Knee deep in, “I can’t believe I said that.”
Toes numbed by the cold reality
while echoed words play inside your head.
Let the current caress errors of grime
wash away the mistaken mud of this day
to return to the raw, tender tingle.
Step out onto the bank of clean sheets
let new beginnings drip from your feet.
© Ali Grimshaw 2019
Forgiving Connects – Forgiving Fridays
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
They called her crazy
an attempt to freeze her with jeers
never understanding
that she chose
to avoid too much comfort.
Empathy would always
be her closest friend
arm in arm, they would
walk in sandals through
November frost.
Warmed by desire
for connection.
A step toward those
who had no shoes.
© Ali Grimshaw 2018
You always asked me why,
how did leaves change color
giggling from the red wagon
I pulled around the block.
As the leaves parade, an early flaming row
burned into memory, your voice
is missing in the trees.
Wishing it returned
with the falling.
© Ali Grimshaw 2018
she wished to glue
leaves of color back onto the limbs
unprepared for season’s shift
then her dormant suitcase looked up
with eyes of grace, a reminder
of past orbits around the sun.
© Ali Grimshaw 2018
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 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
Sharing this great quote from Moorezart
