
turning the page tilts my story's full, first half daybreak spills, spreading past pages highlighted scribbled, dog-eared moldable mornings of my middle life a return route mapped for when memory fades my shadow lengthens I am far past sunrise now imagination holds the pen ©Ali Grimshaw 2022 Join a welcoming community of poets at dVerse for Quadrille #158 Morning Has Broken -HERE
Beautiful Ali. I particularly love moldable mornings of my middle life.
Mary x
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Thanks, Mary. I appreciate hearing the words that spoke to you.
Have a great day.
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Mesmerizing
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Thank you so much. Wishing you a wonderful day.
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U too
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BRAVO!
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Thank you!
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You’re welcome.
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Imagination holding the pen… yes that is what a poet needs… love it.
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Thanks, Bjorn. Your poetry is imaginative and that is what keeps me returning to your blog over time.
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Love that! And who better to hold the pen, right, Ali? ❤ 😀
~David
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Thanks, Ben. I want to let imagination hold the pen more often. Maybe less thinking about how to and more playing in general?
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I especially love this line Ali: ‘a return route mapped for when memory fades.’
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Thank you for reflecting back those lines that spoke to you. I always appreciate hearing that from others.
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You’re welcome!
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“now imagination holds
the pen ”
Lovely write. 🙂
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Thank you for shining a light on the words that most spoke to you. I appreciate hearing them.
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Loved moldable mornings.
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Thank you for sharing what most spoke to you
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The urge to get up and get writing. I miss that.
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What have you done in the past to beckon your muse?
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Nothing. I’ve written for the last ten years with breaks for child rearing, but I stopped writing anything new over a year ago (except for poetry) because I have too many finished novels that I don’t know what to do with.
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Morning on a page, Ali, is what I have returned to, and I’m so glad! Great use of enjambment in the opening lines, and I love the image of ‘scribbled, dog-eared / moldable mornings’ with ‘a return route mapped / for when memory fades’. I suppose that is what our poems are.
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Kim, I appreciate hearing the words that most spoke to you. I think of my blog has a scrapbook of sorts. Each poem marks a time, a place a memory.☮️
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Oh Ali, I just love this, I’m living it now, last lines. I can’t remember names, people or places. That’s when I want to tell or to know myself. Those names come to me when I’m not needed to know or to tell. We are about to downsize and move where we will have a bit of care. I can still drive and don’t get lost, Mrs. Jim got lost one day, just once. I was told she did, she doesn’t talk about that with me. But she seldom drives anymore. Today she has a hair appointment in the little town next, just a few miles away. I think she’ll be okay.
We are old and live on the edge of a big city, old is old, 88 now.
..
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Jim,
Thank you for letting me know that my words resonated for you. It sounds like you’re doing the best you can to design a life that works for you and Mrs. Wishing you a beautiful day
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That’s a lovely write, Ali.
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Thank you so much for your kind response.☮️
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You’re most welcome. 😊
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Lovely poem.
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Thank you kindly. Wishing you a beautiful day.
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I sense a presence and confidence in the end which is often a gift in the “middle life”! ❤️❤️❤️
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Tricia,
I sincerely hope I am in my middle life although there are not guarantees. I plan to let my imagination hold the pen more often.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
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True, we never know, but we have now and that’s enough! 💓
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Yes. It is enough.
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