W H Y

W H Y

I feel pain, my tears fall
as pictures show the terror and angst,
of children, women and men
Bleeding, terrified, confused.

Their pain is indescribable and all this
Because of one mad and power hungry man.
How do these murderers get so far?

How did they get so many to obey,
Answer us now, why and how.

Did they follow this bully turned killer?
From the schoolyard and on,
are they so scared that a NO

might make them victims too?

Sun is shining this morning and I watch
people walking their dogs, children go to school.

It isn’t so difficult to live in peace
So Why?

© miriam ivarson

ON THE ROCK

ON THE ROCK

As I sit there on a rock
on the highest top.
Of a little island

surrounded by beauty of the sea

Looking round with a joy that hurts
I see the sea – surrounding me, hear whispers
From the wind talking to the sea and
from glistening rocks, smiling.

Seagulls and terns sail and swoop
with grace and joy, being their pure selves.
Me, I am transfixed to be, just now

part of this peace,
that fills my heart.

Lifting my arms to the sky, I speak
words I never known before
They seem to fill me – like the wind
that lifts the gull.

Scents of heathers drifting down,
Down the rocks
Filling every crevice, filling me.

© miriam ivarson

Let It Pour

Let it pour

They tell me, just write
wonder whether prose would be best,
How can a poem suffice, and yet

I am looking at a sky that shifts and delights
It can’t be captured with a click.
The colours transform and so do the shapes,
All ethereal but never the same.

And how can you portray the swifts flying
with such speed and delight,
Forwards and up and down.
Singly or in almost a murmur.

Suddenly the sun painted a few clouds
in delicate golds and purple,
I bet when I look up, they will change again.

I forgot to tell you about the winter trees
Stretching their dark branches high,
against the backdrop of eggshell and pink.

Would it be that we need to look more,
to drink it all in

to find joy, to find us.
Then let it pour out.

© miriam ivarson

Duty and Love

Duty and Love

Living a life of duty
with the one you profess to love,
Leaves a life without glory for both.

Love can never be faked
nor replaced with another coin;
Love fills all, creates.

Duty can protect, can repair walls
Love dances free, without a fence.

Duty can build castles and shelters,
also prison for spirit and soul.
Love can set us free.

It takes courage to follow love,
its breathtaking dance and trails.
Creating with truth and warmth.

© miriam ivarson

VALIDATION

VALIDATION

Do we walk alone or in threes and fours
Seeking ourselves within friends?

Do we seek a soulmate to hold
and to be held. Keep the heart safe;
Although feeling it might brea
k?

Do we seek validation among the many,
Do we seek and give, love and care.

I heard the story about a man

He walked for forty years in solitude,
a hermit in the vastness of mountains and lakes
in different countries, yet all the same,
freedom and truth from the greatness arou
nd.

I would like to meet this man, hear his thoughts,
Did he find wholeness and peace?
Among mountains, lochs and lakes.
Does it get lonesome at all?

Could it be that we are part of both?
Craving solitude but also a friend.
Someone who would walk with us
through pain and joy.

© miriam ivarson

Can You Hear

Can You Hear

Can you hear them. Million voices
calling out in fear and pain,
Can you feel their agony;
Their loss of hope and faith.

Can you hear them calling
as sickness sweeps the world;
As bombs drop and missiles fly.

Can you hear their pain?

Can you see them,
the suffering and dispossessed?
Can you tell why it should be so?

Words turn to a trickle, a whisper
As another tragedy hits mankind, the Earth.

Is it then wrong to remember, we only have here and now,
so let us hear the flowers sing sweetly
part of nature’s orchestration.

May one day we hear the million voices sing;
Singing songs of freedom and joy.
Call me a dreamer if you wish, so be it.

© miriam ivarson

Age Old Song

Age Old Song

I walked down to the harbour today
drawn by the scent of the sea;
Before me I saw a scene of life and strength.

Trawlers had arrived back
from their week long work at sea,
from fishing and other lands.

Laughter, strength and sheer vitality;
Filled the air with age old song.

I loved it down there, watching and listening
keeping myself out of the way.
My father knew where I was and gave me a wink,
came and lifted me to the sky.

They loved their work, these men of the sea,
it was hard but they were strong and free.
Their stories fascinated me.

As the men withdrew to BOA,
a centre for repairing nets and making new,
for sharing news and laughs, bellyfuls.
It was also where the Storyteller held forth.

Fantastic stories and wisdoms held all enthralled,
as hands flew at tasks and laughter rose.

In the homes women happily worked,
cooking and singing;
Their men were safely home.

At BOA work and stories paused
as husbands and fathers longed
for their women, children. For home.

Happy as a bird I walked home
my little hand in pappas hand, so strong and safe.

Reaching home my mamma held her arms outstretched,
pappa lifted her up and walking around
sang her a song of love and fun;
A song all his own.

All five chicks following them around
waiting patiently for their turn.

Such joy reigned in our abode.

© miriam ivarson

Pinprick of Blue

Pinprick of Blue

Each morning I stand for a while in awe,
in front of the windows facing East.
I drink into my being the wonder of Sun’s rise;
Gradually the beauty colours my inner Self.

As the sun dramatically but calmly spreads its rays
filling the sky in glorious hues,
Colours that give praise
superior to the flight of words.

How lucky I am to share this rhythmic splendour
as Earth and sun dance.

I have seen it over oceans, over mountains
Over forests and fields,
over rooftops in hamlets and towns.

I still dream of seeing
the sun rise over desert dunes.

And yet, from Mars, our planet is but a pinprick,
pale blue , they say.
I would be homesick.
Simply loving Earth too much.

© miriam ivarson

Silence Spoke

Silence Spoke

Lightly the white fluffy flakes were falling
Outside my patio doors,
I opened and stepped out
Stood there for a wh
ile.

The soft snowflakes melted on my face;
Cold but exhilarating.
Silence, mystic silence prevailed,
yet it spoke.

Spoke in quiet tones, of peace.

Nature has so many sounds,
I love them all;
The patter of light rain, the storms,
the breeze through the trees;

Whispers and roars show life on Earth
its indomitable resonance and tenacity.

Now I feel and hear the silence
of pure white snow whirling from the sky,
I cherish the hush,

I cherish the wisdom of old.

© miriam ivarson

SURPASSING

SURPASSING

There are feelings beyond expressions,
Emotions that can never in words be told
be it in poetry or prose;
Feelings above music and song.

All these mediums and more,
can light the flame;
Make your spirit soar beyond,

To where only rapture resides,
Thoughts suspended.

To where you can feel an ecstasy
Emotion beyond a name.
Where you want to stay and fly free;

Also cry the tears you hidden,
tears, also without name.
Cleansing in their own purity.

Moments of epiphany.

© miriam ivarson