serenity
Creativity
Creativity
Is it only through utter, total peace
or its opposite,
sorrow and pain,
That we can experience;
The depth and crest of creation
Not to forget joy beyond words,
Stillness without bounds
where thoughts can’t reach.
Hear the whispers of leaves and grass,
just rejoice in the beauty of a butterfly,
a bird, a meadow field;
Nature seemingly holding its breath,
I want to hold you all, to share this moment,
Of otherworldly tranquility,
Help you see, it is so easy and yet so hard
To leave worries, plans and charts behind,
To taste an hour of total peace.
C/ miriam ivarson
CANDYFLOSS LIGHT
Candy floss Light
The powerful display by masters
by setting sun over snow and dark wood,
In shadows, on light drenched ground
How can one wish for more;
In silent awe I sit with a friend
we whisper quietly our awe,
To talk loud seems a sacrilege,
in this Temple not built by man.
For a while the snow had taken
hues of bright white with diamonds aglow.
With light blue shades
and deeper blues, like a fathomless lake,
shadows the mighty forest threw;
As sun sets further, colours of candy floss,
soft pink coloured the snow,
Lit it as from within, such eerie light,
against black-green forest behind;
The sun sank into the sea,
Light still glowed
As now the full moon lit the scene,
even she was pink.
@ miriam ivarson
And one photo just to make you smile and wish you a Happy Weekend.
Photos by miriam ivarson
BEJEWELLED TREE
Sorrow and Strength
Sorrow and Strength
Grief is commensurate
to the depth and intensity
of love;
Part of your life is gone
future dreams an empty abyss.
Leaving you to face bottomless pain.
Is the deep trauma of so much love
worth the price of loss,
someone asked.
Yes. A resounding yes
rose from my cracking heart.
You will never live fully without.
In numbness, suffering, confusion
We do not yet know,
that through the pain, this purgatory;
New strength will germinate.
Will grow,
new course will unfold
new clarity of mind and soul.
Often I think of my mother,
thank her for teaching me love,
with kindness, laughter and song.
My father was my hero
until I let him be a man,
He often visits me from beyond.
I thank him for teaching me strength,
about the world we live in
about honouring each man.
My uncle who sang so serenely
of Swallows arriving in spring;
Lifting hearts to the heavens.
Like an angel he was and is.
So the unfathomable pains,
that seemed to crush the heart
Has turned to deep and rich wells,
that is with me each day.
My great love for those passed,
my grief;
Is now my smile and strength.
© miriam ivarson
Fountain of Youth
Reading many wise thinkers’ thoughts about life, what
gives lasting fulfillment and inner aliveness, brought me to
the question of retaining this fountain of youth. Of being
fully alive.
To dare live here and now as Eckhardt Tolle teaches in his
wonderful books makes us younger both physically and spiritually.
To feel each moment and not see it as a transport to the next.
By living so in our daily life, our faces relax and find the ease of
a smile. Strength to live life to the full and let our inner selves pour forth. To find clarity.
Fountain of Youth
Does it really exist,
or is it a state of mind?
The thought came unbidden
as I walked,
along the ocean shore.
The waves from the Atlantic
relentless, forceful,
singing their eternal song;
Powerful, soporific
profound,
dynamic organ to gentle,
sweet percussions;
as my ears, my being tuned in
revealing a mighty orchestration.
Eyes filled with tears of joy
as the morning sun revealed,
nature in all its beauty,
Splendour and hues.
Feet delighted in the surf
as tides reached, caressed,
and at times unbalanced me
with their strength.
I found my smile again,
full and free
as gradually the Atlantic hymn
filled my soul, my ears,
My whole,
leaving woes and fears behind;
who earlier seemed invincible,
so strong;
Where now drowned
By unending sea.
You look so young
I heard every day;
your smile is so bright.
Could it be so simple, I thought?
Have I found along the shore,
The Fountain of Youth?
Letting frowns and worries
be erased by the ocean sound.
Bringing forth who I was,
who I am;
As I walk along
the smile fills my heart,
opens it wide.
The crashing waves are me
as are the shifting sands,
We are one and the same.
A feeling so boundless and free
© miriam ivarson
A FLOWER TO BEHOLD
To dream the impossible dream, is that what we do? All of us who believe in harmony among people on our Planet?
Who dream of of peace for Earth itself?
I am a dreamer and in spite of some shrugging shoulders I intend to remain so.
I have an inkling that the majority of people share this very dream. It might seem futile to an observer of world events but we have to look closer at all who surround us in our daily life.
At all who join together in joys and sorrows. Who give a supporting arm when needed, a caring word for a fellow being, a smile for those we meet.
We feel the bond that links us in spite of different world opinions. We inhabit this Earth, we need each other.
There is much cruelty in our world and sickness of mind. The more I observe people around me I am however convinced that the majority believe in the good in man and dare display it in their daily life
So let us make our voices heard, express ourselves, each in their own way.
