City Dweller – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

“You are comprised of 84 minerals, 23 Elements, and 8 gallons of water spread across 38 trillion cells. You have been built up from nothing by the spare parts of the Earth you have consumed, according to a set of instructions hidden in a double helix and small enough to be carried by a sperm. You are recycled butterflies, plants, rocks, streams, firewood, wolf fur, and shark teeth, broken down to their smallest parts and rebuilt into our planet’s most complex living thing.

You are not living on Earth. You are Earth.”

— Aubrey Marcus

My heart has felt the isolation of cold times
walls that didn't allow visitors to enter.

if I had grown up in the forest 
sung to by the wind in the trees
watched the birds flit, feed and gather in song

if I had slept by the rushing river
soothed by it magical movement
of freedom to flow over and between 

if I had foraged with the bears
following their lead to thread through
undergrowth to find my fill

would I have ever met loneliness?

Does separation exist for forest dwellers 
moss to mouse
tree to tribe
river to racoon
webbed connections none to separate?

© Ali Grimshaw 2022

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Intention – Poem by Ali Grimshaw


she wished to glue
leaves of color back onto the limbs
unprepared for this season's shift

then frozen morning winds carried 
a new consideration her way

could a breathe of chill be welcomed
like an unexpected guest
a dabbled hope through dark days?

she tries this thought on, not her usual 
fashion, seeks to understand it's fittings

then opens her dormant suitcase  
to laughter spilling out like sunshine
a reminder of past orbits around the sun

she has another day
of changing sky

and many clouds to capture

© Ali Grimshaw 2022

Moonwashed Musings – Dappled

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Living the Questions – By Ali Grimshaw

"If you are faithful to living a question, 
that question will be faithful back to you." 
- Krista Tippett

Living the Questions

Which room do you lie down in most?
The one with a sky blue ceiling of hopefulness
or the backroom with walls of yesterday's old news.

Where do you sit to nourish yourself?
In the peach room of newness 
with windows open to birdsong breezes
or the room of sterile white protection from the outside.

What questions are you feeding yourself
along with your morning tea?

Who will you trust to welcome in
to keep you company 
when you choose to remodel
your next room?

© Alicia Grimshaw 2022

If you only could choose one question
to live into for the next week what would it be?

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Back Then – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

This poem is in response to the Pandemic Haibun Challenge that’s currently underway in the publication, A Cornered Gurl via Medium.  Thank you trE for the opportunity for shared reflection.

Noticings are always within reach if your eyes are open. A friend’s phone call, text photo, or cherished smile from six feet away can keep your cup from emptiness. Yet eventually days bleed into one another, months lose their borders, leaving Mondays indistinguishable. Where weeks fall like dominoes. Small routines within repeated walls lead to smaller and smaller thinking. Loneliness swallows you into the basket of its belly. Where over time depression feeds itself with handfuls of separation. It blindfolds your eyes so slowly you that you forget that sight has been lost. You stop moving, reaching out your arms. Until one morning’s shock of sunlight reminds you there is a world beyond this box called myself.

love went missing in

a forced experiment of

awakening us

© Alicia Grimshaw 2022

Without reflection there is no opportunity to learn. 
What have you learned from the pandemic experience?


Black and White Beauty – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

“Art happens all the time, everywhere. All we have to do is to keep our minds open.“

—  Jacek Tylicki American artist

royal beauty of white
black touches highlight your grace
mother of many

dream discovery
found through five-year-old eyes, gleam
matching my surprise

© Alicia Grimshaw 2022

A double Haiku, (I don't think there is such a thing but poets get to break rules) to honor this magnificent moth I saw recently in Louisiana. I always say, "Mother Nature is my favorite artist."

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Time Zones – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

I am honored to have my poem, Time Zones, published today on MASTICADORESUSA . Thank you to to Editor Gabriela Marie Milton for sharing my words with her readers. 

I run from myself
catch a corner of feeling
accept this moment of liberation

You can read the rest of the poem HERE

Fall Will Catch You – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

Painted leaves sing in unison.
Unlike music, their song
is soundless harmony.

This orchestra of glow
soothes the tempo
of an internal pounding

from a day of instruments
that refused to play
the same song.

Fall will catch you
with muted volume
a serenade of equilibrium

while watercolored leaves 
hold you in a nest of rest.

© Alicia Grimshaw (rewrite of 2018 poem)

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HERE

Circling Back – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

"I know things. I've seen things.
I don't know what you're going through, though. 
I've held troubles, but they weren't shaped like yours. 
I've lost, but none of my missing pieces would have filled your gaps.
I know some things, not all things."

from a poem called, the knowing by Ra Avis

Circling back

coming round 
sliding through 
this Autumn arc

I greet myself
a younger version 
of complex cells

she is just a beginning 
a growing lightness
wrapped in doubt

© Ali Grimshaw 2022

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Alone
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Photo of God's Thumb Hike, Oregon Coast
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Appearances – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

the eyes we look through
when seeking 
change what we see

too far gone or brilliant beautiful ending?

cracking open to bravely begin or losing one's mind?

leaning
as weakness, failure to stand upright 
hold one's own
or leaning
as the wisdom of resting 
gathering grace to begin again?

where you sit 
doesn't always enable you to see
sunrise or the full length of horizon

question the truth of your view
question the view of your truth

© Ali Grimshaw 2022

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Feeling Punchy – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

bring on lime laced
mango merry
tangerine power-punch
lemon-chiffon nectar to top it off

let's get sloshed on boughs 
and falling flavors from 
heavenly highlights above our heads

we can pretend to be gods
drinking in sunshine soaked crimson

latenight cavorting 
without morning consequences

© Ali Grimshaw 2022

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for Quadrille #160 HERE