Your error is forgetting that you also began as a seed. The starfish that loses an arm still thrives brightly seaward. The coyote howls, then listens through darkness to return to his pack. The angel oak's reach is far and long regardless of scarred branches. Can you see the lacework between the living? Each reaching out tied in small knots is also a receiving. © Ali Grimshaw 2021 Join a welcoming community of poets for OPEN LINK NIGHT at dVerse Poets Pub HERE
via Crocus blossom — Vova Zinger’s Photoblog
each day a reaching of outward iridescence threaded violet choices ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 Thank you to Vova Zinger for granting permission to share this inspiring photo as an accompaniment to my poem. I have followed Voya's photography blog for quite a while. His images are fantastic. I love writing with people from around the world. Come share your voice within the writing circle. You may be surprised how the words can flow forth with ease. All voices welcome. Self-Compassion Through Poetry: Writing Circle Friday, July 9, 9:30 – 11:00 am PDT. Register here
This tastes like the memory of that simmering summer day. I held a buttercup flower under your chin, declaring with the yellow glow of your skin, "You like butter." When you said, "Let me try," I knew we would be friends. You were another who wanted to see the colors for herself. ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 For Eugenia's prompt - Happiness Give yourself space to let go Give yourself time to listen inward Give yourself freedom to be Join me for my next writing circle. Self-Compassion Through Poetry: Writing Circle
Friday, July 9, 9:30 – 11:00 am PDT. Register here
"All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." ― Ernest Hemingway round and wound snugly tight we wrapped you with pockets of air to let the cold hurt breathe before exhaling it with the laughter each small stitch a holding of our unraveled hearts circled colors hitched secure with homemade memory patterns our shared stories under stars love appliqued for the winter months loops small and strong to hold your weight in the wind to keep your dreams collectively connected securely anointed with our goodbye tears tucked in tight for all nights you will never be left outside this handwoven circle of arms in each departing hand a yarn of length kept warm to remember you in tomorrow's pocket ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 Dedicated to Shelby Case, reporter, writer and friend. dVerse Poetics - Come join the fun HERE Photo take in Bellingham, WA. Join me for a writing circle Let me hold space for your voice to appear on the page. Self-Compassion Through Poetry: Writing Circle, Friday, June 25, 10:00 – 11:30 am PDT Register here
a poem is a door opening backward or sliding sideways for full human viewing a poem invites Awe's cousin Curiosity, to join you for a seat on a soft metaphor then reminds you to lean back a poem offers scaffolding for fear, for wonder for whatever arrives next with structure and airflow so nothing gets too stagnant including you and passing light through a green passageway ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 Photo taken in Porto, Portugal. Quadrille "Curiosity" on dVerse Poet's Pub - Join the fun HERE
“They started to burn the poets
But ash makes for more fertile soil.” – Khet Thi
if they are only words if they are only lines scratched in stone if only poems from one heart how could they be so dangerous to those with guns so threatening that the flame of one must be put out so powerful that extinguishing one wasn't enough I hear the call of lost poets their voices speak on to those willing to receive their light
I was stunned by this article, Where Poets Are Being Killed and Jailed After a Military Coup by Hannah Beech, New York Times. In honor of these lost poets I wanted to share their story. These words of mine feel so inadequate and that is why I am promising to remember the courage of these poets whenever I doubt the power of poetry.
May we find peace.
Join me for a writing circle
Self-Compassion Through Poetry: Writing Circle,
Friday, June 25, 10:00 – 11:30 am PDT Register here
Photo by Paul Bulai on Unsplash
“Poetry is not only dream and vision; it is the skeleton architecture of our lives. It lays the foundations for a future of change, a bridge across our fears of what has never been before.” – Audre Lorde
Come write with me
throw your words on the wall
like paint.
Splattering in play.
See which ones stick.
Watch which ones fall.
See the bridge
that you have forgotten.
The girl inside you
is longing to get messy.
©Ali Grimshaw 2021
Self-Compassion Through Poetry: Writing Circle
Friday, June 4, 8:30 – 10:00 am PDT. Register here
Photo taken in Amsterdam.
it may seem obvious but once you begin tangles will grow a lie's life all it's own vines wound round tightened with retelling knotted numbers of mistruths curled to choke your heart from the inside out disrupting the ecosystem of yourself edging toward extinction ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 What's in a word? Quadrille for dVerse Poets Pub - Join a friendly community of poets HERE
releasing herself to the sky to feel the lift let her weight trust in the invisible courage of currents surf soaring free up, over and through this unexpected windscape surrendering her need to know to resolve to figure it out arms wide, in full float with the faith of a bird that doesn't remember a day without flight or a time of being grounded ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 dVerse Open Link Night - Join in the fun HERE. Photo taken in Bozeman, Montana, USA.
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 