Beckoning – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

turning the page
tilts my story's full, first half

daybreak spills, spreading

past pages highlighted 
scribbled, dog-eared 

moldable mornings
of my middle life

a return route mapped
for when memory fades

my shadow lengthens
I am far past sunrise 

now imagination holds 
the pen 

©Ali Grimshaw 2022

Join a welcoming community of poets at dVerse
for Quadrille #158 Morning Has Broken -HERE

Taking Flight – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

Transitions are in the air... some are leaving the nest for flight. 

As you join the others
a new word grows inside me,

a tight bundled joypain sits within
my chest cracking open to release 

the scent of baby powered damp hair

for the many practiced days have passed
the next migration is a solo flight.

Your sturdy shoulders of readiness 
experimental charm accompanied with grin

will be a gift many will appreciate.

Your graduation to come 
is a forced exhale and I breathe in 

the flight to come.

Shake off the illusion, you were never 
really mine from the start. 

You have always belonged to to the world.

I was always ever the warm nest
from which you would someday fly.

©Ali Grimshaw 2022

Join a welcoming community for Open Link Night at dVerse. HERE

Dedicated to all parents of graduates.  Yes, part of your heart is stepping out into the world to touch the lives of others. Let it go. Part of it will stay with you forever. What a privilege to experience this amazing journey of expanding love. Congratulations.

Sipping – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

she didn't need to know how to pronounce the name
of what grew before her delicately vivid

she didn't need to understand how it pollinated
or the temperatures it withstood last winter

she didn't need to know why it arrived 
who brought it from afar or how it survived

her eyes saw the magenta magnificence
drank in the sweet joy of bloom in a cup

tasted the miniture petals
an elixer of revival

©Ali Grimshaw 2022

Join a friendly community of poets for Open Link Night
at dVerse Poet's Pub HERE

Welcome – Poem By Ali Grimshaw

I stumbled upon this tree and she had much to share
"I'm twisted and far from upright but that won't stop me

from blue sky mornings, feeling the sun warm each layer
of my thick skin muffling me from the critics of all things

that don't look quite straight. Let the rain drip down 
your skin. What? You say you haven't stood naked in the rain?

You haven't lived until you've felt singular drops land cool
one, then another to awaken aliveness once lost to you.

Stick with me kid. There's no reason to return to the city.
Let me see your Tree Pose. Beautiful! Welcome to the grove."

©Ali Grimshaw 2022

For day 13 of Na/GloPoWriMo. Everything is going to be amazing.

Join us for dVerse Poets' Pub Open LInk Night - HERE

Photo taken in the desert outside of Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. 
What a magical experience to meet this grandmother tree.

Just in case – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

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

Transitory – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

I built a bridge to you
using marshmallows and glue
It was worth the sticky effort
then it melted in the rain.

I threw a magic ruby rope
woven with sparkles of hope
singing enchantments 
to call you closer.

I dug a river of blue
inviting a float on my skin
to pull you within
but you preferred to fly.

I nested a home for myself
cocooned through my pain.
With a change in the winds
on a zephyr you rode in.

© Ali Grimshaw 2022

dVerse Open LInk Night #307 - Join in HERE

Photo take at the fantastic Chihuly Garden last summer when I was still traveling.

Improvement- Poem by Ali Grimshaw

Do birds tweet tips to build the ultimate nest
the perfect moss, twigs and feathers, 
compare upgrades while glancing at neighboring trees?
Are their morning songs full of howtos
improvements for the hatching experience 
which worms provide ultimate first year growth? 
Do they evaluate whose chick flies first
beak prodding, edging young to the side of the nest?

Do whales train for the record breaking swim 
gossip about sleek oils to reduce resistance, 
or share tips for secret feeding grounds?
Do they nose their young to be better, faster, more
than the last generation in hope of survival?
Do they feel the temperature change 
of homeland waters and wonder?

What does it mean to live up to your full potential?
Who decides what that looks like while growing inside
a cage of culture we have been born into? More is 
better or not, faster? Further? More fragile?
What says the wisdom of each being? 

When have I last heard my beating heart?

© Ali Grimshaw 2021 

Join us at dVerse Open LInk Night - HERE

Briefly – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

Fallen Leaf Art by Nikola Faller in Osijek, Croatia – More inspiring photos HERE
Briefly

Stages and ages of crimson edges
crisp rounds, centers of golden.

Veins will remain long after the delicate
sections have disassembled themselves
to join the soil for another cycle.

These elders don't fight seasonal changes.
Through the quiet and loud
or bend and wave of storm
they receive while sheltering seedings below

forever willing to show their nakeness
in the darkest of times.
With empty arms
while full of life within.

Their offerings a mosaic
of temorary color.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

Join us on dVerse Poet's Pub for Open Link Night - HERE

Sustaining – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

As the virus
careens
spinning down
our long road.

The dust has yet
to settle
from the wheels.

Slow motion 
particles fall
as we sift silently
through glittered 
remembering.

Was that last month
or yesterday?

As I am here
reaching
you are there
still
only through airwaves

and yet I hear
your love.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

Join us at dVerse Poets' Pub for
Open Link Night HERE

Her Dance – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

"Remember your dance?
The young girl inside me
calls out, 
"Remember?"

Dad told me how, as a baby,
I sat on the floor rocking side to side,
just smiling.

Later I was known to start the day 
with only one shoe
my frustrated mother shaking her head
while the school bus left me behind again.

I was a girl who thrived
climbing trees, running through woods
I wasn't hyperactive, just a mover.
Running brought temporary relief.

The only dancing I knew growing up  
drill teams of painted girls, 
performance dancers
that wasn't me.

Finding social dancing in my 20's 
was like a drug. 
Swinging partners in dancehalls
escaping thoughts I didn't know how to turn off. 
Anxiety, the never ending loop of ideas. 
I found myself in the music. 
I floated free. 

It is never too late 
to turn the music on
find your sway, sashay 
surrender to internal movement 

Your body has not forgotten.
Your brain has many incredible ideas 
but your heart is the one who knows
how to dance with the world.

Listen inward
find the place 
where your freedom
resides.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

“When Gillian was 8 years old, her hyperactivity — which earned her the nickname Wriggle-Bottom — led her mother to take her to a family doctor. While he examined Gillian, the doctor put on some music and asked Mrs. Pyrke to leave the room with him. “Out they went and the minute they had gone I started to dance to the music, even going up on his desk,” Ms. Lynne wrote in her autobiography, “A Dancer in Wartime” (2012). “What I hadn’t noticed was that his door was one of those beautiful old glass ones with etched designs through which the doctor and my mother were watching.” As they observed Gillian dancing with abandon, she recalled, the doctor said: “There is no trouble with this child, Mrs. Pyrke. She is a natural dancer — you must take her to dance class.” – Gillian Lynne, Choreographer of ‘Cats,’ Is Dead at 92 from The New York Times

Join Open Link Night on dVerse Poets Pub HERE