My light is shining.

The world needs each of us to shine our light brightly. I hope that my poetry reflects the light in you.

The Auroras & Blossoms NaPoWriMo Anthology: 2020 Edition

I am honored to be one of the 38 contributors with two poems included in this inspirational anthology. It is currently available for a reduced price until its official publication date on June 23rd. Thank you to the founders and co-editors Cendrine Marrouat and David Ellis for their efforts to create this anthology.

The Auroras & Blossoms NaPoWriMo Anthology: 2020 Edition is now available for pre-order.

The River Knows – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

“I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.”
– John Muir

In slowing my pace to lightly step
I saw the power of the hummingbird
defeating the odds again
to fly, even though science says it shouldn’t be able.

I leaned on the elder tree that stood through hurricanes.
Touched sprouts forcing through cracked concrete.
Studied a cactus with magenta bloom
in the desperate dry landscape.

Outside I found my mentors.

Along singing creek waters, trails of bright birdsong
and pausing in cliffside meadows where the ocean roars.

I heard the strength of the outside.

The river knows where it is going
and I will follow it.

© Alicia Grimshaw 2020

photo by antilandscpaper 2-26-20

Hummingbirds have been baffling scientists for years. Matt Ransford commented, “The hummingbird is an animal that by all rights shouldn’t be able to fly” (Popular Science). But not only can this bird fly, it is the only bird able to fly forwards, backward, up, down, sideways, upside down, and even hover. – Mar 23, 2012

dVerse Open Link Night

Roaring – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

 

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earth cracking realization
shake and bake reformation
voice regained

shift and tumbled truths
revealed by backward binoculars
their sight once trusted for even footing

do not be surprised by my song
or the way I harness cumulonimbus clouds

I am no longer
that girl.

© Ali Grimshaw 2019

dVerse – Quadrille #94

Thank you Howard – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

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Without you, Howard

I may have forgotten

these ten fingers of mine

are printed like no other.

 

Like a tree with many sturdy limbs

who has forgotten

that it gives shade to smaller ones

where nests reside holding blue eggs.

 

Don’t ask what the world needs.

Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it.

Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

– Howard Thurman

Cultivate – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

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Shadowed understory no longer needed
sprout through old layers of indecision
boldly bolt toward sunlight to come.

Regardless of broken branches,
depleted soil from years
of growing the same crops.

Angle for full height, extension
of reach, beyond what is
expected of your species.

Grow yourself beyond
the gardens of your past
self.

© Ali Grimshaw 2019

“Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend.” – Sarah Ban Breathnach

Forgiving Connects

Open Link Night – d’Verse Poets Pub

 

365 Pages of 2018 – a poem by Ali Grimshaw

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I wrote across
and down the page
sometimes diagonal doodles
to break through lines
that I refused, not willing
to be penned in.
Editing bled and tore through
to pages underneath.
Grateful for a thick tablet
layers of mistakes on the way to golden
this party called life, waking up
to attend, embrace the tousled mess
tumbles, triumph, trembles of love
that live outside of words.
The minutes are not guaranteed
savor this very one.

© Ali Grimshaw 2018

Each year I celebrate getting to live another year by writing a birthday poem. I hope this inspires you to author your life. What story are you writing this year? These bloggers have inspired my next chapter; Debbie at Forgiving Connects , Colleen at The Chatter Blog, Val at Find Your Middle Ground, Miriam at Out an’ About, and Brad at Writing To Freedom

Here is the link to last year’s birthday poem 365 Pages.

May love touch your day.

Ali

ON A SPACE CALLED LAND

The voice of a poem can pull your feet from the muck and this one did so for me this morning. Therefore, I am sharing it forward with the hope that it free your feet as well. It comes from  SINGING HEART POEMS, STORIES & MUSINGS BY KAREM BARRATT

ON A SPACE CALLED LAND

And so it happens that we are all walkers:

Runners, joggers, skippers;

Trail blazers, some of us.

Path finders.

And that is the answer of the ages.

Of the “who am I” and “what am I doing here.”

We are machete wielders, creating

The path unique to ourselves,

To our laughter and our tears.

We are charterers of the unknown

Jungles that our lives are, similar

To many, yet different in every sense.

We do not travel the road less travelled:

We create the way.

We build the bridge, draw the maps,

Write the memoirs that the

Next generation will forget or

Misunderstand, because I am not

You, nor you I, and my yellow

Brick road is  blondish, buttery white,

Whilst yours is coppery gold.

And so, like the Spanish poet

Said, dear walker, there is no road.

The road is rendered by your feet when

You start your walk.

And that is life. And who you are.

A walker of dreams on a space called land.

By K. Barratt

Lull – a poem by Ali Grimshaw

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Leaves play tag in the breeze
as cars chase green lights.
I am the only stillness
in the city this hour.

Living without permission
no need to ask, “Am I allowed?”
The leaves don’t ask to dance
down the cracked sidewalk.

I grant myself this moment
this sunlight soak before
winter darkness.

© Ali Grimshaw 2017

If Poets Ruled The World

 

If you brought poetry to your exhale

how would you breathe?

If you brought poetry to your cooking

how would it taste?

If you brought poetry to your singing

how would it sound?

If we brought poetry to the conversation

what would we hear?

Would we notice the moan of wind outside our arguments

that the water from the pipes is at a trickle, our absent neighbors

don’t stand in the front yard anymore, weeds thrive

overtaking the edible garden, while last year’s birdhouse

remains empty? A muffled fear

like cotton balls in our ears.

 

If I lived poetry

could I see the heart

underneath your skin?

 

© Alicia Grimshaw 2018

“Poetry, whether the writing itself is explicitly political or not, always seeks a better way to respond, to think, to live.” – E. Ce Miller, writer, journalist

Sharing this great quote from Moorezart