A New Path

A New Path

To a new beginning he said
and this is often heard.
I wondered though
might it be another hill or valley;

not to forget river and ocean waves
All movements towards a goal.

A new path to wisdom and growth.

Quietly I admitted,
I should now be very wise.
Is that so? I giggle to myself.
How do I know?

Shall I write them down
all the bends and paths
all the hills and dips?
Then try and count.

I don’t really know

Maybe life will show
maybe we will be wise, listen and learn;
Treasure each chapter as it appears.

© miriam ivarson

Honour your Life

Honour your Life

It is our honour in life
To live fully every minute we are given,
To share our song, our gifts;
To feel the joy and strength within.

See the beauty even when we hurt,
When fear tries to take hold.
Feel gratitude each morning,
give thanks at night.

Banish fatigue the days,
the days it threatens to make us fold;
Just rest.
Hear the birds feeding and singing.

See deeply the beauty
The strength of the trees.

Standing there Sentinels
reaching for the sky,
with strength, stillness and serenity;

Life just is, sun and storm
Always Is.

© miriam ivarson

W H Y

W H Y

I feel pain, my tears fall
as pictures show the terror and angst,
of children, women and men
Bleeding, terrified, confused.

Their pain is indescribable and all this
Because of one mad and power hungry man.
How do these murderers get so far?

How did they get so many to obey,
Answer us now, why and how.

Did they follow this bully turned killer?
From the schoolyard and on,
are they so scared that a NO

might make them victims too?

Sun is shining this morning and I watch
people walking their dogs, children go to school.

It isn’t so difficult to live in peace
So Why?

© miriam ivarson

ON THE ROCK

ON THE ROCK

As I sit there on a rock
on the highest top.
Of a little island

surrounded by beauty of the sea

Looking round with a joy that hurts
I see the sea – surrounding me, hear whispers
From the wind talking to the sea and
from glistening rocks, smiling.

Seagulls and terns sail and swoop
with grace and joy, being their pure selves.
Me, I am transfixed to be, just now

part of this peace,
that fills my heart.

Lifting my arms to the sky, I speak
words I never known before
They seem to fill me – like the wind
that lifts the gull.

Scents of heathers drifting down,
Down the rocks
Filling every crevice, filling me.

© miriam ivarson

Let It Pour

Let it pour

They tell me, just write
wonder whether prose would be best,
How can a poem suffice, and yet

I am looking at a sky that shifts and delights
It can’t be captured with a click.
The colours transform and so do the shapes,
All ethereal but never the same.

And how can you portray the swifts flying
with such speed and delight,
Forwards and up and down.
Singly or in almost a murmur.

Suddenly the sun painted a few clouds
in delicate golds and purple,
I bet when I look up, they will change again.

I forgot to tell you about the winter trees
Stretching their dark branches high,
against the backdrop of eggshell and pink.

Would it be that we need to look more,
to drink it all in

to find joy, to find us.
Then let it pour out.

© miriam ivarson

Duty and Love

Duty and Love

Living a life of duty
with the one you profess to love,
Leaves a life without glory for both.

Love can never be faked
nor replaced with another coin;
Love fills all, creates.

Duty can protect, can repair walls
Love dances free, without a fence.

Duty can build castles and shelters,
also prison for spirit and soul.
Love can set us free.

It takes courage to follow love,
its breathtaking dance and trails.
Creating with truth and warmth.

© miriam ivarson

Little Leaf

Little Leaf

Good morning little leaf, so brave
spinning and dancing in the trellis.
For a month you hung on and still do
whilst your sisters and brothers fall.

What strength holds you steady
yet lets you dance so wild.
You encourage me every day.

It knows its time will come, until then
it will dance with the wind,

rest in the sun.

© miriam ivarson

VALIDATION

VALIDATION

Do we walk alone or in threes and fours
Seeking ourselves within friends?

Do we seek a soulmate to hold
and to be held. Keep the heart safe;
Although feeling it might brea
k?

Do we seek validation among the many,
Do we seek and give, love and care.

I heard the story about a man

He walked for forty years in solitude,
a hermit in the vastness of mountains and lakes
in different countries, yet all the same,
freedom and truth from the greatness arou
nd.

I would like to meet this man, hear his thoughts,
Did he find wholeness and peace?
Among mountains, lochs and lakes.
Does it get lonesome at all?

Could it be that we are part of both?
Craving solitude but also a friend.
Someone who would walk with us
through pain and joy.

© miriam ivarson

THE SUN

The Sun

The sun came up as it has since time begun
painting sky and earth in its glorious colours,.
Bewitched I stood there and for a while,
only did exist.

Looking down at my beloved Hibiscus
I told it that I felt sorrow too,
as its budding glories might not bloom;
Autumn was here and quite cold.

So the seasons go and we can but
follow their eternal song,
From spring, summer, autumn and snow.
Learning to embrace and be part.

Yet, the sun will always rise
Sometimes high and at times low,

As we greet this warming globe
Let us rejoice, not moan.

©miriam ivarson

Drunk on Joy

Drunk on Joy

Has it struck you at times, out in free open spaces
how very loud the little songbirds sing
how clear and distinct, from high trees near and far;
Yet their dome is the sky and walls don’t exist
.

How can their little bodies contain so much
strength, beauty and joy.
Yet, in between they work hard finding food;
Building nests and teaching their young.

I wonder if we think to much whilst they simply live,
rejoice in song and flight when work is done.
Or in between.

Imagine humans bursting out in song, just like that
without wondering if it is good enough, or worse
If you are drunk.

It occurs to me that it would be wonderful to be
drunk on joy and gratitude for being, here and now.

Sing and dance with happiness,
not being so correct.

© miriam ivarson