Wade in the river

3335CE24-4D49-4D43-B198-C2664EA6CA47

Knee deep in, “I can’t believe I said that.”

Toes numbed by the cold reality

while echoed words play inside your head.

Let the current caress errors of grime

wash away the mistaken mud of this day

to return to the raw, tender tingle.

Step out onto the bank of clean sheets

let new beginnings drip from your feet.

© Ali Grimshaw 2019

d’Verse Poets Pub

Forgiving Connects – Forgiving Fridays

365 Pages of 2018 – a poem by Ali Grimshaw

IMG_0390

I wrote across
and down the page
sometimes diagonal doodles
to break through lines
that I refused, not willing
to be penned in.
Editing bled and tore through
to pages underneath.
Grateful for a thick tablet
layers of mistakes on the way to golden
this party called life, waking up
to attend, embrace the tousled mess
tumbles, triumph, trembles of love
that live outside of words.
The minutes are not guaranteed
savor this very one.

© Ali Grimshaw 2018

Each year I celebrate getting to live another year by writing a birthday poem. I hope this inspires you to author your life. What story are you writing this year? These bloggers have inspired my next chapter; Debbie at Forgiving Connects , Colleen at The Chatter Blog, Val at Find Your Middle Ground, Miriam at Out an’ About, and Brad at Writing To Freedom

Here is the link to last year’s birthday poem 365 Pages.

May love touch your day.

Ali

Phrases on Fire – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

image

Now I sit inside heated regret
what I wish I would have said

rapid words that flew off my tongue
like butterflies leaving my mouth

beautiful at first sight, fluttering
toward you. With closer inspection

upon landing, were really illegal
firecrackers of burnt red destruction

flames that left you singed speechless
while I coughed on my smoking impulsivity.

© Ali Grimshaw 2018
Rewrite of a poem from 2017

Fire Up Creativity—dVerse Poetics

ON A SPACE CALLED LAND

The voice of a poem can pull your feet from the muck and this one did so for me this morning. Therefore, I am sharing it forward with the hope that it free your feet as well. It comes from  SINGING HEART POEMS, STORIES & MUSINGS BY KAREM BARRATT

ON A SPACE CALLED LAND

And so it happens that we are all walkers:

Runners, joggers, skippers;

Trail blazers, some of us.

Path finders.

And that is the answer of the ages.

Of the “who am I” and “what am I doing here.”

We are machete wielders, creating

The path unique to ourselves,

To our laughter and our tears.

We are charterers of the unknown

Jungles that our lives are, similar

To many, yet different in every sense.

We do not travel the road less travelled:

We create the way.

We build the bridge, draw the maps,

Write the memoirs that the

Next generation will forget or

Misunderstand, because I am not

You, nor you I, and my yellow

Brick road is  blondish, buttery white,

Whilst yours is coppery gold.

And so, like the Spanish poet

Said, dear walker, there is no road.

The road is rendered by your feet when

You start your walk.

And that is life. And who you are.

A walker of dreams on a space called land.

By K. Barratt

Orbiting

Enlight69

she wished to glue

leaves of color back onto the limbs

unprepared for season’s shift

then her dormant suitcase looked up

with eyes of grace, a reminder

of past orbits around the sun.

© Ali Grimshaw 2018

Growth Spurt

In the dark kitchen while all lay asleep
I stood shorter than the countertop
determined to throw away my blanket of comfort
self worn to soft holding of me.

The mouth of the garbage can
that lived under the sink
hungry for layers of softness
swallowed them down easily.

My four year old self threw away weakness
like an explorer sailing to uncharted seas
I declared myself ready for the mystery of the grown up.

Without need for a fall back into security
how sure I was of my power to leave the shore
of my dearly loved comfort layer.

Where did the urgency come from
to stop leaning
depending on
go it alone without reliance?

Years later in my cold bed determined and proud
still I wonder why I needed to prove my toughness
hurry away from childhood.

© Alicia Grimshaw 2018

dVerse Open Link Night #226

unpuzzling the enemy

57FA6A00-5466-455D-AE3A-752BB65C334A

hate screams black in fear, with intent
to turn listener to stone or distraction

what you think is the opposition
dressed in defenses worn comfortably

is only,       just another
scared,       eyes-wide        and searching

no different than the face in
your bathroom mirror each morning

© Alicia Grimshaw 2018

Quadrille #61 – dVerse Poets Pub

Let me

fullsizeoutput_518

 

I will sing you comfort when your voice forgets the notes.

I will sing you a clearing to feel the warmth on your back.

I will sing you courage for days when you need to hear the music again.

I will sit in silence listening to your song

when you have forgotten it exists.

© Alicia Grimshaw 2018

Her Why

fullsizeoutput_468

 

It went around her neck, a symbol smooth of warmth

concise clarity, just enough weight to feel the ground

hold onto when her confidence didn’t show up for work.

 

It replaced her doubts packaged with strings of anxiety

long ago shipped on away. Her essential purpose

written to last, needed all of the available room.

 

The chain lay lightly on her chest, polished by her daily reaching.

She was never without it, the promise made for small faces

their eyes questions from a future she would never see.

 

© Alicia Grimshaw 2018

“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” – Nietzsche