Dandelions

August 3, 2018 ~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 6 Comments

This poem by Sarah Russell spoke to me. She made every word count. I believe you will find it a keeper.

Just like the dandelion, each of us has the power to define who we are regardless of the labels that others may try to stick on us.

Sarah Russell Poetry

“A weed is a flower growing in the wrong place.”
George Washington Carver

Spike-haired, brass-blonde,
they invade the bluegrass suburbs
where blades form a passive sameness
if tended as intended. They strut
across the green of everyday —
strumpets in tattered leafy skirts,
stiletto roots — bestowing downy favors
on the summer breeze.

– Sarah Russell
First published in Your Daily Poem
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unpuzzling the enemy

July 31, 2018July 31, 2018 ~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 10 Comments

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hate screams black in fear, with intent
to turn listener to stone or distraction

what you think is the opposition
dressed in defenses worn comfortably

is only, just another
scared, eyes-wide and searching

no different than the face in
your bathroom mirror each morning

Quadrille #61 – dVerse Poets Pub

Not for purchase

July 23, 2018August 4, 2018 ~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 19 Comments

Your judgmental gaze cannot melt
the lines of my mistakes, they have become
collective beauty I hold as my reward for living
unimaginable shapes to fill with crayoned hues
I am my own coloring book
not available for purchase

The Gift of Chaos

Quote ~ July 21, 2018 ~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 11 Comments

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With all that is currently happening in the U.S. and the world, I feel the need to reshare this poem, Visiting With Chaos.There is an opportunity in the messiness of life. Will we choose to be loving learners or give up to fear?

Thank you to Vita Brevis, The Modern Poetry Magazine for publishing my poem. Click on the link to read it. – Visiting With Chaos

Sending love and a reminder that you are not alone.

Ali

Option – a thing that is or may be chosen

July 15, 2018July 21, 2018 ~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 28 Comments

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What if you believed it would all work out?

Would your breath come with ease
would you giggle at yourself, delight in the breeze
raise your waving hand, yell out “me too,”
with the aliveness of your five year old self?

Would you skip across the parking lot
dressed in sequins, colors that say, “I have arrived.”
Would you walk long enough to greet the dusk
stepping lightly until it kissed the sky goodnight?

What if you did?