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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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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The Rock

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The Rock                           

I laid down on a rock,
large, smooth, pink granite,
warmed by the sun.

Timeless energies from the rock,
enveloped me;

Soothed my muscles,
received my pains.
Gave ease, relaxation and peace.
A glow spreads within, 

The birth of joy.

The sound from the sea
Joins the symphony,
waves rhythmically lapping the shore,
Singing their eternal song.

I drift into altered consciousness,
of wholeness and clarity.
A sweet voice says “are you o.k.?”
Blessings are complete.

With a smile I rise,
we continue to throw.
Pebbles that skip on the waves.

© 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

 

CANDYFLOSS LIGHT

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Candy floss Light

The powerful display by masters
by setting sun over snow and dark wood,
In shadows, on light drenched ground
How can one wish for more;

In silent awe I sit with a friend
we whisper quietly our awe,
To talk loud seems a sacrilege,
in this Temple not built by man.

For a while the snow had taken
hues of bright white with diamonds aglow.
With light blue shades
and deeper blues, like a fathomless lake,
shadows the mighty forest threw;

As sun sets further, colours of candy floss,
soft pink coloured the snow,
Lit it as from within, such eerie light,
against black-green  forest behind;

The sun sank into the sea,
Light still glowed
As now the full moon lit the scene,
even she was pink.

@ miriam ivarson

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And one photo just to make you smile and wish you a Happy Weekend.

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Photos by miriam ivarson

THE MATCHBOXES

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I had this poem ready to publish on Saturday morning but suddenly
found myself in my very doubting Thomas mood.
What am I giving? A sweet story from childhood.

My spirit got low and I got a feeling of meaninglessness when I 
listened and looked at events in the world.
This planet we say we love but yet destroy.

If it was lack of scientific knowledge we could be forgiven but can 
complacency for the sake of earning more money be forgiven.
Consequences are known but hidden in strongholds. After all, we will 
all be gone when the worst events take place. Our children, grandchildren and future generations are left to deal with the result.

Then, for some unknown reason I read a poem by “Ella Wheeler Wilcox:
‘To sin by silence, when we should protest, makes cowards out of man”
Reading up about this woman I was in tears and you can understand why
I felt doubts about what I am writing. Although I have attempted poems on this subject in e.g. “Flower to behold”, I feel we all can say it stronger and with passion. Believing so matters.

Meanwhile I will after all post my peaceful poem as we also need to know what is important in life. 

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THE MATCHBOXES

I remember him clearly, my gamlefarfar
though I was only five, six and seven;
First memory to enter my conscious being
is one of happiness and warmth,
His eyes glinting like sun on sea, with mystery,
as they rested on me. 

I was told he is my gamlefarfar,
that didn’t mean much to me;
It does mean he is my kin.

I know I will find him in his treasured workshop,
slowly I open the door, he waves me in;
On the workbench are placed
some matchboxes,
I know they are for me,

excited I walk forward
give a curtsy, as our eyes speak,
His with humour and love,
mine shy and happy.

He has tought me to build
out of match boxes,
furnitures for my tiny dolls;
he left out paint and glue;

Happily I set to 
using fantasy and dreams
all the while feeling his warmth.

He smokes a pipe ever now and again
whilst creating woodwork so grand,
I am in awe and keep quiet
as not to disturb,
but often I catch his eyes on me, with that glint.

As his pipe burns out,
we work together 
in total harmony,

I hope he also will tell me a tale.

© miriam ivarson

gamlefarfar = great grandfather

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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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BUBBLES RISING

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BUBBLES RISING

Laughter and stillness,
a powerful blend
creating song in harmony,

expanding our deeper Self
Pure cymbals in hallowed room.

May we guard these gifts
keep them bright and true,
Free from discord and pretense;

Laughter ascends from the soul
stillness the pure mountain pool,
Where bubbles can rise

Transparent and true.

© miriam ivarson

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