White Dove and Rowan tree

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White Doves and Rowan Tree

Circling above, are
Snow White Doves
against cerulean sky.

Against red Rowan berries,
Tree so huge against the heavens.

How bravely they trust their wings,
Their precious gifts.
I dream my spirit would fly
with the confidence of their wings..

So I pack a little suitcase
With all courage I can find
and take to the air.
Suddenly I think of impossibility;

And the bag spills courage to the ground.

The birds perch on a rooftop so near,
telling me not to give up, how sweet.
I pack more courage and just go,
Not thinking at all.

This time I lasted a long while,
what glory and joy
To soar for a while and know,
just feel, fear and weight dropping off.

I will practice this soaring each day,
The white doves promised to help.
You are welcome to join should you wish.

miriam ivarson

 

 

Dancing the Waves

 

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Dancing the Waves

With love and delight she moves,
skimming and dancing across the sea
Her skirts made from froth and wakes,
swinging and dipping,

Like a ball gown in a wild dance.

A wonder so to dance on a sunny day
or under a full, silvery moon,
Partner the skiff, by the tiller,
sensitive to every move.

Feeling her rush towards the horizon,
at times lifting her prow high to the sky,
As if wanting to join the birds.

Whilst sailing, dipping and soaring with ease
free from any ties.

Making us humans seem lumbered,
laden with weights
Both physical and of mind,

Yet our spirits can be free as the skiff
Can soar as the birds
Don’t let us forget as we use this wonder,
the wonder that is our lives.

Let the eyes shine clear cyan, blue or brown
sparkling bright of life loved and lived.

c/ miriam ivarson

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WE ARE MORE

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WE  ARE  MORE

I talked to the Grasshopper this morning,
asked him why do you walk and not hop?
I have been watching quite bewildered.
Grasshoppers always hop.

The Grasshopper simply said;
I learnt to walk.
It was fun and I could look around.

How fixated had I been, putting him in a box.
The “hopping box””.

Now, this made me ponder,
why and how often do we do this?
Limit others and ourselves.

With labels and categories
each fitting an appropriate box.

Like the wise Grasshopper we should know
we contain many shades and hues,
many skills and dreams.

Why deny all these for one comfortable tag?
Why not dare dream, paint, write
stay in professions we love

Yet, not let the title be you
We are all so much more.

© miriam ivarson

 

 

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To Love Now

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To  Love  Now

Not the memories past
nor the dreams of future;
Love this moment, feel and see,
banish the cataloguing brain

At least for a while.

How can we take for granted
to see the birds flitting and feed,
Singing and playing in the trees.

Or see the wonder and immensity of the sky
the grand Cupola of Cosmos above,

Just now the heavenly scents from flowers
drift through the door. Should I not just Be?
Of course I should
and say thanks for the gifts and their multitude.

I wonder if I can bring this peace through the day,
pack it firmly in a corner of my heart.
I will tell you if it worked.
Or whether packing boxes won out.

Love the Now is not a new theory,
it is the only way to live, to feel joy.
Maybe we can convince our brains

Could they possibly live in harmony?

© miriam ivarson

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Invisible Grace

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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

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Fear FEAR Fear

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Fear  Fear  Fear

Suddenly the dark balloon bursts, 
with force scattering to the ground
ashes and fragments in multitude,
insignificant now, once content is revealed;

Total silence descends, stillness arrives.
Yet I am bewildered by this drama.
Silence, total silence descends,
Lucidity in quietness, like a flower, grows.

Whilst the wind blows ashes and fragments away.

The sky is so very blue, painfully so,
I couldn’t see that before.
What happened
what was actually in the this fearsome balloon?

It blocked out all light.

Behind the ‘zeppelin’, so filled with fear and doubt
an exciting new adventure was waiting;
Was calling my name.
Whilst frightened I hid below,
unable to accept what it held.

Now I can see the blue sky again, feel the sun
whilst walking, at times run,
Towards the adventure ahead.

Let my bare feet touch the ground
hair blowing free in the wind,
Skin kissed by the sun and breeze.

© miriam ivarson

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Seeking Yourself

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Seeking  Yourself

Hurled into the universe
helpless, small,
How do we know where to go
Is it coincidence or design?

I believe that the little spirit is drawn
to love in abundance, to care beyond call.
A seed inherent that grows, that blooms
as the helpless newborn says hello.

Yet, why did I choose an island in the North
or you a town in the South
and why these particular parents we love?

Do we have a purpose to fulfill, a gift to explore?
do you believe it is a random act.
Is the seeming randomness just fear,
fear of seeking, of fulfilling our destinies?

Like heat seeking missives we were hurled
to the parents perfect for us;
Are they kindred spirits we sought
or a cradle to further our growth?

I know this seems cruel to those who struggle,
yet history shows;
Strength and love,
Leadership and wisdom from many once deprived.

© miriam ivarson

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Light through Prisms

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LIGHT THROUGH PRISMS

Knowledge is great, we hunger to learn,
yet science cannot alone explain
the wonder we feel at nature’s play;

The beauty of light broken through prisms.

The light through fine raindrops high above
creating a rainbow at which we swoon and dream,
to which even songs are composed.
To the multitude of colours within,

Through bubbles, angles and light.

The glassblower’s art, so fascinating,
almost mystic as we watch.
I love observing, almost tear eyed;
Always walk out with one piece in my hand.

I have seen this wonder in snow crystals too
and yes, in a drinking glass.
In reverence we watch these bubbles in the sky,
in a studio, in a droplet on a grass;

Don’t let us forget bubbles of light 
rising from our hearts.

© miriam ivarson

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