HOLD THE HELM

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HOLD THE HELM

Fear, pride and joy filled my being
I was only eight when my father said;
Come here and stand on this box,
I will show you how to steer 
whilst I check the machines below.

The trawler was huge, how could he trust,
a little girl standing on a box?
I trusted him, but fear was putting up a fight;
Sure I can’t do this, look at the waves,
the enormous rolling waves.

Still, I listened to his instructions, drank them in;
Repeated the beacon to hold in sight.
Excitement and joy overtook me for a while
as the boat did obey my hands on the mighty wheel;

I could hardly believe; My pride grew miles.

Suddenly the vessel was shifted by waves,
my mark disappeared to the right,
Fearful I managed to steer back on course,
took a deep sigh but tension replaced trust.

Another big wave threw me off course;
Now the marker was to the left,
desperately I steered straight again,

I am afraid we wove a wavering path.

When finally, to my relief, my father came back
I was quick to relinquish the helm.

We turned our heads and looked at the path,
the swirling trail behind.
The path I had steered the ship, with my hands.
He smiled and gave me a hug.

You tried so hard but didn’t know how to trust,
the wave would bring you straight back,
Besides, I was always there and felt every move.

Keep your eyes steady on your goal
but relax as well
don’t forget to trust yourself,

also remember, I am always there.

Should a storm blow up, sail against it,
hold firm and ride it out,
Once it is over, return to your goal;
To your beacon.

Without fear continue your path,
Feel the harmony between yourself,
the sea and the sky.

© miriam ivarson 

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Never forget Love

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Never forget Love

Watching a craftsman one day
I was taken with his calm and skill,
how every sanding, sawing and nail
just seemed to flow from his hands;

Making me wonder about intelligence.

Often those with high degrees and titles
are set above the artisans and their crafts;
Above the unity of heart and action
whilst humming a tune

or working in silence, serene.

Intelligence comes in many forms
But Love only in one,
without which, all created becomes dust;
Knowledge without real life.

Passion and harmony give life to all you do,
to the surgeon’s knife, to the baker’s hands,
To the painter’s brush, to the welder’s torch;
Never forget Love. 

Healing where intellect still debates,
Creating whilst scholars frown.

At best, live in harmony with both.

© miriam ivarson

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THE STAR

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THE  STAR

I threw kisses at the roses
as they shone so bravely
on a cold December morning;
Making my heart sing,

as I polished the windows in readiness
for the Advent Star to hang and shine.
Preparing the table for the Crib
to stand serene, age old story to tell.

Every treasure transmitting love 
warm memories,
from childhood and on.

The joy from the girl I was – and am,
from the children of mine,
as their exuberance and fantasy poured,
also awe. 

In all this richness surrounding me
I saw the sorrows too and a whisper;

Cry my heart, cry
don’t fear your tears;
Smile my heart, smile
You are but twins within each one.

The strength of love won out, no space for tears,
as we rejoice in our creations, recognize our traditions
held in care and trust;

Sharing loving hugs

© miriam ivarson

Christmas star

CLOUDS VISITING

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CLOUDS VISITING

Today the clouds visited earth,
in sweeping and shifting gauze
they swayed teasingly back and forth;
I breathed its droplets as I walked.

Skin felt rosy and refreshed
I am not sure about the lungs,
earth was happy and renewed
Even roses came out and shone.

Sun rays gently warmed the air,
the gauze thinned here and there,
mystically revealed and hid
parts of trees, branches, gables and spires.

What a delightful morning it was,
so much intrigue this dance exposed;

Made me think of us, our lives,
often harried with worries, wanting,
seeing fears ahead that might never come;

Rarely letting each day be revealed,
each wonder and delight,
each difficulty to combat at the time.

But for now I am here,
seeing the mystic, the clarity.

© miriam ivarson

 

Conversation

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Conversation

Conversation is a flow of thoughts
of listening, truly listening,
response with the ease of ripples,
With the joy of a stream.

Let it be the smiles between you
and the tears too,
thus your hearts can meet
Sing in harmonies bright and new.

Your mind will want to play, so let it;
Care that the balls flying between
are soft and gentle.

Always mindful of listening to each word,
keep it still before the next throw.

Let there be quiet within whilst you digest,
kernels of truth and wisdom, let them sift;
Let them grow
whilst you rest in a forest glade.

There are shouts and angry speeches,
on media, podiums and private groups;
Don’t mistake this for conversation
suppression is a more apt sentiment.

So, please, join me by the clear stream
in joyful and caring commune.

