C o u r a g e
This Poppy talked to me
About giving, about courage
as it made its home in a crack in a wall,
which surrounded a church.
A village church
800 hundred years old, so I am told.
The brave Poppy seed liked the warmth,
the peace and the sun.
Found enough earth and settled down.
Now, here I stand and feel deep harmony
as the Poppy’s fragile petals gently move in the breeze.
Its joyful colours smile.
What light it brings.
© miriam ivarson
Object D’Art
Together they mingle in harmony
the arts, bursting from souls
no longer suppressed or withheld.
Paintings of peace in flowing hues,
some in colours of grief.
Same with legends from Wordsmiths,
at times withheld too long;
Now telling their drams and truths.
The sculptor who this moment created a vase
so smooth, glazed in natures hues.
To tell about the many creative forms
would keep us here too long,
First, lest we forget. Always listen,
Listen to your heart.
Without love and passion
all art is just delightful objects d’art.
© miriam ivarson
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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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