A bit of my heart

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A bit of my heart

I send out, as I publish thoughts and dreams,
yet the heart remains unbroken;
being replenished,
filled
By the act of giving.

It is a moment of “knife-edge”, a friend said,
do you give or do you withhold,
take the risk of being misunderstood

Or just ignored.

Is it the fear of being unseen,
creating hesitation,

like a child building a castle of sand
wanting praise and smiles,
To be known.

Creating is a force within,
without outlet we burst;
Let it flow with abundance,
Never to be a chore.

It is enough if a soul or two
recognise each other,
find succour in the words.

Share song and tears
with free and trusting hearts.

© miriam ivarson

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PER UNIVERSUM

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Dear fellow scribblers, writers, authours and poets. Whichever title
we choose, we share the love of words and believe in their power.
We walk this beautiful Earth together – Star dusts as we are.

One, nowadays quite mundane experience we share, is the joy or stress
of economy short haul flights. I do fly many of these within Europe and especially to visit Sweden. Using the practice of non-thinking
mode helps. Just shuffle forward, stopping, shuffling…
Eventually sit down in your seat and visualize the relief of stepping off at the destination. 

It was on one of these flights that I unexpectedly experienced what 
became the poem “ Per Universum”. Such a quiet and smooth boarding.
What a blessing that flight was. 

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PER UNIVERSUM

I flow through universe,
It flows through me.
Can’t say where one starts,
Or did we always belong?

I am It and universe me.
extraordinary feeling, at 36000 feet,
safe and warm.

Three monks in row behind,
meditate.

Journey flows, in peace.
Universe is me, I am It.
Oh to keep this surety;
36000  below.

where  I meet problems, tempers,
unformed thoughts.
Yet mindful of angels on the path,

who also flow through universe,
In  tranquil unity.

They are everywhere
I see clearly;
We make up universe,
Angels with spirit
Clear and kind.

Through universe we flow
and It through us.
Ever increasing harmony.

© miriam ivarson

 

BAREFOOT GIRL

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“You are led
through your lifetime
by the inner learning creature,
The playful spiritual being
that is your real self.”

quote from Richard Bach

With this beautiful quotation as introduction I give you a poem which has two clear              
layers. Isn’t it true that we are led through our lifetime, from the seeming safety of our home villages or environments to seek and carve out our own life and adventures. We might fail many times and and try again.  Without searching I guess we would not know our own truth.

I would love to hear your responses.

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BAREFOOT GIRL

        Barefoot girl ran free
        her feet in harmony;
        In harmony with earth,
        with reality.

        She smiled with pure joy.

        Barefoot girl grew up
        she did good.
        Went to the city, 
        studied law; 
        She became an attorney.

        she smiled with success.

       Barefoot girl ran in high-heeled shoes
       she felt the glow of admiration,
       she had a Penthouse apartment.
       She had happiness,
       so she thought.

       Barefoot girl went home to say hi,
       she cried,
       Her feet no longer knew the earth.

      © miriam ivarson

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photos courtesy of Pixaby

Fountain of Youth

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Reading many wise thinkers’ thoughts about life, what 
gives lasting fulfillment and inner aliveness,  brought me to 
the question of retaining this fountain of youth. Of being 
fully alive.

To dare live here and now as Eckhardt Tolle teaches in his 
wonderful books makes us younger both physically and spiritually.
To feel each moment and not see it as a transport to the next.
By living so in our daily life, our faces relax and find the ease of
a smile. Strength to live life to the full and let our inner selves pour forth. To find clarity.

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Fountain of Youth

Does it really exist,
or is it a state of mind?
The thought came unbidden
as I walked,
along the ocean shore.

The waves from the Atlantic
relentless, forceful,
singing their eternal song;
Powerful, soporific
profound,

dynamic organ to gentle,
sweet percussions;
as my ears, my being tuned in
revealing a mighty orchestration.

Eyes filled with tears of joy
as the morning sun revealed,
nature in all its beauty,
Splendour and hues.

Feet delighted in the surf
as tides reached, caressed,
and at times unbalanced me
with their strength.

I found my smile again,
full and free
as gradually the Atlantic hymn
filled my soul, my ears,
My whole,

leaving woes and fears behind;
who earlier seemed invincible,
so strong;
Where now drowned
By unending sea.

You look so young
I heard every day;
your smile is so bright.
Could it be so simple, I thought?
Have I found along the shore,

The Fountain of Youth?

Letting frowns and worries
be erased by the ocean sound.
Bringing forth who I was,
who I am;

As I walk along
the smile fills my heart,
opens it wide.
The crashing waves are me
as are the shifting sands,
We are one and the same.

A feeling so boundless and free

© miriam ivarson

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A FLOWER TO BEHOLD

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To dream the impossible dream, is that what we do? All of us who believe in  harmony among people on our Planet?
Who dream of of peace for Earth itself?

