some grow wise,
we all leave footprints.

The Cage:

There was a time where the future in the far distance was now.
Time is not on my side.
Age sucks.
Aging myself—trapped in memories.
Alive in the age of worry.
Female pattern baldness.
Baldness from the time we are babes
and sometimes baldness as we age.
Like the law of gravity,
the laws of aging are nothing to sneer at.
The age in my mind stays young—
the age in my bones—well, that’s another story.
My body is 59, but I am not.
How come those thighs are cute on a baby
and not so nice on me?

The Pause:

Nothing stays the same as time changes all.
Real age and chronological age are different things.
Age is just a number—in and of itself, meaningless.
The age of the host doesn't reflect the age of the soul.
It might suck to grow old, but it’s better than the alternative.
Age to age, G-d is still the same.
Regardless of age, the present is your present.
Growing old is mandatory, but growing up is optional.
Though the hair is grey and bones may creak,
in your maturity remember to practice the joy of immaturity.
The sweetness of our youth brings forth hope.

There Is No Cage:

Aging makes me more conscious of living fully in the present,
enjoying each person I’m with and each thing I do.
I adore growing old—a great gift, when handled wisely.
I’m still young—nothing has changed—and the sex is great.
Age brings forth grace, unlimited bounties,
and joy in the smallest miracles of everyday life,
gifts denied or ignored by many.
Worth the wait.

BONUS poem - needed to get silly because COVID was so serious:

Cope on a Rope Is Dope, Clean with Soap
COVID-19 Group Poem (Bonus)
By Elayne Meyerowitz Eskenazi, Jennifer Wolbert, Lorri Leonards, Kimberly Ellen, Corinne Potter, Marcia Gallineaux-Hubert, Bonnie Kennedy, and Anna Eskenazi Bush

Alexa, play ocean music.
I am calm. I AM calm. I AM CALM!
And if eating cake is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
Cake, no mistake—let’s partake.
Green clothes, green eggs, green grass to roll on.
Mother Earth sings joyfully.
How big is Biggedy Bobby Boo? No one new knew!
But he stuck like glue. MORE SOAP!
Punctuation is fun; spelling is my challenge.
Orange you glad I said “challinge”?
The wiggly worms tickled her, so she giggled.
From deep within her came a mighty laugh,
a laugh that had been building,
waiting, unstoppable,
until it exploded with every fiber of her being.

Cope, rope, dope, soap.
Biggedy Bobby Boo.
Eat some cake.
Hear a song.
Sing to the green grass.
We wiggle like worms and smile.

The Audacity of Autumn
1st Annual Facebook Group Poem – 2017
By Adriane Finkelstein, Rena Hellzinger, Danny Woodbridge, Estelle Eskenazi Fein, Donna Beckwith, Brenda Snyder, Albert Fabrizio, Marty Harrison, Meg Tack, Joy L. Ross, Marcia Gallineaux-Hubert, Jamie Banfield-Button, Jean Loucks, Misty Richardson, Mary Helen Forney, Linda “Aunt Faye” Pettis, Jillian Freeman Arrowood, Sherie Hamel-Wallace, Abby Harrison, Tammy Thorsby Querns, and Anna Eskenazi Bush

It is a bold time of year.
The leaves reflect their true color
and invite you to show yours.
Red and gold leaves are beautiful.
The morning air smells crisp and clean.
Spirits come to life and the geese fly home.
The leaves change with passing time.
The air produces a chilly breeze.
Dark colors have never been so beautiful,
more vibrant than anything I’ve ever seen.
I invite you to show yours.

Crisp air, crisp leaves, crisp apples
bring memories of years gone by—
the sound of fallen leaves crunching beneath my feet.
Sometimes when the leaves crinkle just right,
you can smell and taste them changing colors.
Pumpkins, corn, squash, and apples in autumn hues.
Apple cider and pumpkin pie warm the soul.
The taste of pumpkin and spice fills the air—
pumpkin spice is quite nice.

To each of us, one experience,
yet differently audacious.
One thinks, “I’ve stopped sweating,”
while another says, “Hot, hot, hot—sleep all afternoon.”

Morning fog in our valley signals cooler weather coming.
It is time for a soft landing from the idyllic summer season
into a bed of coppery leaves
in which we snuggle before the snow sets in.

For some, ushering in sadness, joy, or both.
Autumn—so beautiful but brief in its splendor.
Sadness comes as I don’t want it to leave
and come to barrenness.
Sadness comes when the warm summer air has left your skin,
but soon replaced by a feeling of warmth within your soul—
by the vivid colors of changing leaves,
by the heat from sitting by a fire with friends.

Watch
the last red leaf flutter in the gentle breeze—
and it is gone.
This last leaf on the tree
casts the last shadow
before rest.