
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017

© Alicia Grimshaw 2017

You look but don’t see
me. Within your view
invisible to your eyes.
Discomfort or unconscious
choice. I cannot be a character
in the story of your world.
Revisit the snapshot
years later, silhouetted,
my image lives.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
Photo taken in Lucca, Italy 2016.

Random thoughts collect in her hair.
Ideas shed by passers by
printed in fonts, large and small
nestled in her curls.
Within the crowd ideas conflict
like a crash of cymbals.
She swallows them all
continues to shift the molecules
search for a new formula
that makes sense.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
knocked down
like a tree after a storm
my trunk horizontal
broken limbs at odd angles
body left with jagged holes exposed
pieces scattered near and far down the lane
some parts even seem to have disappeared
now I think I understand how humpty dumpty felt
there isn’t a way to put the pieces back together
it is time to start again
look for fertile soil
plant myself where sunlight will reach me.
I am grateful to VerseWrights for sharing two more of my poems today. Follow the link to find them. VerseWrights is a wonderful online poetry journal. I especially enjoy listening to the PoetryAloud section. There are so many poems to listen to and it gives me a sense of comfort to connect with another’s words.
We all have gifts to share. Please keep shining your unique and essential light in the world.


The sky
it is never not there
will not leave a note goodbye
to disappear in the night.
Serenely blue, growl of gray
watercolored clouds a tumble
dependably ever-changing, yet
never forsaking.
When the curtain goes up at sunrise
a steadfast performance
worthy of an audience.
Don’t miss the show.
No tickets necessary.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
#Loveuary Challenge – Celebrating today with a love poem for the sky.

When the last leaf has fallen,
and I am left on my own,
my sorrow will have no company.
You took the colors with you.
You took the colors with you,
my questions left alone in the air.
Bleached silence, no reply.
I gave away too much again,
White walls with no solutions,
an empty palette in my hands.
© Ali Grimshaw
After I posted the above poem printed in red. The Original Phoenix asked me this question, “How do you find the new colors?” What a wonderful question to consider. Today I dedicate this expanded poem to her for inspiring me to dig deeper and bring the rest to life. Although I still didn’t answer her question, I continue to ponder it. Thank you! Check out her blog, CONFESSIONS OF A REBORN GIRL. Never underestimate the power of offering feedback. We all need each other.
Out of an infinite number of stories ending this year
how lucky am I to continue mine.
To understand, as I didn’t before
how to see the next blank page
author what is left.
To smear the words by numbing
or battle to awaken the next chapter,
an internal fight rekindled by rewrites.
Still awed by the power of dusk to soften the view
I choose to attend this party called life.
Many minutes are not guaranteed.
I savor this very one.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Each year I celebrate the gift of getting to live another year by writing a birthday poem. This is my poem for 2016. I don’t have the words to clearly express the layers of learning, global connection and inspiration I found by jumping into the world of blogging this year. Thank you to WordPress for making it possible and to the many, many kind bloggers who offered support. I am honored to have a poem chosen by the Drabble as one of the top ten editor’s picks for the year. Ten of our favorite Drabbles of 2016. I hope this inspires you to share your voice in 2017.
Discover Challenge – Retrospective
Slanderous words,
sharp and sticky abound.
Potentially murderous voices shoot out
yet ricochet off the innocent assemblage
surrounded by love, like bubble wrap.
A deadly collection of letters,
bouncing back to their owners.
While the souls remain
cloaked in truth,
“Those words aren’t us.”
No need for bulletproof vests to repel them.
Let them decay on the street
the street cleaner will dispose of them
before morning light.
© Ali Grimshaw