tears

Annihilation

/ delphini510 / 56 Comments

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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

To a Waif

/ delphini510 / 47 Comments

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To a Waif

Come to me, my waif, my angel,
Let me wipe those tears
Let me soothe your fears.
be your harbour whilst you heal.

Tell your story if you wish,
I am there, I will hold
whilst stormy tales are told.
Until your cracking heart is cleansed.

Then rock you gently
as healing tears fall.

Like a willow in golden light
You will again dance free,
lift head and arms to the sky.

Free again. Unchained.

I pray you will trust anew,
dare reach out a hand
and I pray it will be mine.

c/ miriam ivarson

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THE BEWILDERED POET

/ delphini510 / 50 Comments

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THE BEWILDERED POET

Just sat there,
Neither happy nor sad;
No words came, all were spent.

So it seemed,

Can you listen, look,
yet not find one, a single one
lazily floating by?

Bewildered the poet sat.

She already told about the morning scent,
About whispers and hums,
about a sky, sheer blue;
In its new washed morning hue.

About troubling contrasts,
rivers of pain
as the beaten and dispossessed flowed;
In slow and defeated mass.

About the morning birds’ song,
the flower’s hue,
even Lines in the sand;
Did the words get washed away?

A tear spilled down the poet’s cheek.

c/ miriam ivarson

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DRIFTWOOD

/ delphini510 / 57 Comments

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DRIFTWOOD

washed up on the shore,
so exquisite, so polished;
Feels like silk in my hands,

For days, weeks or longer
it has travelled,
across oceans and seas,

hammered against rocks
varnished by sand.

Reminding me of many unfortunates,
living in the shady side of our cities,
by gleaming edifices of beauty and wealth;

Driftwood of humanity.

Playthings to those who exploit,
sleeping in doorways, under bridges,
washed up from an ocean of society;
There was no space for them within,

they see the sun, feel the rain,
but can they feel joy?
when their mattress is concrete?

meanwhile we sleep in soft beds
pampered and fed.

How my heart bleeds
wishing to rescue, to help;
Praying those with knowledge will,
as I give my support,

yet the sorrow and helplessness is there.
Around the corner glittering skyscrapers stand
holding wealth beyond sense.

Still, I pick driftwood by the shore,
feeling it’s journey in my hands;
Journey across oceans free,

Washed by the sea
Kissed by the sun.

© miriam ivarson

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A bit of my heart

/ delphini510 / 54 Comments

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A bit of my heart

I send out, as I publish thoughts and dreams,
yet the heart remains unbroken;
being replenished,
filled
By the act of giving.

It is a moment of “knife-edge”, a friend said,
do you give or do you withhold,
take the risk of being misunderstood

Or just ignored.

Is it the fear of being unseen,
creating hesitation,

like a child building a castle of sand
wanting praise and smiles,
To be known.

Creating is a force within,
without outlet we burst;
Let it flow with abundance,
Never to be a chore.

It is enough if a soul or two
recognise each other,
find succour in the words.

Share song and tears
with free and trusting hearts.

© miriam ivarson

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