Annihilation

apocalypse-2273069__340

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

abstract-2468874__340

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

art-1478831__340

 

H o l d i n g

couple-1836407__340

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

mountains-3699372__340

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

alive-720243__340

 

CURLING EDGE

 

IMG_0372

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

IMG_0373

Science and Space

IMG_1950

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

IMG_1951

 

 

Invisible Grace

100_2345

INVISIBLE  GRACE

Sat in the sun this morning
among bushes, flowers and trees.
among birds, butterflies and bees
Some big, some small, all in harmony

As was I under favourite arbour
dressed in Honeysuckle and Clematis
Total stillness resided in my soul,
I felt perfect peace

Part of nature’s incredible gifts.

Sadly we humans often lose this inheritance
looking at imagined or real problems ahead,
fears that eat the soul which was born to just be

Part of the wonder of universe, of a garden, a song.

I see now that when I move, a new garden will be my goal
My first act of creation somewhere new,
make a haven for birds, flowers and trees
and for me

Somewhere were you can sit alone or with friends
thanking for the wonder that is.
And smile

As we refill ourselves with new vitality.

© miriam ivarson

IMG_0160

 

SOUL PORTRAIT

stream

SOUL  PORTRAIT

I pray our songlines be
those of care and love.
Showing warmth and tenderness
for all creatures along our path.

That we look intently at a tree,
all the way up to the crown .
Stand peaceful and listen to its flow
The flow from the roots, branches, 
to the utmost top.

Listen to the stream further on,
its unselfconscious purity and play
as it skips, bounds and sings;
Sunglitter in its hair.

Gently walk there, as not to hurt,
all the tender growth and life underfoot.
Dip your feet in the stream,
share its elation, feel freedom swell.

You might wonder where does this stream go
as it dances its way? I tell you, it is painting its 
Soulportrait
on its way to the river and the sea.

As can you and I as we flow,
through life’s varied events
over big boulders and smooth terrain.
Through light and dark.

May our soul portraits be filled
with wisdom and smiles.
Guiding songlines on the way to the sea.

© miriam ivarson