Light does not fall on us equally. There are hours of gentle illumination, while some remain in shadow. Random flashes which leave you for no reason at the front of the line. Or the end, randomly burned, scorched, with head shaking disbelief. Tranquil dusk light on leaves. Other days blinded into paralysis, unable to see a way forward. I remain in a thundercloud waiting room, counting shadows like minutes. Weatherizing my soul before the next hurricane. Steadfast, determined in my stance, for a return of the glow In stillness it will find me. Sun’s warm hand on my back again. This too shall pass Ali Grimshaw 2017 Weather Forecast was first published on Vita Brevis Vita Brevis Press is a bestselling small publisher dedicated to emerging and established poets, circulating their work in an online magazine and in physical anthologies.
In the fog of conflict blinded numbness we look to the leaders to steer, peel back disagreement from the windshield. We wait with held breath for a directive to follow while voices clash, a radio screech between stations unwilling to tune in to clarity. We hope for a brilliant leader to put on a pedestal of responsibility, like the GPS we depend on to find our way the one who will hold the key to making it all go away. Let's reach into our own pockets. What if the driver we seek is us? Not singular but each, all together. The many unified. © Ali Grimshaw 2020 Let’s give thanks for poll workers, Stacey Abrams, fact-checkers — and the weather Thank you to every single person who helped to provide others with the opportunity to vote in our recent election. Together we can, yes we can, keep democracy alive. Thank you Joe Biden. dVerse Open Link Night - Join in the reading and sharing of poetry with a welcoming community.
A big thank you to Susi Bocks for sharing my voice on, “The Short of It.” I invite you to visit her site, iwriteher.com, for a reading of my short poems including this one. Thank you to all the readers that keep poetry alive.
Thunderstorm Conversations Lean into the loud hold curiosity’s hand consider this thundering consider it may not mean what you thought. This crack clashing boom only an illusion of danger. Maybe it isn’t a disastrous end but a calling of resounding strength a breaking through from your ancestors reverberating out across the sky, “We are with you.” Ali Grimshaw 2020
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Somedays we may need to return to the nest lined with words of hope, blanketed by belief in our ability to fly again. Somedays we may need to hold ourselves leaning into curved sides of this small structure built by someone who loved us. © Ali Grimshaw 2020 dVerse Poet's Pub - Quadrille #113: Blanket Us
Which way out? Down is upside down up is not what it used to be Which way to the familiar where the predictable seemed to be real? Which way to rise above the untaught history which left us blind? Which way forward to undo, redo, or never do again what once we did? What we weren't ready for or maybe never are, let's help each other rise let us begin again. © Ali Grimshaw 2020
Writing together provides a mirror for us to process life in a safe place where we have all agreed to listen with compassion. Thank you to all of you who have written with me in the last few months. I am so very grateful to share this journey with you. I have added this new date and time to open up the invitation to others in different time zones. Let’s connect across the boarders. Stay safe my friends.
We are balancing between the blocks of our days large and small. Squares filled with the demands of our days and squares now left open. Boxes where plans once sat in happy company with future anticipation. Now canceled without pattern. Just scattered openings in the grid. Emptiness at first look, then disbelief. As we walk farther down the street, grief standing next to disappointment. Finally we turn the corner and see a tiny new patio garden. Someone is intent on growing beauty from strong willed, concrete pots. The first sprouts are just reaching free.
Determined seeds rise
there is always a crack, wide
enough for thriving
This Haibun Monday over at dVerse Poets Pub we have a visual prompt. It was an new adventure for me. Click here to join the challenge.
As the virus careens, spinning down our long road. The dust has yet to settle from the wheels Slow motion, particles falling, We sift sillily through, glittered remembering. Was that last week? As I am here, reaching you are there, still only through airwaves. © Alicia Grimshaw 2020
A beautiful poem of hope from MISTYROADS
And so we grow,
In winds bent back
Against the storms
And lightning strikes.
And well-lit grace
Of Swift footsteps
That forever change
In those brief sorrows
Of untrained reach
And growth in silent tears;
That dry in hope
And sunlight given.
Copyright ©RMC May 2020
Click here for more from MistyRoads Blog
The rope winds gently around my waist,
twisted, smoothly strong by years of mistakes,
trying again, doubt and wondering how.
Thick with memories of others who
believed with the strength of solid ground.
Believed that all earthquakes eventually stop shaking.
Believed in soil’s ability to grow what we need next.
The end of this rope was handed to me long ago.
A generous lifeline offered for free
to keep me on the planet.
Now I look down at the rope in my calloused hands,
threads of the millions, an explosion of frayed ends,
their forgivings, endurance,
the woven learnings of my ancestors.
The rope loops back and around me,
over and over,
then off into the distance.
I don’t need to see the end now
to trust it is anchored deeply somehow.
© Ali Grimshaw 2020
Inspired by William Stafford’s poem “The Way It Is”
Photo taken in on my last trip, Château de Suscinio in France.