I am a dreamer and in spite of some shrugging shoulders I intend to remain so.   

I have an inkling that the majority of people share this very  dream. It might seem futile to an observer of world events but we have to look closer at all who surround us in our daily life.
At all who join together in joys and sorrows. Who give a supporting arm when needed, a caring word for a fellow being, a smile for those we meet. 

We feel the bond that links us in spite of different world opinions. We inhabit this Earth, we need each other.

There is much cruelty in our world and sickness of mind. The more I observe people around me I am however convinced that the majority believe in the good in man and dare display it in their daily life

So let us make our voices heard, express ourselves, each in their own way.
Spread sunshine and hope where we go.

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A FLOWER TO BEHOLD                               

May all the world’s leaders
around the table,
Be given a flower to behold.
To study in silence, fifteen minutes or more,
its delicacy, serenity and peace;

Quieting anger and unrest.

Don’t let ego, hunger for power and greed,
stand in the way of creating a world,
Fit for all.
Listen to people of the world,
open your hearts, your souls;

Can you hear their hunger and dreams,
Hunger for beauty, peace, meaning and truth.

Allow us all to shine like the flowers,
in tune with creation;
End the wars, killings, cruelty.
Free every child, woman and man.

Embrace humility, quietness, love
so you can hear, can understand;
Abnormality of wars,
don’t trample on life
don’t crush it to death.

The alternative is grim;
Obliteration of this Earth,
Death to a wondrous gift.
To dust you will turn us all.

An appalling and shameful deed

© miriam ivarson

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CHURCH BELLS CALLING

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We are approaching the end of this year and readying ourselves to greet 2018, perhaps wondering about the joys and trials it might bring.

One sound that always plays a big role on New Year’s Eve is the Church bells. The idea of sharing my thoughts came whilst listening to the local Church atop the hill ring out every Thursday evening. Spreading quieting sounds mixed with gladness.

Every week the bellringers practice diligently. I always feel a certain awe and peace as the bells ring out across the villages and hamlets. A stillness falls among all the busyness. I hope many of you have the pleasure of hearing the same wherever you live.

Back to New Year bell ringing. I was going to send you a poem read each year in all cities and villages in Sweden. The squares are packed with people whilst at midnight the poem “Nyårsklockan” is read. I had until today thought this was a Swedish poem but looking for a suitable video I found that it is originally written by Lord Tennyson. 

A Swedish poet translated the poem and a few years after Tennyson’s death it became the big Swedish tradition. So the countries share the love for one great poem.

Hence you will understand that I am giving you this beautiful poem by Tennyson and make no attempt to write one myself. 

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Ring out, wild bells

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
   The flying cloud, the frosty light:
   The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
   Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
   The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
   For those that here we see no more;
   Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
   And ancient forms of party strife;
   Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
   The faithless coldness of the times;
   Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
   The civic slander and the spite;
   Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
   Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
   Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
   The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
   Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1809 – 1892
The poem was first published 1850.

 

FOR HAPPINESS

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For Happiness                        

Little things will suffice,
sun shining on the sea,
Night sky lit by moon and stars;
smile from beloved,
touch by caring hand.

Sharing of home-made cake,
music and dreams.
Baby’s first cry;
more precious than gold.
Soaring joy.

Young man creating, a headboard
from thick pallet wood,
sanded, glowing it stands;
showing love
For his bride and home.

Can we ever in words 
describe,
The sheerness, the depth;
of spheres’ song.

Deep happiness is such,
It soars and dips
whispers and shouts,

Morning mist across the fields,
Lit by rising sun.

© miriam ivarson

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DREAM OF LOVE

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The other morning I read the quote below by Khalil Gibran.

“ For thoughts is a bird of space,
that in cage of words may indeed unfold its wings
but cannot fly.”

This brought me up abruptly, I had dreamt that my words might    
help someone fly. Just as I know how often I read and feel my
spirit lighten and with a deep breath – fly. Above daily worries or
concerns.

So I debated gently with Khalil Gibran and put forth that whilst 
reading the words became thoughts again and could fly.

Well, the verdict is out but I do so hope I am right. You who take 
time to read this today are invited to be the judges.

Meanwhile I give you a little poem below.

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DREAM OF LOVE

With beautiful words you drew me in,
my heart thawed, buds opened,
to promises of rain drops, gentle and kind;
Of love and shelter from storms,

Wows to always be there, to love.
Light candles in the dark of the night,
sing lullabies;
Hold me when fears shook
petals that now dared bloom.

Alluring they are, these dreams;
Do they stand the test of time?
Beautiful words in the wind;
no foundation was built.

I now know, I would rather hold a hand
as I climb a stile,
a hand warm and firm,
a smile as we follow the path,

through woodlands, past lakes,
stopping in awe of hills afar.
So, don’t promise me the moon and the stars,
Just let me rest in your heart;

with your hand firmly holding mine,
your eyes and smile be the stars.

© miriam ivarson

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