Lull – a poem by Ali Grimshaw

fullsizeoutput_947

 

Leaves play tag in the breeze
as cars chase green lights.
I am the only stillness
in the city this hour.

Living without permission
no need to ask, “Am I allowed?”
The leaves don’t ask to dance
down the cracked sidewalk.

I grant myself this moment
this sunlight soak before
winter darkness.

© Ali Grimshaw 2017

She – a poem by Ali Grimshaw

img_2174

She learned to take herself
out of her body, to separate
no longer be encased by flesh.

She learned to go, bundle her spirit
carry it out and away, above the invasion
the uninvited intolerable penetration.

She learned numbness, not to be
within her skin, to pack up her
soul and exit, just until it was over.

She learned how,
survival was her teacher.
It was the only way.

She didn’t know help
with mouth stitched closed
only endurance walked with her.

© Alicia Grimshaw 2018

Fall Will Catch You – a poem by Ali Grimshaw

image

Painted leaves sing in unison
Unlike music, their song
is soundless harmony.

This orchestra of color
soothes the tempo
an internal pounding

from a day of instruments
that refused to play
the same song.

Fall catches me
with muted volume
a serenade of equilibrium.

© Alicia Grimshaw 2018

If Poets Ruled The World

 

If you brought poetry to your exhale

how would you breathe?

If you brought poetry to your cooking

how would it taste?

If you brought poetry to your singing

how would it sound?

If we brought poetry to the conversation

what would we hear?

Would we notice the moan of wind outside our arguments

that the water from the pipes is at a trickle, our absent neighbors

don’t stand in the front yard anymore, weeds thrive

overtaking the edible garden, while last year’s birdhouse

remains empty? A muffled fear

like cotton balls in our ears.

 

If I lived poetry

could I see the heart

underneath your skin?

 

© Alicia Grimshaw 2018

“Poetry, whether the writing itself is explicitly political or not, always seeks a better way to respond, to think, to live.” – E. Ce Miller, writer, journalist

Sharing this great quote from Moorezart

 

 

 

Ripe – a poem by Ali Grimshaw

 

A27CB7AA-60FD-46C0-B95C-4AD8BDA55D12

organic prizes tended affectionately

primed by summer’s passionate heat and BB King’s blues

quenching warmth, a gathering of sunlight kisses

red ripe to tango with your tongue and mine

slip into my backyard to delight in this tender flesh

this ready to please moment soon closed for the season.

© Alicia Grimshaw 2018

dVerse Poetry Pub

42754D3D-2543-4C3A-90EE-833330966830

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