
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017


© Alicia Grimshaw 2017

When you visit the land of your own thinking.
Shocked by what you see
tip toe between the lines of your history
so as not to waken them
these tales from the past
will inquire of your intentions.
Take a flashlight
when you visit your thoughts.
It can be eerily dark inside,
a tangle of paths to lose your way.
No one to question doubts
remind you of the courageous act
of responsibility taken just last week.
Step with care, lightly
as you lift, poke and dig.
Leave some music playing in the room
to find your way out.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017

Wrap yourself in the miracle of this sunrise.
Open eyes
Open ears
Open heart
Cry for even one life that is not yet free
unable to see the sun.
A stranger arrives at the bus stop.
“How’s your morning going?”
Look into his eyes, instead of away
as he answers.
Ask him if he saw the sunrise.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017

© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
“In spite of the flames of tragedy, a poem is a glowing ember, making visible the power of hope, and the human spirit. We must not only read and watch, we are called by the poet to bring the flame back to the ember, to do what we can to help people not only to survive, but to thrive.” – Why Poetry Matters from Huffington Post
Under the tree, sitting
knee to knee while
randomly, snow petals
drift down between us.
‘How can we begin again?
After all, I don’t trust.
I have forgotten how, or…
maybe I never knew.’
While branches above blossom yearly
growth regardless of weather.
‘I guess the question is,
how badly do I
want to blossom?’
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
“Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.” — Carl Sandburg, from The Atlantic, March 1923.

© Alicia Grimshaw 2017

Hold in place. Unwavering as the hurricane blows. Stand still when faced with a slap. Unbreakably bolted down. Absolute. Never cringe away. Stay. Forward one small step, your time. Crawl if you must. Claim your life. Take the hand that is offered then rise again. Unwilling to be swallowed, drug into the past. Drowned. Face toward what your heart holds true. Like a mountain through the seasons, remain.
Living refusal
thoughts chosen to unify
imprisoned by none
My first attempt to write a Haibun (俳文, literally, haikai writings) a prosimetric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. For those of you who are know this craft well, please understand this is a humble beginning.



In response to The Daily Post – Outlier
Have you ever sat by the sea
listened to the voice in the waves
accompanied by the underwater drummers
pulling you back to a time
before words were spoken
a time of simultaneous floating
while anchored
a return to your first home
before your feet ever walked the earth?
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017


© Alicia Grimshaw 201

