a poem is a door opening backward or sliding sideways for full human viewing a poem invites Awe's cousin Curiosity, to join you for a seat on a soft metaphor then reminds you to lean back a poem offers scaffolding for fear, for wonder for whatever arrives next with structure and airflow so nothing gets too stagnant including you and passing light through a green passageway ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 Photo taken in Porto, Portugal. Quadrille "Curiosity" on dVerse Poet's Pub - Join the fun HERE
“Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.” – The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, 2013 –
your arms around me encircled together heart to heart someday I will touch a photo this moment's embrace replaying this day until then I am noticing the feeling while I still have you near I am memorizing the shape of holding you holding me ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 Photo of my son and I on my birthday 2020. Poetics on dVerse Poets Pub - Come join the fun HERE.
“Poetry is not only dream and vision; it is the skeleton architecture of our lives. It lays the foundations for a future of change, a bridge across our fears of what has never been before.” – Audre Lorde
Come write with me
throw your words on the wall
like paint.
Splattering in play.
See which ones stick.
Watch which ones fall.
See the bridge
that you have forgotten.
The girl inside you
is longing to get messy.
©Ali Grimshaw 2021
Self-Compassion Through Poetry: Writing Circle
Friday, June 4, 8:30 – 10:00 am PDT. Register here
Photo taken in Amsterdam.
it may seem obvious but once you begin tangles will grow a lie's life all it's own vines wound round tightened with retelling knotted numbers of mistruths curled to choke your heart from the inside out disrupting the ecosystem of yourself edging toward extinction ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 What's in a word? Quadrille for dVerse Poets Pub - Join a friendly community of poets HERE
Let me hold space for your voice to appear on the page.
Self-Compassion Through Poetry: Writing Circle
Friday, May 21, 8:30 – 10:00 am PDT. Register here
Tickets are by donation.
a gathering of cells multiplying magnificent a seed inside breathing being and no one even knew that you had begun arriving, small magic happening inside the womb she went about her day hanging laundry in her quiet way while the message of you grew © Ali Grimshaw 2021 An early Mother's Day poem. Quadrille Monday on dVerse
When I grow up I want to be a river a flow of ease clear and welcoming reflecting forest green. I want to feel the slide and shine over pebbles smooth and freely wandering down the mountainside no obstacles only friends. © Ali Grimshaw 2021 Day 12 of Na/GloPoWriMo. I went rouge with my urge for freedom and didn't follow the prompt.
"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 Join a welcome community of poets at dVerse for Open Link Night - HERE 30 Ways to Celebrate the 25th Annual National Poetry Month Day 3 of National Poetry & Global Poetry Writing Month
Your separation started with a small knot, then the winding began. Strings of storybooks, twined through nights and days of countless fresh starts, repeating circles. The looping of stories wound through our shared days. Up and down on the life school rollercoaster, back when I used to hold your hand. Our faces in the wind a side by side scream of surprise moments you reached out, adding to yourself adding another layer of becoming. While some saw mangled routes and loose ends I envied your brave expanding, overlapping leaps of curiosity to solidify your center. Now you roll down new streets with layers of perseverance over boyish charm a masterpiece touching lives I will never meet. I hope you never stop winding over that small knot, tied while I watched. © Ali Grimshaw 2021 This poem is dedicated to my two amazing sons. I am grateful to be your mother. dVerse Open Link Night - Join a welcoming community of poets HERE.
Where to Write From You might think that to be a poet you must have a way with words You can keep thinking that more room for me You might think you must reach way down in the weeds pulling out muddy roots from your sodden brain or recall in detail places of distinction You might think you must go heart searching to find phenomenal fodder for verse or have personal connections with the waves, the sun, the moon and the stars There are those who have done that But really you might be content to write frilly froth of fabled fellows Or maybe, just maybe you’ll surprise yourself, crawl down deep like an a spelunking explorer to places in yourself you haven’t been or yet even noticed By Lilli Ann Carey I am grateful for Lilli Ann's permission to share her poem from a recent writing circle. Writing together provides a mirror for us to process life in a safe place. Each of us has words that matter. Within the writing circle we nourish them. Curious? Email met at coaching@aligrimshaw.com
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 