DOUBTING


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DOUBTING

Are we ever good enough to create,
be it in writing or paint?
Doubts that seems like a plague
or might it just make us strive?

Strive to create our utmost, our best.

Does a seed ever doubt itself
as it falls to the ground?
Does it feel small and inferior?
I believe it just does sow.

Follow its purpose and beauty on Earth.

Yet mankind seems doomed to hesitate,
to doubt, belittle and judge;
In lieu of fulfilling gifts we have.
Even the masters suffered this scourge.

Yet their creations lifted others high
Often after they left this Earth,
still doubting themselves.
That is sad.

We might be amateurs or maybe great,
Few will know …
Until after they are dead.

I do hope we all then can smile
wherever we are
and be content with our work,
The light it could spread.

C/ miriam ivarson 

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LITTLE HOUSE

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LITTLE HOUSE

I dream of you, long for you
Need you;
Little house near the sea.
With passion I long to enter,
to open that door.

There might be cobwebs and spiders,
still, straight through the hall and room;
Floor to ceiling windows flood the house
with light from sun and sea.

I drop my bag, abandoned it lays,
quickly walk up to the light. My heart melts,
A smile grows and tears run.

I found you, found you
my whisper says,
we belong. I feel at peace and complete.

Having wandered long, seen much,
learnt, laughed and cried;
Now I need harmony and peace.

Dear Little House, I will make you glow
like you made me,
so out comes buckets and tools
I start working whilst singing along.

As all is finished and glows
air streams in through the door,
the door to the deck facing the sea.
Do I need to say more?

Pulling up a little table and chair
to the windows, that now
shine and gleam,
sipping coffee just brewed;
The van won’t be here in quite a while.

So, I greet my beloved sea gulls and terns.

Then to my surprise a Goldfinch lands
on the windowsill.
He is beautiful and I wish he would stay;
Although he loves bushes and trees.

Settling in this house I dreamt,
among birds and creatures of the sea,
I will not forget, my dear winged friends
in the dreamy garden where I lived.

How could I, they enriched my life.

Should you ever pass my way
please remember to come in,
there will always be a welcome for a friend.

© miriam ivarson

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G U I D E

 

Music, the language that crosses all barriers.
What would we do without it? Some have to and
I hope they will hear it deep within.

One of my passions is music and I had Utube playing
yesterday. I saw and heard a new song come up by name
of GUIDE. I listened with delight to this quite new and 
young composer and thought of how lately I have written
about guidance in different forms.

With this in mind I changed my usual post pattern and
decided to share the song with you with my words underneath. 

Gently and sweetly they fall,
each note a glittering raindrop;
with joy they lead me forward
Then with great release rise and soar.

All the time with harmonies and rhythms,
incredibly enticing and with surety;
Yes, Guide is such a perfect word
I say to myself as the end is reached.

Leaving me wanting more

© miriam ivarson

 

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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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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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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BREATHING

 

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Mr Owl above, wisely tells me that we teach best what we need to learn.
An old adage I tell him but admit I don’t always listen. Hmm …

The first and most spontaneous gift at birth is the breath.
Yet, we often manage to mess even this up. Makes me both laugh and cry,
are we both too clever and too ignorant?

Either way, this little poem presented itself and perhaps I am not the only one
to recognise this phenomenon of breathing.

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BREATHING

to the rhythm of the waves,
To the sounds of strong winds
through the forests and glades;
The sighing of reeds by the lake.

Letting breath flow deeply and easily
in harmony with them,
Replenishing body and mind.

Our lives begin on Earth with the first breath,
it ends with the last;
Thus follows that we should nourish and fill
this precious vessel, this gift,

With oxygen freely supplied from each tree,
from all living nature.

So walk straight, fill the lungs
make every cell sing,
with the fervour of a little bird;

At night let easy cadency sustain.

Our heartbeats will slow, to the pulse
of a two stroke diesel;
As it propels the skiff at sea.

All it takes is to be,
in tune with the Whole.

c/ miriam ivarson

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Harmony and Discord

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As I fold and seal the poem below
into a turquoise bottle and toss it in the sea,
in the ocean that carries our words and thoughts;
I make a wish that it will reach some of you.

Please know, I now feel there is another poem,
a poem about how nature remained,
so true to its ancient self.
All the wonders of strength were there.

The sea, the bluest sky, the shimmering rocks.

Yes, I will tell you about that – another time.

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Harmony  and  Discords

Was it so simple then
when I was a child, I ask myself;
Waking to the seagulls sounds,

as they happily greet the morning
soaring and sailing high above.
My heart feels lonely. lost,
there is so much sadness around;

Where once I felt simplicity and joy.

So many worries to attend
so much sorrow in many hearts;
I just wanted to sit by the sea
By the old cafe on the wooden pier;

Recalling the simplicity of life.

I listen to discords and angst,
my heart cries and I cannot sleep,
fearing the dark valley, these whipped up storms

Where is the harmony,
The simple belonging to life.

© miriam ivarson

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