The Gift – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

He bought it used. It was heavy and solid like home. Soon he began to peel the layers away. It was painted antique green and underneath she remembered a layer of white, then bright orange. She was not sure what the the other colors were but it had been coated and recoated by many who had different preferences. He spent hours cleaning away paint brushed into the crevices and cracks. It was a labor of care to reach the wood grain underneath all of those years. She watched him work off and on knowing he would continue. He told her it would be hers but her doubt piled up with the days. Through the sanding and peeling of hours of evenings. It was taking a long time, so much time and more than he realized it would. After all of that scraping away to bring the beauty to light, she knew that it couldn’t be passed to another, even a daughter that he loved. It wouldn’t be hers now. Not because it was an antique piano, but because of the time it took him to bring it back to life. When he said, “Yes, of course it is yours.” She was surprised by the love of those hours. It remains with her today.

winter through window

gold sunlight gleams in wood grain

warming to the touch

 ©Ali Grimshaw 2021

Haibun Monday at dVerse - Join us.

And the questions keep coming – poem by Ali Grimshaw

They come as colors with overlapping sides or frayed edges
and in the transition of time often mix into each other.

They come with thick bold boundaries, holding the fierce 
hues that refuse to be diminished or mellowed by new arrivals.

They come as evaporated mist close enough to dampen 
my skin, yet just out of reach to clearly articulate in sounds.

They come regardless of time of night, often dancing to distract
while I am in the middle of a conversation intent on listening.

They come generously not asking or demanding, but in hope
that I will allow them to teach me how feeling them could be

different than finding their answers.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021
Photo taken in Porto, Portugal 2017

Come explore opening lines on dVerse today MTB: Opening lines…beginnings

Cee's Stacked or Piled up Challenge

Check the correct box – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

How we name ourselves keeps us 
separate, collected or behind fences.

What if we lost all labels to the wind?
Started over with a single hello. 

Here is a new and rare being
a species my brain cannot categorize

outside of any box, never encountered 
right before my own human eyes.

How wonder would fill me
with the awe of you.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

dVerse - Poetics:Connections 
A wonderful community of writers reside on dVerse Poets Pub. Come join in the fun.

Photo of mural taken in Auray, France. 2019

This is not a pair of shoes

This dancing couple has grace
swinging and swirling across the floor
while never leaving each other's side.

One with a worn toe from accenting turns
The other steady centered,
to spin in balanced pleasure.

I long to slip into their magical trance 
it has been a long while
since they have been out on a date.

As I pull them from the closet
I smile with the miles of songs
we traveled together.

Both have matched many steps 
to anxious cold handed partners 
tentative hesitance of beginners
ease of familiar firm arms.

This pair is a portal to playfulness
open to all ages, they remain 
timeless in their relationship.

A long lasting love story between them
to be lived again and again
until their soles have worn away.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

Come join the fun on dVerse with Poetics: Object Poems

Dedicated to all my social dancing friends and anyone who is missing the joy of dancing together.

ex·cog·i·tat·ing

Broken shadows across the cracked ground
smoke ghosts reside in charred places
once nestled home spaces, closed
doorways of tomorrow
silent squatters drift
among dreams to
imagine
rain, please
rain.

© Ali Grimshaw 2020

dVerse Poets Pub Challenge 
NONET – a nine line poem that begins 
with 9 syllables, descending 
line by line to 1 syllable.

* First line of this poem taken from 
W.S. Merwin,“To the Light of September

Alongside the Tent – poem by Ali Grimshaw

My bare feet travel riverside down the dust talcum path. They feel the way forward while softly grounded in the fine dirt. As the bank of trees lean to shade, the river glides past, over and around rocks. Here it seems effortless for lives of birds, fish and plants to thrive together. None needing to shame or blame. Is it just my interpretation or have the living of the river ecosystem always known that there is enough for all, that everyone’s time will someday pass, that we will someday be nourishment for the next in line and there is peace in the acceptance of being a part of the changing cycle? There seems to be balance here. The kind of balance I am always seeking. As I hike up the pants, I have yet to grow into, I wonder if humans really are the more evolved species. It seems that I have so much to learn from the Osprey’s willingness to try again and the way rivers shift course without blaming the logs that have fallen to block their route. As I pack up my tent site I am already planning my return.

The river knows flow
transforming place without shame 
forgiving teacher

© Ali Grimshaw 2020

Haibun Monday, 8/31/20:Take a Hike! Join in the sharing at dVerse Poet's Pub.

Ripen – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

dVerse ~ Poets Pub OLN – Come and explore this great community of poets.

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tended affectionately
organic prizes plumped
primed by summer's passion
heat and BB King's blues
quenching warmth 
gathering of sunlit kisses
red ripe to tango 
with your tongue and mine
slip into my backyard 
delight in this tender flesh
this ready to please moment 
of this temporary season.

© Ali Grimshaw 2020 (rewrite from 2018)

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What has yet to Appear – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

We are balancing between the blocks of our days large and small. Squares filled with the demands of our days and squares now left open. Boxes where plans once sat in happy company with future anticipation. Now canceled without pattern. Just scattered openings in the grid. Emptiness at first look, then disbelief. As we walk farther down the street, grief standing next to disappointment. Finally we turn the corner and see a tiny new patio garden. Someone is intent on growing beauty from strong willed, concrete pots. The first sprouts are just reaching free.

Determined seeds rise

there is always a crack, wide

enough for thriving

Lisbon, Portugal

This Haibun Monday over at dVerse Poets Pub we have a visual prompt. It was an new adventure for me. Click here to join the challenge.