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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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

 

T I M E …

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TIME…

So linear and confined
I am told,
and it does seem true;
Yet I think of all the skips,
all the turns,

the flowing river makes
as it twists and bends,

from its origin as a newborn brook;
down mountains
through valleys
weaving its way,

until finally it merges
with the mighty river below
strong in its purposeful flow;

Letting us be streams within
meandering as we go.

We calculate our progress 
in years and days,
following the calender prescribed;
Not the rhythm of the moon or sun,

Some panic, they fear the big 0,s.
I say, it is just another day and night,
if you wish, tell your friends
you took another stream,
so they have to wait with the balloons

another year or so;

Whilst we twist and turn, leap and sing
before joining ocean so vast and deep,
becoming part of the whole.

© miriam ivarson

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photos by Miriam Ivarson