Poems by Tenneson Woolf

A small selection of what has become an essential medium for my learning, my expression, my artistry, and my invitations. It’s what I infuse to my work of facilitation and working with groups.

These go along with my two publications of poetry, Most Mornings (CentreSpoke 2022), and A Cadence of Despair: Poems and Reflections on Heartbreak, Loss and Renewal (CentreSpoke 2020).

I also often use poems by others. For the same purposes — to inspire, to bring depth and play. I haven’t curated these, but if you use the Search Feature on this site, you can find many that have moved me.

What Now?
Levels of Joy
Integrate the Remnants
(2021) — A collage published in The Journal of Creative Aging (p 30), with extra thanks to friend and colleague Katharine Weinmann.

Belonging is Biological (2020) — A few musings prosed to the irrepressibleness of belonging.

A Poem of Appreciation (2020) — I had recently returned from a trip to see my daughter and son in law, and was feeling grateful for connection.

Toward Pheasant Brook (2020) — It was one of those days when I really appreciated some unquarantined time.

Each Day: A Poem of Witness (2020) — Some sense making, and grief that comes with CoVid times.

Goodbye Son (2017) — A poem I wrote earlier this year, from a tender moment of saying goodbye.

Time and Time Again (2017). I have an ongoing relationship with time. I love the buzz of being able to be quick. I also am deeply troubled by it when speed and efficiency is all that there is, or all that we expect together. I wrote this poem one morning trying to shake things up.

I Want to Hear Our Voices (2014) — I wrote this one morning as I woke from a dream. It is a yearning that I hear in many men and in men’s work that comes from a place beneath the calcified surface.

The Bonneville Shoreline (2010) — This poem came from a hike I took near where I live. It was late evening. The sun was setting. I was looking over the valley that once would have been the Bonneville Sea, yet now is the urban area in which I live. I was reflecting on how things change.