I float with the current, closing my eyes with trust
in September sky and the horizon of letting go.
While the river laps a rhythmic lullaby for my breath
to rest upon. I join this waterway that knows how
to reach the sea without a plan.
Here, birdcalls settle in my ears warmly.
Here on the water, a quieting motion
outside of what humans have named.
© Ali Grimshaw 2025
Join a welcoming group of poets at dVerse Poets’ Pub HERE.
Photo of me afloat on the Tualatin River in Oregon.
outside my window some leaves still shine deep green while others
yellow to crisp edges
like differing rooms living through seasons of this house
holding a room of restful freshness
and outdated rooms yet to be revisited with today's view
a room of gatherings present and past
decades of dents and scratches, musicians and boardgames
voices absorbed by the grain of the enduring oak table
stairs where I have fallen with my hands full
and stairs where we held hands to steady the climb upward
there is a room where floating memories lighten as dust sparkles
another where music lives among the dancing shadows
today wet paint will secret away stories of the many inhabitants
while I alone remember the layers underneath
a treasured gratitude for a life within safe walls
when the golden leaves fall this September
who might enter through my blue sky doorway?
© Ali Grimshaw 2025
Join a welcoming group of poets at dVerse Poets’ Pub HERE. This prompt was inspired by Albert Garcia’s poem “August Morning,”
This is not my house, but a blue door I photographed in France in 2019.
My house does have a blue door.
Silky Owlet / Photographed in Papua New Guinea / Michael Sammut
She is different from me
yet we share a desire of forests
deeply shadowed with a hundred greens.
What do her eyes see?
I think she is teaching me how to land
make steady a fragile footing
from leaf to leaf
beautifully balanced
and I am captivated.
© Ali Grimshaw 2025
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Melissa has invited us to celebrate art in nature.
You can check it out HERE.
“Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.” – Pablo Neruda
Like rain on wildfire
I am quenched by your voice.
I hadn't realized my shrunkenness
my dehydrated heart in wait.
Your laugh rippled across the crowd.
I could feel your presence of lightness in its cadence.
It is all the more precious to hear
knowing that life isn't easy for you.
Your laughter is like a defiant call
of the joy riding alongside the grief.
I feel it in my dancing bones
as I twirl toward your part of the floor.
© Ali Grimshaw 2024
This poem is dedicated to my friend, Valerie. Her laugh is steadfast and generous. It always makes my heart smile. Whose laugh lights up your day? I hope you will let them know.
Join a welcoming group of poets at dVerse Poets' Pub for this poetics challenge. You can visit HERE.
Life is short,
love big.
Ali
He throws down an eight of clubs. She counters with a merciless queen. Loss then gain the stacks grow bloodless conquering of another. They aim to slay the other while gaming with destruction. "I will kill you," she shouts with glee. There are no real winners in this game of war only silent members lost from a deck forever altered by the missing. The unequal sides of reds and blacks. All of the kings have gone missing. © Ali Grimshaw 2023 Photo taken in Dubrovnik, Croatia. I had an opportunity to reflect on the 1991 bombing of this town while visiting this past September. Written in response to the prompt, Poetics: Why war? come join a friendly community of poets on dVerse Poets' Pub, HERE.
“Travel is about the gorgeous feeling of teetering in the unknown.” – Anthony Bourdain
One, listen for the sound of water moving freely it finds a way forward without argument over moss, between stones. Two, follow the rain slicked planks built to cross this earthy beauty in curved rather than straight lines. Three, notice how many shades of green exist chartreuse, emerald cucumber, pine. Look again, then again. Name some of your own making watermoss. Four, feel mist envelope as raindrops greet you are water too. Five, sing forth your internal compass join the hum of molecules one song is enough. © Ali Grimshaw 2023 Written in Response to "Five Directions to My House" by Juan Felipe Herrera. Hear him read his poem HERE. This prompt came from dVerse Poets' Pub. Come join a friendly, welcoming community of poets. Photograph taken at Plitvice Lakes National Park in Croatia.
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night – Gibran
when your words unchanged return, are heard when your song, echoed notes of hue, comes back to you when belonging becomes your word a melting occurs, gray absorbed by blue watercoloring you into the canvas of all becoming whole, no longer fearing the fall Then all the colors of you are revealed poured forth onto the listening canvas of this moment. © Ali Grimshaw 2020 Join the dVerse Poetry Community for Tuesday Poetics
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 