If we reject who we are bent feathers flawed and perfect as a sparrow we will lose the chance to know what it means to fly with love to know its power of lift to feel it under our wings to rest on its currents letting us soar without effort until we are restored ready for the next journey skyward when we have lost our belief in flight we don't need to learn how to fly just remember we were born knowing how ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 I was inspired to write this morning after listening to Mary Oliver read her poem. Click on this link to listen to her. - Mary Oliver: I Happened to be Standing Join my newsletter for upcoming writing circles. HERE Photo of the Columbia River Gorge, Oregon 2021.
Life’s roar a whisper Country road curves with no plan Afternoon of you. ©Ali Grimshaw 2021
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
Thinly sliced sections of her heart carefully laid bare an inner dissection to find the magnificence of awe that is her heartwisdom. Following faded peak moments mindfully mapped on her skin. Elevations reached, views of reckoning and contours fallen from while yearning led to an evolution of her topography. She continues to traverse past valleys while climbing toward her next becoming still a proposed expedition. © Alicia Grimshaw Rewrite from 2019 dVerse Open Link Night - Join the fun HERE 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
“Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.” – The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, 2013 –
your arms around me encircled together heart to heart someday I will touch a photo this moment's embrace replaying this day until then I am noticing the feeling while I still have you near I am memorizing the shape of holding you holding me ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 Photo of my son and I on my birthday 2020. Poetics on dVerse Poets Pub - Come join the fun HERE.