And isn't it always the question how to begin again to feel the crackly spark of love's first touch to adventure forth eyes wide in wonder of the not knowing when or how but with surety that the next wonderful will be there remember springing out of bed because lightness was all you knew it is the endings you keep tripping over desire for only beginnings no goodbyes © Ali Grimshaw 2023
Splendor – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
like wandering children we stepped gingerly in morning iced-light far from Christmas past far from storefronts, Amazon delivery miles from anything that necessitated wrapping we were gifted with captured stillness a fantastical frozen roadside of candied red delight reigned and our hearts were awed © Ali Grimshaw 2022 Wishing you wellness and peace wherever you are whatever you celebrate. May love land on your day. Ali Join us at dVerse Poet's Pub for Quadrille #166 HERE
City Dweller – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
“You are comprised of 84 minerals, 23 Elements, and 8 gallons of water spread across 38 trillion cells. You have been built up from nothing by the spare parts of the Earth you have consumed, according to a set of instructions hidden in a double helix and small enough to be carried by a sperm. You are recycled butterflies, plants, rocks, streams, firewood, wolf fur, and shark teeth, broken down to their smallest parts and rebuilt into our planet’s most complex living thing.
You are not living on Earth. You are Earth.”
— Aubrey Marcus
My heart has felt the isolation of cold times walls that didn't allow visitors to enter. if I had grown up in the forest sung to by the wind in the trees watched the birds flit, feed and gather in song if I had slept by the rushing river soothed by it magical movement of freedom to flow over and between if I had foraged with the bears following their lead to thread through undergrowth to find my fill would I have ever met loneliness? Does separation exist for forest dwellers moss to mouse tree to tribe river to racoon webbed connections none to separate? © Ali Grimshaw 2022 Join a welcoming community of poets for dVerse Open Link Night #327 - HERE
Intention – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
she wished to glue leaves of color back onto the limbs unprepared for this season's shift then frozen morning winds carried a new consideration her way could a breathe of chill be welcomed like an unexpected guest a dabbled hope through dark days? she tries this thought on, not her usual fashion, seeks to understand it's fittings then opens her dormant suitcase to laughter spilling out like sunshine a reminder of past orbits around the sun she has another day of changing sky and many clouds to capture
© Ali Grimshaw 2022
Moonwashed Musings – Dappled
Living the Questions – By Ali Grimshaw
"If you are faithful to living a question, that question will be faithful back to you." - Krista Tippett Living the Questions Which room do you lie down in most? The one with a sky blue ceiling of hopefulness or the backroom with walls of yesterday's old news. Where do you sit to nourish yourself? In the peach room of newness with windows open to birdsong breezes or the room of sterile white protection from the outside. What questions are you feeding yourself along with your morning tea? Who will you trust to welcome in to keep you company when you choose to remodel your next room? © Alicia Grimshaw 2022 If you only could choose one question to live into for the next week what would it be? earthweal - Open Link Weekend - join us HERE.
Back Then – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
This poem is in response to the Pandemic Haibun Challenge that’s currently underway in the publication, A Cornered Gurl via Medium. Thank you trE for the opportunity for shared reflection.
Noticings are always within reach if your eyes are open. A friend’s phone call, text photo, or cherished smile from six feet away can keep your cup from emptiness. Yet eventually days bleed into one another, months lose their borders, leaving Mondays indistinguishable. Where weeks fall like dominoes. Small routines within repeated walls lead to smaller and smaller thinking. Loneliness swallows you into the basket of its belly. Where over time depression feeds itself with handfuls of separation. It blindfolds your eyes so slowly you that you forget that sight has been lost. You stop moving, reaching out your arms. Until one morning’s shock of sunlight reminds you there is a world beyond this box called myself.
love went missing in
a forced experiment of
© Alicia Grimshaw 2022 Without reflection there is no opportunity to learn. What have you learned from the pandemic experience?
Black and White Beauty – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
“Art happens all the time, everywhere. All we have to do is to keep our minds open.“
— Jacek Tylicki American artist
royal beauty of white black touches highlight your grace mother of many dream discovery found through five-year-old eyes, gleam matching my surprise © Alicia Grimshaw 2022 A double Haiku, (I don't think there is such a thing but poets get to break rules) to honor this magnificent moth I saw recently in Louisiana. I always say, "Mother Nature is my favorite artist." Join me for earthweal open link weekend #142
Time Zones – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
I am honored to have my poem, Time Zones, published today on MASTICADORESUSA . Thank you to to Editor Gabriela Marie Milton for sharing my words with her readers. I run from myself catch a corner of feeling accept this moment of liberation You can read the rest of the poem HERE
Fall Will Catch You – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
Painted leaves sing in unison. Unlike music, their song is soundless harmony. This orchestra of glow soothes the tempo of an internal pounding from a day of instruments that refused to play the same song. Fall will catch you with muted volume a serenade of equilibrium while watercolored leaves hold you in a nest of rest. © Alicia Grimshaw (rewrite of 2018 poem) Join a friendly community of poets at dVerse Poets Pub for Open Link Night HERE
Circling Back – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
"I know things. I've seen things. I don't know what you're going through, though. I've held troubles, but they weren't shaped like yours. I've lost, but none of my missing pieces would have filled your gaps. I know some things, not all things." from a poem called, the knowing by Ra Avis Circling back coming round sliding through this Autumn arc I greet myself a younger version of complex cells she is just a beginning a growing lightness wrapped in doubt © Ali Grimshaw 2022 Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Alone Come join us for a creative boost. HERE Photo of God's Thumb Hike, Oregon Coast Click HERE for information