Sometimes a leafgreen season allows a reaching beyond our past perimeter of pain. Will you build a bridge or jump ship? Questions like Spring rain essential for endurance. Pause before you reach the 50-mile marker wondering what brought you to the desert without water. ©Ali Grimshaw 2022 Join us HERE for Earthweal Open LInk Weekend. Join us at dVerse Poets' Pub for Monday Quadrille HERE.
unexpected can be beauty with open eyes ©Ali Grimshaw 2022 This Monoku, a single line poem consisting of seventeen syllables or even fewer, inspired by Eugi's Casuerie. The photo was taken on my recent trip to Mexico. I spent a lot of time just being, not doing, just hearing the heartbeat of the ocean. I wish this for everyone. Sending peace from my heart to yours.
when he first drew the lines he had no idea how far that circle would roll how it would arrive on windshields, bridges, believers show itself on countryside barns, walls within cityscapes live on t-shirts worn by people of every color he didn't know and he let his heart draw forward a circle of himself, arms outstretched today this rocksolid symbol kept pocketwarm for peace she is determined to hold traveled with her in faith to pass onto small hands. ©Ali Grimshaw 2022 "I was in despair. Deep despair," he wrote, according to the book TM: The Untold Stories Behind 29 Classic Logos. "I drew myself: the representative of an individual in despair with hands palm outstretched outwards and downwards in the manner of Goya's peasant before the firing squad. I formalized the drawing into a line and put a circle round it. It was ridiculous at first and such a puny thing." - Gerald Holtom The symbol was adopted by the British Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, of which Holtom was a member, and made its public debut Easter weekend, 1958. from The origin story of the peace sign by LAUREN HANSEN Join in dVerse Poets' Pub Open Link Night HERE. You can watch the video recording of today's gathering.
My words were inspired by this nourishing song, The River,
written and performed by Coco Love Alcorn. Please give it a listen.
river's spirit sings rhythm without age it knows flow where to go it helps me trust the way with eyes closed, receiving I open to the waterway joining streamlets, runnels, rivulets rushing away Mother Earth's teaching receding or overflow returning is river's way to go ©Ali Grimshaw 2022 Join us at dVerse - Eyeing the Quadrille #147 HERE
soft
giggles
like crumbs of encouragement
warm
murmurs
like holding a shaking hand
pillows of
intention
there to catch you
if,
just if.
©Ali Grimshaw 2022
None of us knows what tomorrow will bring.
Yet, I do know that I can choose love and I will.
dVerse – Open Link Night #311
While descending the mountain I reflected on the view. Distance is so difficult for me to grasp. The clear sky made it seem that I could reach out and touch the red farmhouse roof below. Yet I had miles and miles to go before returning to the train station in the valley. Sometimes the cold mountain of winter feels like that to me, like a season of saddness stretching farther than I can see. My feet are heavy in step and the steps are far between. Then a tilt of light opens up a new view. The green valley returns and I hear the chorus of cow bells in the distance. A sound like the world has regained balance and I wish it to be true. steep climber's view after ascending through aches frosted peaks layered ©Ali Grimshaw 2022 This photo taken on my way down Mount Wendelstein in the Bavarian Alps, South Germany. What a view. Join us for Haibun Monday 2/28/22: Cold Mountain at dVerse Poets' Pub HERE
We are shaped by what we give with effort or easily generous, open handed in the full light of day. We are shaped again by what we are tenative in receiving or open armed in our willingness believing ourselves worthy. How my shape has changed by the years of you rubbing against each other burnishing us both to copper shine. ©Ali Grimshaw 2022
“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, throw your words on the wall like paint. Splattering in playful revealing. See which ones stick. Watch which ones fall or slide down the wall. Your words want out to frollick in the sun to show you hope lives on. Holding our words with listening care, teasured gently in open hands we hear their song see them as foreground aglow in luscious hues where you will sit in their light. ©Ali Grimshaw 2022
I am a blade of grass held by other blades surrounding. One blade in a field of many. Close together/alone. Our sides hold us faces to the sky. Reaching toward sunlight side by side in directions wide. None to be flattened. © Ali Grimshaw 2022
I continue to meet big-hearted humans across different time zones. Writing together provides a mirror for us to process life in a place where we have all agreed to listen with compassion. Come join us for a writing circle. No experience needed. All voices are welcome.
Write Yourself: Reflection Through Poetry
Sat, February 12, 2022 10:30 AM – 12:00 PM PST
Splintered thoughts pierce afternoon intentions, a full-tilt frustrationquake. In the chilled middle perseverance wains weary. Curiosity escapes the building. Shivering anger taps out words I know I will never send. Yet wisdom isn't hibernating. I wait 24 hours to thaw, for what will remain. © Ali Grimshaw 2022 Quadrille #144: Shivering - Join us at dVerse - HERE
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 