H U S H

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HUSH

Stillness, oh stillness you can touch
The morning sun a red-gold globe
Seemingly hanging in the trees,

A hush that wraps all in its arms.

Birds of all kinds are flying, swooping,
are they purely having fun?
Are they thrilled by the hush?

Ancient memories triggered within
about life on Earth.

The air is a heady elixir
tasting of plants and herbs,
In reverence I stop and feel awe.

Could it be so simple and so difficult,
A spring clean of the whole Earth?

Of oceans, forests, cities and air
What a joy and peace each day could be.
I am sure Earth would help with delight.

Smiles and kindness would again light
faces that for long been sad and drawn.

We need our scientists to help,
with imagination, intuition and skills;
To build what doesn’t harm but support.

© miriam ivarson

Walking in the Wood

 

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Walking in the Wood

Walking in the wood this morning
as the sun painted the sky,
I looked, listened to
Life being reborn.

Buds were bursting and clapping hands,
little timpani filling the air.
The reeds around the pond would not be outdone,

they rustled delighted
Brushes on drums.

Birds, I love them, took centre stage
with a full choir singing praise;
to life, to heavens, to all.

Sheer joy.

I saw ants building nests,
very busy they were.
Even wasps droned drunkenly around
finding a flower or two.

I sat down on a stone and dare swear,
the air did also sing
as it gently nourished my skin.

© miriam ivarson

 

 

Primordial

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Primordial

My heart is quiet now
Not a skipping brook
nor a flowing river;
Nor the Songbird I know.

Glimpses light up, reminders,
like the Starling outside my window
the violets in the sun.
So much beauty, why then not skip?

Earth is recovering from our sins
We are now the prisoners thereof,
The sky is clear, air tastes sweet,
Waters run blue again.

The stillness, the calmness
the trees show to me, as they raise
their branches to the sky.
No thoughts of fear, just being.

Being their strong, primordial selves
Being part of totality.

© miriam ivarson

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R E T R E A T

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R E T R E A T

The word evokes peace
A choice to find harmony, stillness;
Calming the jumbled, twisted knots
finding the kernel of who we are.

Ordered isolation carries fear,
The fear we all feel at times,
fear of unknown, of loss, of death.

We lose sight of light, of ourselves.
Forget inherent strength
Forget we can love and laugh.

Retreat has a garden, flowers and birds,
All just live and trust.
Could we learn deep hope?

Isolation sounds like prison walls
maybe the word invokes more fear?
The spirit of man will win through,

As the beautiful songs from windows,
Along a street in Italy;
Made me believe in the essence of man.

© miriam ivarson

PESTILENCE

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PESTILENCE

Panic, fear, angst and helplessness
spread like fire around Earth.
I wonder, has earth had enough;
Enough of selfishness, of greed.

With insolence man has poisoned
air, ocean, forests and land.
Our planet has sent warnings,
with little effect so far?

A microscopic microbe arrived,
Became an enemy, hidden and strong.
No radars, weapons or anger help.
Stupefied we stand.

As we fight for survival, I hope,
pray the lesson finally is learnt.
Mother Earth is alive,
We need to live in harmony with her.

Many have spoken out
not least a bright young girl;
Told us truths and facts,
Is it too late?

Can a serious turn save our lives
and that of Earth.

As forests are burning
Oceans choking along with whales
Our air suffocates our lungs and land,
Will we pay heed?

I so wish we would,
Let science and heart go hand in hand
Let love be the light to lead.

© miriam ivarson

DIGNIFIED

House

DIGNIFIED

I saw him again this morning
Coming out from his home with it’s shiny black door
A little shopping bag in his hand.

He looks stately this man, dressed with care,
Tall and proud he carries his years.
At times his wife will come, she looks frail
but so very loved.

Together they give warmth to the neighbourhood
make people behave more dignified.
On returning with his bag full, he is often stopped,
so many want to say hello and how are you and more.

Have wondered if I should cross the expanse
walk the road and say hi to the man and his wife.

Do you think they would like to come for tea
with scones and clotted cream.

© miriam ivarson

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SOFTLY

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SOFTLY

they fall upon a hungry ground,
snowflakes filled with dew.
So slowly, so gently they wake
grasses and plants.  Feed them

blessings from the sky.
As together Earth and snow create
A season of awakening, of new life.

The feed from above settles lightly
on my newly created lawn,
I say, thank you for the blessing
Knowing the grass will smile with the sun.

So gently we are all bound together
a creation of love and life.

© miriam ivarson

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The Contemplative

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The Contemplative

In the whisper you find yourself
The contemplative being within,
seemingly fragile, needing peace;
Always striving for space.

In a world where storms roar,
created by nature and mankind
We need to find a temple of calm
where clamour can’t rule.

With no haste, the room is there
bide your time within.
Rising with the morning rays,
The Contemplative smiles.

It was always there, the space,
Let the wonder of light and colour
be the decoration of your special room.

It is within you and me,
within all who want to see,
Access the depth of ourselves
Of nature and life in all form.

© miriam ivarson


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