SOFTLY

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SOFTLY

they fall upon a hungry ground,
snowflakes filled with dew.
So slowly, so gently they wake
grasses and plants.  Feed them

blessings from the sky.
As together Earth and snow create
A season of awakening, of new life.

The feed from above settles lightly
on my newly created lawn,
I say, thank you for the blessing
Knowing the grass will smile with the sun.

So gently we are all bound together
a creation of love and life.

© miriam ivarson

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The Contemplative

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The Contemplative

In the whisper you find yourself
The contemplative being within,
seemingly fragile, needing peace;
Always striving for space.

In a world where storms roar,
created by nature and mankind
We need to find a temple of calm
where clamour can’t rule.

With no haste, the room is there
bide your time within.
Rising with the morning rays,
The Contemplative smiles.

It was always there, the space,
Let the wonder of light and colour
be the decoration of your special room.

It is within you and me,
within all who want to see,
Access the depth of ourselves
Of nature and life in all form.

© miriam ivarson


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GIFTS YOU CAN’T WRAP

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GIFTS YOU CAN’T WRAP

To celebrate, to love and give,
all natural impulses for those we love,
for anyone that made your heart smile
who held your hand when times were hard;

And danced with you in sun and rain.

Gifts wrapped in beautiful paper and bows
are a treasure to cherish,
The contents can make you squeal with joy
and hug the person who knew you so.

On my birthday the other day I found,
often the best gifts don’t come wrapped.
A surprise morning breakfast prepared by a friend
with all your favourite things.

Candle lit and with Buck’s Fizz as starter.

Door bell ringing, delivery of so many flowers
I got hidden behind, laughing at the beauty,
Laughing at the balloon, like a little girl.

A message to get ready for a car arriving at noon,
Bringing us all to the sea and a little town,
for awesome walk in the sun
Among barge boats, beach and birds.

I just smiled.

Oh, a lunch on the quay side was included too;
Driving home my eyes shone with tears of joy.

©miriam ivarson

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Winter Gauze

 

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Winter Gauze

We saw winter come dressed in gauze,
Sheer transparent white
Dancing and swirling;

Dressing fields, roofs, cars and plants
in wondrous coats,
Dress designers drop their tools.
Give up.

Sun rises higher in the sky
warming, smiling, revealing.
Cars don’t look so pretty now.
Only nature shines in many hues.

A plant pot catches my eyes
as it displays,
Little fir tree in spring green
lit from within
Surrounded by flowers so glowing

in sheer gold, burnished gold,
deep purple heather for show.

The sky exhilaratingly blue
after many grey and sad looking days.
My heart sings with the birds
as I finish Sunday breakfast 

conversing with you.

©miriam ivarson

STARDUST

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STARDUST

I am the tree reaching for the sky
I am the woman underneath
I am the leaves glowing in the sun
I am the Earth that feeds

I am the bird on the branch
I am the deer in the glade
I am the squirrel flying between.

I am the girl diving in the sea
I am the sea
I am the woman watching stars
I am Stardust

I am you
You are me.

© miriam ivarson

Reflecting …

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Reflecting …

on plans we make and made
on their apparent futility,
Although they are grand
filled with perfection, created by us;

Beautiful artwork by our clever brains.
At times they work, fragile though they are.

How do we cope if one cog in this plan
Crashes and stops the perfect wheel?
Are we flexible and filled with grace.

Do we care for the failing part,
Let it mend with our help.
Scrap the carefully laid plans,
Find healing and joy?

Just not as per plan. Permit the flow
Let imagination and love create,
Be their willing tools.

So we can have our glorious Christmas,
whether illness or snow storm strike.
Snuggled together in another place,
ease off and smile;

Whilst candles light our cottage,
Convert it to a fairy tale grotto of love.

© miriam ivarson

Resplendent

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R e s p l e n d e n t 

So golden, so very golden,
I wish I could share
the warm fire from heather
as the Sun shines;

Spreading light from both below and above.

Sky, heather and fields
all take part
In this resplendent show,
this otherworldly praise,

Praise to life in all.

Reflections from the sun?
or are we also deep down
suns that can shine and glow?
Can we spread light,

Can we each be someone’s sun
lift sorrow, spread hope?
How grand that would be.

© miriam ivarson

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H o l d i n g

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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

 

INNER GPS

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A book that changed my life years ago
is “Illusions” by Richard Bach. It still
has an honoured place on the special shelf
near my bed. 

I will not tire you with the exact events now
but time and time again a quote from this book 
will come to mind. So it was a few days ago.

The quote is:  ‘You are led 
                   through your lifetime
                   by the inner learning creature,
                   the playful spiritual being
                   that is your real self.’
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Inner gps

I lead you, I am your inner GPS,
yes, it is a steep hill ahead
and yes, there is a narrow ledge too.
You will be frightened at times.

Unexpectedly you reach a plateau
and in front of you is spread
beauty overwhelming and immense.
Valleys, river, woodlands and fields

in hues only music can convey.

you will want to run and sing. 
To dance, to sit and dream
maybe swim.

Clamour around will try to own you,
to confuse who is really you and true.
Fearing your inner playful soul,

wanting you to cling with them
to customs, safety and rules,
with no singing brooks
no smiles and laughs.

© miriam ivarson

Lake Bullaren

Photos by Miriam Ivarson