The Poet Community

Allison Grayhurst

Funeral | A Poem by Allison Grayhurst

The photograph of her face –
bold as one who knows herself completely –
as the bagpipes blew
and I could hear her voice
gently humming the tune.
There were strangers everywhere
in the crowded room of grievers and
in her daughter’s eyes. It was
only her
I loved and her I will miss.
She cradled the land ever so deeply
and dreamt elaborate and graceful worlds,
etched in the smoothest of stones.
She is shared by so many.
But for me, my love was personal,
and it is not so easy to hold
this severed vine of gold, not so easy to let go
of her rare and destined heart
that helped give shape to my own.

Visit Allison at http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.

—–
Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three times nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, she has over 1050 poems published in over 425 international journals. She has sixteen published books of poetry, seven collections and nine chapbooks. She lives in Toronto with her family. She is a vegan. She also sculpts, working with clay.

Into the Oil of Your Significance | A Poem by Allison Grayhurst

Bring me back
for I am lost
like a false thing kept on guard as truth.
I am an albatross thrown broken-winged
across the sea. I am pesticide touching lips.
The dead thing tied to my back is finding
a way in.
I found nothing holy on this shore.
I can barely keep afloat – my words are rotten,
my hymns are carried off by a storm.
The leap I took
has ended in disaster.
My dance has reached a conclusion.
My life is haunted. The rope
is pulled.

Visit Allison at http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.

—–
Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three times nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, she has over 1000 poems published in over 410 international journals. She has sixteen published books of poetry, seven collections and nine chapbooks. She lives in Toronto with her family. She is a vegan. She also sculpts, working with clay.

Difficult Neighbours | A Poem by Allison Grayhurst

It is hard enough to
relinquish privacy, to love
the tilted child running across
our lawn and shake hands with
the thinning curve of a shadow,
and yet by the standards demanded,
love must be most given when
the enemy appears, when the stone has hit the window
and the fence is knocked down.
Love must be that thing that rises
like a balloon above the forest fire,
and rises when every instinct bares its claws.
And we, the givers of the jewel have no excuse
to hate from inside closed doors,
nor to offer our smiles only when it suites us.
Now is the time spoken of, when the sandbox has
been robbed, when the treeline has been plucked,
and boundaries need to be set.

Visit Allison at http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.

—–
Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three times nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, she has over 1000 poems published in over 410 international journals. She has sixteen published books of poetry, seven collections and nine chapbooks. She lives in Toronto with her family. She is a vegan. She also sculpts, working with clay.

Months before Resurrection | A Poem by Allison Grayhurst

In the sea, I awoke,
wet, under the sun,
taken into time by
the lord of anxiety.
Grief and instability covered my skin
like the suction of an octopus’
tentacles. It held me, carried me down
below where the pressure is unbearable,
and strange fluorescent creatures thrive.
I landed on the sand-smoky floor, without
a spoonful of oxygen, murdered by an immutable force.
I died that day, chained to the nadir of my zodiac –
once a living woman, now chewed at by tiny mouths,
soon to fossilize in this wet, unsentimental grave.

Visit http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.

Once I Cried | A Poem by Allison Grayhurst

Once I cried
the conscious death,
reborn in the orb of humiliation,
mopping the slime off floors,
nausea permeating
the base of my spine.

Once I was trapped
in a wavering faith,
shifting like in a restless sleep
from nightmare to being awake.
My skin was caked in lime, scorched by
the unharvested dream.

The sky cracked quick as though
scissors sliced right through,
and the spell of suicidal defeat reshaped
into an era that was past and never to be relived.

The house door opened,
the sore removed,
the picture frame expanded
to encompass more
than I ever knew.

And now with rent unpaid
and time a driving axe,
the grass looks gold
as my dignity blazes
through the flood
like a beloved ship unchained.

Visit http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.


Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. She has
over 450 poems published in international journals and anthologies.
She has eleven published books of poetry and five collections, as well
as six chapbooks and one e-chapbook. She lives in Toronto with her
family. She also sculpts, working with clay.