THE PAINTBOX

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THE PAINTBOX

I opened the curtains and saw
Heaven spilling out colours,
the whole paintbox seemed to flow
Painting the sky

with abundance and delight.

Have I got enough colours in my box,
Could I also have a go?
I feel intimidated by the artwork above
Still, what fun to try.

Let the brain take a backseat, be like a child
Let heart and fun flow through the hand.
Fail, no I can’t;
Colour will be there
and who is to judge.

A flock of swifts fly bypass and say,
No failures if you follow your heart,
Follow your instinct and dreams.
Banish false pride.

© miriam ivarson

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H o l d i n g

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Holding

Holding steady, holding firm
Love and care binding.
Floating through air, on waves,
through fears and joy.

Holding, never let go.
That is what the dream showed,

what a dream to come true.

Caring, seeing, holding with respect,
never greedy. Forming a bond of safety,
a circle of love.
A circle unbroken by storm or sun.

Could this dream be reality
Could we divest negativity and angst?

Seeing deep into each other’s souls
knowing them as they were our own,
Real soulmates, forever friends.

Daydream or real, it is for us to decide.
How do we want to lead our lives.
What choices do we make?

© miriam ivarson

 

R e j o i c e

Starflower

R e j o i c e 

Stars from the night sky
Shine joyfully in plant pot
Sky and Earth rejoice.

©miriam ivarson

 

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So it was, this cool autumn morning I learn
that even in the smallest lies greatness.
Quietly and persistently telling about beauty,
about love and and peace.
How just to be, be who we are.

 

INNER GPS

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A book that changed my life years ago
is “Illusions” by Richard Bach. It still
has an honoured place on the special shelf
near my bed. 

I will not tire you with the exact events now
but time and time again a quote from this book 
will come to mind. So it was a few days ago.

The quote is:  ‘You are led 
                   through your lifetime
                   by the inner learning creature,
                   the playful spiritual being
                   that is your real self.’
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Inner gps

I lead you, I am your inner GPS,
yes, it is a steep hill ahead
and yes, there is a narrow ledge too.
You will be frightened at times.

Unexpectedly you reach a plateau
and in front of you is spread
beauty overwhelming and immense.
Valleys, river, woodlands and fields

in hues only music can convey.

you will want to run and sing. 
To dance, to sit and dream
maybe swim.

Clamour around will try to own you,
to confuse who is really you and true.
Fearing your inner playful soul,

wanting you to cling with them
to customs, safety and rules,
with no singing brooks
no smiles and laughs.

© miriam ivarson

Lake Bullaren

Photos by Miriam Ivarson

 

INTROSPECTION

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Introspection

As I sit here this morning
my bedroom flooded with Star light,
Yes, the glorious sun,
It silences many of my reflections.

Like, what does my soul look like and where
does it live?
Why does my heart quiver so often
seeing remarkable beauty or dark?

Yet, as I sit here in the golden light
I do no longer feel the need to know.
It is enough, more than enough
To just be.

To touch, see, feel with loving
the miracles surrounding me.

Suddenly I see, my soul is me,
the rest is chemistry, physics, biology
and marvellous they are;

As they let my soul traverse
The wonder of Earth and Stars.

© miriam ivarson

BRUSHSTROKES

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BRUSHSTROKES

with brush strokes light as feathers
I want to tell you about beauty
in a newly woken sky;
In a bird feeding his young.

In a woman’s graceful stretching,
her fingertips reaching high, just because.
Of glowing heather gracing my wall;

Caught by an artist with loving heart.

About the soft morning mist on the ground,
the neighbourhood slowly waking up.
Dogs taking humans for a walk – 
or is it the other way around?

About the stillness and grandeur of trees
that grace the territory;
Teaching us not to rush,
to respect nature and all therein.

With softest colours showing us gratitude,
gratefulness to Be, alive.
To love, most important of all.

Remembering those
who seen only dark shades so far.

© miriam ivarson

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White Dove and Rowan tree

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White Doves and Rowan Tree

Circling above, are
Snow White Doves
against cerulean sky.

Against red Rowan berries,
Tree so huge against the heavens.

How bravely they trust their wings,
Their precious gifts.
I dream my spirit would fly
with the confidence of their wings..

So I pack a little suitcase
With all courage I can find
and take to the air.
Suddenly I think of impossibility;

And the bag spills courage to the ground.

The birds perch on a rooftop so near,
telling me not to give up, how sweet.
I pack more courage and just go,
Not thinking at all.

This time I lasted a long while,
what glory and joy
To soar for a while and know,
just feel, fear and weight dropping off.

I will practice this soaring each day,
The white doves promised to help.
You are welcome to join should you wish.

miriam ivarson

 

 

CURLING EDGE

 

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CURLING EDGE

It is dying now, we might think
watching a leaf with a big brown speckle
and curling edges;
Suddenly though, it plays with sun rays,
and shines in gold and green

The brown fleck looks like a decoration.

Watching this Rose bush I also see
new leaves and late roses opening up.
Showing that new and old
in autumn, live together in beauty and harmony.

A Wren landing on a twig
adds to the great blessing this morning.

So it is that my first lesson of the day
also becomes my blessing,
Autumn is here with its shifting hues,
Cooler but certain of its purpose and rhythm.

C / miriam ivarson

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Dancing the Waves

 

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Dancing the Waves

With love and delight she moves,
skimming and dancing across the sea
Her skirts made from froth and wakes,
swinging and dipping,

Like a ball gown in a wild dance.

A wonder so to dance on a sunny day
or under a full, silvery moon,
Partner the skiff, by the tiller,
sensitive to every move.

Feeling her rush towards the horizon,
at times lifting her prow high to the sky,
As if wanting to join the birds.

Whilst sailing, dipping and soaring with ease
free from any ties.

Making us humans seem lumbered,
laden with weights
Both physical and of mind,

Yet our spirits can be free as the skiff
Can soar as the birds
Don’t let us forget as we use this wonder,
the wonder that is our lives.

Let the eyes shine clear cyan, blue or brown
sparkling bright of life loved and lived.

c/ miriam ivarson

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