Poetry

Axis Tilt

~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 7 Comments

Could this be the final day

of an autumn that I thought would last?

A mellowing of red between us

once crackling emotions now dust bits

collected in a whirling dervish

carried away in the wind.

Now I am an empty street waiting

for the street light to click on.

Predictable and ever awed

by the chance

to begin again.

© Ali Grimshaw

 

 

 

 

 

Seeking a Brain Transplant

~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 5 Comments

Coveting the minds of others,

organized, tidy, following clear roads.

Traveling to a chosen destination

efficiently arriving on time.

Dreary, weary, defeat haunts her

relapsing into the darkness of a mind off course.

Moving toward an endless horizon

without a line between earth and sky

to distinguish

what hole she fell into

this time.

© Ali Grimshaw

 

 

 

 

 

Traversing Together

~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 17 Comments

Head down, back bent,

climbing back into yourself

fear perspiring on your forehead.

Looks like you could use a lift.

Travel forward with me

I will steer for awhile.

You can coast.

I will pedal out the questions.

You can consider answers.

Life can be different

on a bicycle built for two.

© Ali Grimshaw

 

 

Shedding Shame

~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 10 Comments

Despair for the moment to come

willing my body to enter the room

a mountain of mortification on my back

facing those faces

being seen while craving camouflage.

Owning the me that showed up today

failure and intention,

with a disappointing lack of action.

While seeking an empty seat I am

investigating the ability to shed my skin,

to start fresh. Becoming

a blank slate that holds

not a bit of old chalk dust.

© Ali Grimshaw

 

 

 

 

 

 

Exiting The Maze

~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 6 Comments

She could think about something else

a distraction from the pain

another new form of an old approach,

all temporary fixes,

that will return her to the same spot in the maze.

Unfortunately familiar torment.

Hands clenched to aching,

nails biting skin,

jaw clenched.

Her body’s defiance to the status quo.

Suffering unnoticed by a hurried world.

“Not this time.” She whispers. “This time

I will make my own exit.”

© Alicia Grimshaw 2016

 

Below 32 Degrees

~ Ali Grimshaw ~ 6 Comments

The quiet between us

like floating icebergs

tongues frostbit into stillness

is it that we have forgotten what to say

misplaced our formula to speak,

a habitual slow retreat to safety?

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

I am uncertain how to start the

defrost cycle.

© Ali Grimshaw