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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Compromise

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COMPROMISE

Will it shatter our dreams
or is it at times the only way?
To reach the ultimate,
should we walk a straight or a winding route?

Noticing how the old horse and cart weaved
a route with so many bends;
Still, he reached the dream and destination
of the traveller he carried abroad;

With some fun compromises thrown in.

As I drive our straight and black motorways
without compromise leading to my goal,
little sensory distraction on the way;
I wonder which route, was most humane?

A little compromise here and there
to smell the sweet clover or bypass a hill,
enjoy a picnic, listen to nature around.
Compromise or plan, it is our choice.

At the end, might it depend on the dream?
For some it is the journey, the lesson within,
for others, the dream to reach and expand.

No rights or wrongs as long as we are true,
True to our dreams and let compromise be part.

© miriam ivarson

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I RAN

 

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I  RAN

Fit as an athlete of body and mind,
I ran,
faster and harder every day.
To reach and achieve, what? I ask today;

Stopping for quick breaks to see and breathe,
heather, the Sea, meadows and snow,
Only to return to the run.

It was fun at times but what about the soul,
no time for it to fully live, to sing;
No time for the body to know the breeze.

I knew but pressed the knowledge down,
Thought I had to run.
Until one day a shot hit my neck;
in and instant I crumpled to the ground.

the structure crashed down,
Now, the ambulance ran.

Against all odds I survived,
It took time, I learned new truths,
or were they the old?
finally getting space and time,

As I no longer ran.

A picnic by the shore, sensuous and slow,
I saw, really saw,
the sky, the sea and shifting sands;
The colour displays took my breath away.
Time didn’t have a meaning, just Now was life.

Walking instead of running, seeing wonder in all,
Like a newborn child,
I promised never to lose that again
even if I learnt to run.

I lost a lot that day but now wonder,
Did I not gain even more?
The time to write a poem in the morn;
Or listen to a frightened man,

To feel the blessing and joy of giving comfort,
of connecting with those needing support;
To find the positives born from pain.

© miriam ivarson

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MEADOW GIRL

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MEADOW  GIRL

Your eyes shine bright like rays of morning sun,
your smile sweet as soft rain on summer grass.
How I dream to behold you each day;
Maybe taste those lips with time.

I saw you again this morning in the meadow field,
arms stretched, greeting the sun;
Maybe I could write her a verse, I thought
Although I am no Shakespeare, Donne or Keats.

So I walked down the bluff, to the sea
picked seashells and stones in many colours,
they were exquisite and shone in the light;
I placed them all in a big leaf.

With courage I walked to the Meadow girl and said;
My name is John, would you please accept this gift,
so simple, only pebbles and shells.
They each shine like you.

Thank you John, said the meadow girl,
Would you please sit for a while.

© miriam ivarson

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Lattice work against the Sky

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Lattice work against the Sky     

Against deep blue sky,
little gold coloured leaves
hang on, shivering in the wind.
Beauty in all seasons
is the Birch.

In the morning sun 
I saw purple blue Clematis,
Turned to shining,
golden, feathery balls.
Their beauty struck my heart.

Many things turn to beauty in death,
hadn’t much noticed before.
Butterfly clams on a warm strand
in life so little, so fast,

turn to glowing butterflies
when they die.

So it is that the Birch,
from tender gold/green
Through the seasons delight.

Naked again in the autumn wind,
Reveal beauty so sheer.

Unadorned.

© 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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B o r d e r s

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Borders                                            

When does a river become a sea
the sweet water turn salty,
does it just flow and mingle?
Mingle in harmony,

How does a mountain become,
yours or mine, his or hers,
is it not always just its mighty self?
Part of the Earth, the wind, the Universe.

So tell me, how can we put borders
on mountains, in rivers and the sea,
How can we draw lines on the ocean,
on mighty mountains lay claim?

How can we, with impudence
Claim the Whole for ourselves

© miriam ivarson

Tor Heyerdahl quote

Whispering Wings

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Whispering Wings

They whisper as the breeze in the cottonwood trees,
as the grass drinking morning dew,
like a butterfly languidly moving its wings;
Just being its subliminal self,

Whisperings from small branches
moving gently in soft breeze,
Like Dragonfly hovering, such beauty
are their shimmering wings.

I lie down in the meadow with deep content,
hear the morning birds join in
singing sheer songs of life and joy,
partaking with delicacy and  skill.

Whispering like the hope in our hearts,
finding the tune we recognise from afar,
Songs sung for eternities
losing each other, but now

Recognising the whisperings anew.

© miriam ivarson

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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