Thank you Right Hand Pointing

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I am honored to have my poem, Absent, in the current issue of Right Hand Pointing, Issue #135 Sneak Attack.Thank you to Dale Wisely and Laura M. Kaminski for sharing my voice. Since 2004 Right Hand Pointing has been providing a fulfilling combination of short poetry, very short fiction, art, and other things. I have been inspired multiple times by their past issues.

Tomorrow – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

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We can not walk

without placing our

feet upon a past life.

Leaves layered, give

way to decay

to nourish the next.

What ground can I

cultivate with shelter

for those neglected seeds

that are tomorrow’s hope?

© Alicia Grimshaw 2019

Thank you Howard – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

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Without you, Howard

I may have forgotten

these ten fingers of mine

are printed like no other.

 

Like a tree with many sturdy limbs

who has forgotten

that it gives shade to smaller ones

where nests reside holding blue eggs.

 

Don’t ask what the world needs.

Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it.

Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

– Howard Thurman

Threads – a poem by Ali Grimshaw

Thank you to Amethyst Review for sharing my poem, Threads. If you are a poetry lover please give this site a visit.

Amethyst Review

Threads

I am
just one
frayed
wound tight
coarsely made
tested by force
twisted resiliency
bound to others
strained with weight
threatened by blades
mended from attention
unequally created companion
equally essential thread
of the human fabric
crafted with care
weakened by wear
the loss of one
compromises
the whole
tapestry
to tear.

Ali Grimshaw is the author of Flashlight Batteries, https://flashlightbatteries.blog/ a poetry blog for those struggling in darkness and tough times. Her poems have been published in Vita Brevis, Poetry Breakfast and Ghost City Review.

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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