By knowing you,
I find myself.
Now and 90 years wrinkled.
My doubts don’t exist in your eyes.
You see the chipped edges
scars of failed attempts
places worn raw from not retreating.
The rough, abeyant curves of my puzzle.
You see my essence of spirit
gently hold it all up,
a mirror before me,
now I can see,
for myself,
who I am becoming.
Revised version of the original poem shared in 2016
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Please return the glass bowl
the one with the orange lid.
Surely it is empty now, alone
on the shelf or behind the rice jar.
It is not that I am in need,
I just found myself thinking
of its emptiness, a hollow of cold.
Loneliness I wish to fill with warmth of soup.
One spoon of comfort at a time
to refill yourself
on Tuesday night
after the day’s work is done.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
He brings me leaves, one each day
a contrast in shape
varied vibrancy, coral to ripe peach
left on the kitchen counter
until evening arrives at our window.
Held in his palm, this single
donation, color story of today.
Our eyes meet the wrinkles, textured hues, imperfect edges.
Our hands hold a temporary prize between us
a cherishing.
Trees give without expecting
something in return. Thankfully,
so does he.
© Ali Grimshaw 2016
May you find someone to share the beauty of nature with today. Happy Thanksgiving.
To lose you
would be a sea without waves
moan of Winter wind
outside as I lay cold in bed.
To lose you
would be the wilt of wildflowers
a bow of small heads around the globe.
My eyes squeezed shut
effort of not remembering.
To lose you
would be loss for those
yet to hear your hearty chuckle,
low and warm
its own kind of song.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Jump, leap, crawl and claw
there is a world outside
the hamster wheel.
You can step off, drop chains of thought
fall into peace.
Your forgotten power, remains inside,
no superhero costume
necessary.
Only willingness, rejection of old pattern,
refusal of squeaky wheel,
one step, to the side.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Rounded Barcelona 2017
Blurred branches of feeling
the intersection of “Not good enough,”
and “You fell for that again?”
awkward limbs that cross
and cross again in confusion. While inches
of growth reach, stretch toward light.
The turbulent angles discretely covered
by feathered orange deliciousness.
A fancy distraction,
just like my sunglasses and hat
a layer of colors,
the perfect cover up to keep
my crack of failure private.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
My poems, 32 Degrees and Bouncing Bullets, have been shared on The Drabble. This blog is dedicated to publishing original fiction, non-fiction, and poetic works of 100 words or less. If you enjoy creativity and concise writing this blog is for you. Thank you to The Drabble for creating and supporting a community of writers. Through poetry we can calm our minds, share the human experience and laugh together to keep our sanity.
Make it a beautiful day.
The first bowl of summer strawberries picked from my backyard.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 