© miriam ivarson

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BEGINNING

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BEGINNING

I brought a bottle of Champagne
to celebrate;
Today is beginning of the beginning
or beginning of the end.

Whichever, we were all there,
Life is good,
let us share what we have.
Sing joyfully today, 
it is;

Beginning of the end
Beginning of the beginning.

Whether you feast on turkey,
fish, vegan, is immaterial,
Even pumpkin pie is a beside;
Today is precious, it holds you now;

Let our words be born from love,
bickering banished along with snide remarks.
Smiles and laughs reigning supreme;

An autumn leaf just danced to the ground,
A baby bird was born.

© miriam ivarson

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WHERE IS IT NOW

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I wrote the poem / lyric below a couple
of weeks ago and smiled at its seeming 
childishness. Snippets of strong memories
we all have but what is this. A song? A poem?

Listening to people in America talk with such
glow about Thanksgiving and family togetherness
I revisited this poem and realised.
It is just that, praise and gratitude to a home 
and people who made it so warm and safe.

So, with this I wish you across the Atlantic a
Happy Thanksgiving and all of us gratitude to 
love given in any form.

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WHERE IS IT NOW

I once had a dream
such a beautiful dream,
But the dream flew elsewhere;

I now wonder, where is it now,
is the ether keeping it away?

I once had a doll from Aberdeen,
I loved her so dearly
She even could say ‘mama’,

I often wonder, where is she now,
did the loft fairy take her away?

I once had Red skiing boots,
they were so very new,
Smelled sweet and shone,

I wonder, where are they now,
are they still skiing, all red?

I once had a hut high among the rocks,
we built it ourselves,
It was a most wonderful place.

I just wonder, is it still there,
home for other young to dream?

All the treasures I once had
that gave me so much joy,
they still make me warm;

I only wonder, as they live in my heart
are they happy,
Knowing they are loved?

© miriam ivarson

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Discourse with Friends

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Discourse with Friends

I wish I could speak with animals
in their language or mine,
What a wonder to hear each one;

What would the lion have to say
or the bird in the tree?

I might be careful speaking to Crocodile,
when he says hello I might fall in;
He might choke.

Mr and Mrs Elephant are high on my list,
so huge, yet gentle and kind. 
They could tell how to rear the young;

Also tell about their fear of homo sapiens,
especially those carrying killing machines.
Their sadness and grief at bereavements,
losses of mothers, fathers and kids.

They ask why?

To comfort myself I walk into the sea,
play with the Dolphins and listen
to the bright and happy exchange.

Their spirits are high but there is a sadness too,
do you know what happened to our food?
So much is now harming our young – and us all.

Meeting Mr and Mrs Elk in the forest glade,
they said the same as the Elephants,
also added, do you know why?
What could I say?

Mankind is yet not enlightened enough,
can’t understand;

The Sanctity of Life.

© miriam ivarson

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T I M E L E S S

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TIMELESS

are the Spheres’ whispers and music
the moon and the stars.
Among all noise and commotion,
the heavens just serenely are;

Spreading life giving light and warmth.

Timeless,
the word floated past this morn
tickled my spirit and tongue,
a delicious word
What does it mean to you or me?

I don’t doubt the timelessness
of oceans and seas,
Believe they will always hum and roar;
Their soothing, eternal and rhythmic song.

Whilst storing heat for our Earth.

The sky above, so exhilaratingly vast,
star studded at night.
I am sure it will always be
Timeless, beautiful, filled with mystery.

As to our beautiful, shimmering Earth,
how will it stand the test of time?
Our husbandry is awry and must improve
May we find harmony with the planet we love.

What about us humans, will our love, thoughts,
Creativity of all kind,
be a timeless force
forever drifting in the ether and inspire.

© miriam ivarson

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Compromise

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COMPROMISE

Will it shatter our dreams
or is it at times the only way?
To reach the ultimate,
should we walk a straight or a winding route?

Noticing how the old horse and cart weaved
a route with so many bends;
Still, he reached the dream and destination
of the traveller he carried abroad;

With some fun compromises thrown in.

As I drive our straight and black motorways
without compromise leading to my goal,
little sensory distraction on the way;
I wonder which route, was most humane?

A little compromise here and there
to smell the sweet clover or bypass a hill,
enjoy a picnic, listen to nature around.
Compromise or plan, it is our choice.

At the end, might it depend on the dream?
For some it is the journey, the lesson within,
for others, the dream to reach and expand.

No rights or wrongs as long as we are true,
True to our dreams and let compromise be part.

© miriam ivarson

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