Spread sunshine and hope where we go.
A FLOWER TO BEHOLD
May all the world’s leaders
around the table,
Be given a flower to behold.
To study in silence, fifteen minutes or more,
its delicacy, serenity and peace;
Quieting anger and unrest.
Don’t let ego, hunger for power and greed,
stand in the way of creating a world,
Fit for all.
Listen to people of the world,
open your hearts, your souls;
Can you hear their hunger and dreams,
Hunger for beauty, peace, meaning and truth.
Allow us all to shine like the flowers,
in tune with creation;
End the wars, killings, cruelty.
Free every child, woman and man.
Embrace humility, quietness, love
so you can hear, can understand;
Abnormality of wars,
don’t trample on life
don’t crush it to death.
The alternative is grim;
Obliteration of this Earth,
Death to a wondrous gift.
To dust you will turn us all.
An appalling and shameful deed
© miriam ivarson
CHURCH BELLS CALLING
We are approaching the end of this year and readying ourselves to greet 2018, perhaps wondering about the joys and trials it might bring.
One sound that always plays a big role on New Year’s Eve is the Church bells. The idea of sharing my thoughts came whilst listening to the local Church atop the hill ring out every Thursday evening. Spreading quieting sounds mixed with gladness.
Every week the bellringers practice diligently. I always feel a certain awe and peace as the bells ring out across the villages and hamlets. A stillness falls among all the busyness. I hope many of you have the pleasure of hearing the same wherever you live.
Back to New Year bell ringing. I was going to send you a poem read each year in all cities and villages in Sweden. The squares are packed with people whilst at midnight the poem “Nyårsklockan” is read. I had until today thought this was a Swedish poem but looking for a suitable video I found that it is originally written by Lord Tennyson.
A Swedish poet translated the poem and a few years after Tennyson’s death it became the big Swedish tradition. So the countries share the love for one great poem.
Hence you will understand that I am giving you this beautiful poem by Tennyson and make no attempt to write one myself.
Ring out, wild bells
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Ring out the grief that saps the mind
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.
Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.
Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1809 – 1892
The poem was first published 1850.
The Storyteller Speaks / my thoughts
The Storyteller Speaks / my thoughts
It is with joy I dedicate this post to Annika whose blog I followed from the beginning and always found to be one of entertainment and wisdom.
Be it writing about a visit to a castle, traveling to foreign land or just hiding bottles in the garden and of course, her own creative stories.
The stories Annika has posted have all been of such high quality that I am among those of you who encouraged her to do an anthology. As we all know; she did! It is out and I bought an early copy. Having read The Storyteller Speak I would like to post my review as below.
*****
Annika Perry is a natural storyteller, a wordsmith of great talent. She writes at times with the language of a poet, at other times with the sharp and daring strokes of Picasso.
Sheer light infuse her pages;
Darkness where the soul cries.
Annika’s Anthology consists of stories filled with depth and entertainment. Joy and grief. Romance and thriller. They all share a deep care and love for their characters. The pace is unhurried, yet entirely without superfluous words. You are left totally absorbed in the events and settings.
How does she do it?
All I can say is … Annika, keep on writing.
I am hungry for more.
About the Book
It only takes one event to change a life. What is that action, decision, occurrence? Whose life is affected? Changed forever?
In this eclectic mix of 21 short stories, flash fiction and poetry the pendulum swings between first love and murder, from soul-destroying grief to reconciliation. The tales veer from the sweet satisfaction of revenge to new beginnings, from heart-breaking miscarriages of justice to heart-warming Christmas misadventure.
One common thread binds them all; the belief that there is no such thing as an ordinary life; they’re all extraordinary.
Open your hearts and minds as The Storyteller Speaks.
********
You can buy the book at Amazon.co.uk or Amazon.com
You can connect with Annika via:
her blog: https://annikaperry.com
her twitter: https://twitter.com/AnnikaPerry68
Annika Perry Goodreads: : : https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/55576285-annika-perry
JUST RESTING…
To all friends out there I want to say; in a few months you will find that my poem comes true. At least part of it, the second part might remain a mystery. I would then ask: ‘Isn’t life itself a wonderful mystery revealing itself as we walk along.’
Just resting
Now the leaves are gone
the structure of the trees revealed;
strong, complex, intricate statues,
Some with delicate lace crowns.
Others with powerful arms,
all reaching for the sky.
Humbling me, who thought all was dying,
when really they are – just resting,
preparing for new life.
Standing in grace, strength and beauty.
waiting for birds and buds.
I’ve met people like that,
Old people with strong souls,
rich lives led in love,
In awareness;
Eyes shining bright.
Smiles full of mystery,
abundance of wisdom gained.
They see you, see into your soul,
their words of truth sink in,
balm on troubled heart.
May we cherish this era of trees
Of women and men,
see the beauty of their calm
with stillness and grace;
Secret smiles filled
with humour and mystique.
© miriam ivarson
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