Primordial

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Primordial

My heart is quiet now
Not a skipping brook
nor a flowing river;
Nor the Songbird I know.

Glimpses light up, reminders,
like the Starling outside my window
the violets in the sun.
So much beauty, why then not skip?

Earth is recovering from our sins
We are now the prisoners thereof,
The sky is clear, air tastes sweet,
Waters run blue again.

The stillness, the calmness
the trees show to me, as they raise
their branches to the sky.
No thoughts of fear, just being.

Being their strong, primordial selves
Being part of totality.

© miriam ivarson

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DIGNIFIED

House

DIGNIFIED

I saw him again this morning
Coming out from his home with it’s shiny black door
A little shopping bag in his hand.

He looks stately this man, dressed with care,
Tall and proud he carries his years.
At times his wife will come, she looks frail
but so very loved.

Together they give warmth to the neighbourhood
make people behave more dignified.
On returning with his bag full, he is often stopped,
so many want to say hello and how are you and more.

Have wondered if I should cross the expanse
walk the road and say hi to the man and his wife.

Do you think they would like to come for tea
with scones and clotted cream.

© miriam ivarson

Flower basket

 

SOFTLY

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SOFTLY

they fall upon a hungry ground,
snowflakes filled with dew.
So slowly, so gently they wake
grasses and plants.  Feed them

blessings from the sky.
As together Earth and snow create
A season of awakening, of new life.

The feed from above settles lightly
on my newly created lawn,
I say, thank you for the blessing
Knowing the grass will smile with the sun.

So gently we are all bound together
a creation of love and life.

© miriam ivarson

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MUSIC IN ALL

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MUSIC IN ALL

It is here again, live music pours forth
so shimmering and bright,
Making the air and us quiver
as each note streams and sings;

Creating a whole.

With strength and passion it enchants
my heart swells with joy.
Where and how did his music grow so,
reach heights, trying to express;

Feelings, events, beauty, sorrow and joy
won’t be contained, need to be told.
I can feel him ask the piano for more,
asking each string to give its all.

Give from strong emotions
carried within his young and strong heart.

He teaches me importance of striving our most
To express our heartaches, our love and joy.
To express life itself
knowing it can never be contained,

no more than the music of rain
falling on a lake or on leaves of a tree,
The symphony of storm on the sea
or the quiet sounds of your heart and breath.

Music surrounds us, heals us
At times wakes numbed minds

©miriam ivarson

 

Annihilation

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Annihilation

The world is burning
Minds of leaders are flaming
Earth is crying for its children
who seem so set on destruction.

I look out and see a gentle drizzle
With backdrop of rising sun
Such beautiful and peaceful display.
So right and so contrary to our news.

Missiles are flying here and there,
the stupidity, the cruelty of it all.
Why, oh why do we choose them?
Leaders with frozen hearts

Who live only on hackneyed rhetoric.

Death, tears, despair fills the lands
as their people are flung across the world;
many dead, others can hardly walk.

Seeing the destruction of human beings
and of Earth, I think
What do we and the leaders do?
Just accept annihilation,
cede and lay down – tearless now

All dried out or burnt
Just like Earth.

© miriam ivarson

THE PAINTBOX

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THE PAINTBOX

I opened the curtains and saw
Heaven spilling out colours,
the whole paintbox seemed to flow
Painting the sky

with abundance and delight.

Have I got enough colours in my box,
Could I also have a go?
I feel intimidated by the artwork above
Still, what fun to try.

Let the brain take a backseat, be like a child
Let heart and fun flow through the hand.
Fail, no I can’t;
Colour will be there
and who is to judge.

A flock of swifts fly bypass and say,
No failures if you follow your heart,
Follow your instinct and dreams.
Banish false pride.

© miriam ivarson

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H o l d i n g

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Holding

Holding steady, holding firm
Love and care binding.
Floating through air, on waves,
through fears and joy.

Holding, never let go.
That is what the dream showed,

what a dream to come true.

Caring, seeing, holding with respect,
never greedy. Forming a bond of safety,
a circle of love.
A circle unbroken by storm or sun.

Could this dream be reality
Could we divest negativity and angst?

Seeing deep into each other’s souls
knowing them as they were our own,
Real soulmates, forever friends.

Daydream or real, it is for us to decide.
How do we want to lead our lives.
What choices do we make?

© miriam ivarson

 

BRUSHSTROKES

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BRUSHSTROKES

with brush strokes light as feathers
I want to tell you about beauty
in a newly woken sky;
In a bird feeding his young.

In a woman’s graceful stretching,
her fingertips reaching high, just because.
Of glowing heather gracing my wall;

Caught by an artist with loving heart.

About the soft morning mist on the ground,
the neighbourhood slowly waking up.
Dogs taking humans for a walk – 
or is it the other way around?

About the stillness and grandeur of trees
that grace the territory;
Teaching us not to rush,
to respect nature and all therein.

With softest colours showing us gratitude,
gratefulness to Be, alive.
To love, most important of all.

Remembering those
who seen only dark shades so far.

© miriam ivarson

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CURLING EDGE

 

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CURLING EDGE

It is dying now, we might think
watching a leaf with a big brown speckle
and curling edges;
Suddenly though, it plays with sun rays,
and shines in gold and green

The brown fleck looks like a decoration.

Watching this Rose bush I also see
new leaves and late roses opening up.
Showing that new and old
in autumn, live together in beauty and harmony.

A Wren landing on a twig
adds to the great blessing this morning.

So it is that my first lesson of the day
also becomes my blessing,
Autumn is here with its shifting hues,
Cooler but certain of its purpose and rhythm.

C / miriam ivarson

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Science and Space

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Science and space

Driven by passion and hunger
fuelled by mystical questions about life.
How come, who are we, why does it work?

Mysticism is simply the unasked answer within,
an age old wisdom knowing right from wrong.
Knowing what heals a wound
be it of the body or soul.

Does it not then make perfect sense
that the two work together honourably.
Listen, test, measure
Letting the answer be in tune and respect.

Our bodies, universe, are all vibrational frequencies
Fine tuned at best,
would it then follow that tuning is vital,
Creator, healer of wounds.

Used in harmony with science for the solid,
creating knowledge that can heal or harm.
There is no sound without silence
There is no science without mysticism.

C / miriam ivarson

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