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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Lines in the Sand

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I did post a rather serious but hopefully positive poem last week
so felt that something gentle and warming was in order.

As it happens there was a prompt some weeks ago and I felt tempted 
for the first time; I must admit that I have only written three poems
where the title was given. This prompt though rang well with me. It was called “ Lines in the Sand”.

My version is romantic and hopefully will warm your hearts. 

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Lines in the Sand                                   

We drew lines in the sand,
you and I
after walking hand in hand
along the ocean front,
seeing so many wrinkles in the sand;

Lines that little waves made.

Our hearts filled with song
as our eyes met and held,
deep and questioning,
but shy of our love,

looking at life forms in the sand,
angel crabs, shells and such,
all the while wondering how to say;
I love you.

A stick of flotsam, no two
drifted in to the strand,
we picked one each
And wrote in the sand,

I love you.

© miriam ivarson

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