How to Read a Poem


You don’t think a poem.

It cannot be read like a street sign.

Lick it from a bowl,

stretch your tongue out for the last bit of tastiness.

Sit in the mist, absorb it through your skin

whilst remembering the texture.

Let your goosebumps translate the words.

Consider the possible,

like being able to scratch that itch in the middle of your back

you can never reach.

Accept the pain in your ribs, like a toddler tantrum

an infuriating poke partnered with a presence of love.

All that lies outside of you and everything inside

this container called


© Alicia Grimshaw 2017

national poetry month

“… encountering a difficult poem is like a game or sport, say rock climbing, that makes you work a bit. The idea of finding handholds and footholds and ascending one bit at a time is apt. But some climbs are easier than others; some are very easy. You may enjoy an easy climb for a while, but you may also find that you want a bigger challenge. Reading poetry works the same way, and, fortunately, poets leave trails to help you look for the way “up” a poem. You’ll have to do some work, hard work in some cases, but most of the time, the trails are there for you to discover.” – How to Read a Poem from


The shadow of beauty

In beauty’s shadow

a crisp line, clearly defined

elegance of shape

where darkness and light kiss,

yet keep their boundaries

brought forth by the sunlight

and those who choose to stand in it.

© Alicia Grimshaw 2017

Photo by Kirsten Schwabel (Thank you Kirsten for the beauty.)

Happy National Poetry Day 2017

The Quiet of Grace

Dressed in white, they gather

a sacred opening, shared hush

They lean in to listen for what is to come.

My eyes honored guests to witness their glory.

One of few who will attend this party today.

© Ali Grimshaw 2017

Photo Challenge – Graceful



You are a blue sky.

A color that I love to get lost in.

A consistent and ever-changing

backdrop for others,

and stand alone marvel.

Sometimes filled with challenging clouds

opening my eyes

to visions of blue

I’ve not seen.

© Ali Grimshaw