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

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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

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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

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And so it goes – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

at either end of night
there is an opening to light
between, "Good Morning"
and the next curtaining of eyes

there is an opening 
between what remains on the list
the permanently written yet unresolved
and the one who holds the pen

there is an opening 
without a defined doorway
that resides within all light
a heartspace without walls

it lies in the pause before the next 
twilight of the in between
rubythroat mellowing to nectarine

©Ali Grimshaw 2021

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Lacework – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

Your error is forgetting
that you also began
as a seed.

The starfish that loses an arm
still thrives brightly seaward.

The coyote howls, then listens through
darkness to return to his pack.

The angel oak's reach is far and long
regardless of scarred branches.

Can you see the lacework 
between the living?

Each reaching out
tied in small knots
is also a receiving.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

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Topography – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

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

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Airborne – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

releasing herself
to the sky
to feel the lift 
let her weight trust 
in the invisible 
courage of currents 

surf soaring free 
up, over and through
this unexpected windscape
surrendering her need 
to know
to resolve
to figure it out 

arms wide, in full float
with the faith of a bird
that doesn't remember
a day without flight
or a time of being grounded

©Ali Grimshaw 2021

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Photo taken in Bozeman, Montana, USA.

Just now – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

Now as I remove it, I lay it down. It leans back on the bed relaxing into a stretch my stiff body is unable to replicate. It has protected me from the virus all day and expects to have some time off. I breathe in, stretch, and begin to wonder how many words it has caught in the past few months? Words I thought to express but didn't. I hesitate often with thought, with care for myself and others. I don't speak as quickly as I used to. It is not for lack of valuing my voice. It is that the past months have shifted me. In the last year I have wondered more than ever how my words will be heard and where they might land. 

Looking down now. I realize how often I redirected sentences into my mask instead of sending them. I see so many captured. There are layers of phrases. More than yesterday. Some scribbled from speaking to myself, some barely readable as they were spoken in a whisper under my breath. They are massed together. Jumbled softly in the woven fabric, an unusual relic. Is it worth saving? Is it worth deciphering these undelivered words? What could I learn if I used a magnifying glass to dig backward? 


revisit the past
there is wisdom in Spring rain
see today's blossoms

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

Napowrimo 2021

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Poetry has arms – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

Poetry has arms 
to reach beyond borders
stretch across isles
swim channels of shame
while handing our fresh hankies
for tears of lost love

Poetry has arms
to hold, comfort, and allow
for all to be felt 
the sharp, the cut wide open
with acceptance
Poetry pushes no one away

All are welcome
through this doorway

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

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While wandering – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

"Without poetry, we lose our way." - Joy Harjo


the future of my day is coming from 
where yours has already taken a seat

while I wake, you are closing the book 
to rest your head in a country covered by stars

Here on this pondering path of forest
synchronized with the slow passing of light
this fern comnunity reaches toward many 

more than any one person can see
and one of them is me

a gathering of condolences for this 
time of separation, green fronds reach
to surround me in a forest embrace

our fiddlehead hearts, 
together while apart

your voice sits with me, uncurling
I am moss damp with missing you

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

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30 Ways to Celebrate the 25th Annual National Poetry Month
Day 3 of National Poetry & Global Poetry Writing Month