THE SUN

/ delphini510 / 41 Comments

The Sun

The sun came up as it has since time begun
painting sky and earth in its glorious colours,.
Bewitched I stood there and for a while,
only did exist.

Looking down at my beloved Hibiscus
I told it that I felt sorrow too,
as its budding glories might not bloom;
Autumn was here and quite cold.

So the seasons go and we can but
follow their eternal song,
From spring, summer, autumn and snow.
Learning to embrace and be part.

Yet, the sun will always rise
Sometimes high and at times low,
As we greet this warming globe
Let us rejoice, not moan.

©miriam ivarson

Drunk on Joy

/ delphini510 / 50 Comments

Drunk on Joy

Has it struck you at times, out in free open spaces
how very loud the little songbirds sing
how clear and distinct, from high trees near and far;
Yet their dome is the sky and walls don’t exist.

How can their little bodies contain so much
strength, beauty and joy.
Yet, in between they work hard finding food;
Building nests and teaching their young.

I wonder if we think to much whilst they simply live,
rejoice in song and flight when work is done.
Or in between.

Imagine humans bursting out in song, just like that
without wondering if it is good enough, or worse
If you are drunk.

It occurs to me that it would be wonderful to be
drunk on joy and gratitude for being, here and now.
Sing and dance with happiness,
not being so correct.

© miriam ivarson

THE FEN

/ delphini510 / 46 Comments
photo © miriam ivarson

The Fen

My friends, I so wish you could hear
the sound of Dragonfly wings over the Fen,
the whispering of Butterflies as they nectar seek.
Would it be that you could share the humming silence;
The wonder, the awe.

I spot a little sparrow on the ground, pecking in peace,
he also is part of the serenity that surrounds.
The stillness that whispers in the breeze
the tranquility of crickets, dragonflies, butterflies,
of us breathing quietly, not saying a thing.

I can feel the sun caress my skin, not burning,
gently makes me feel as if glowing.
Earth is giving up scents so heavenly,
the richness of which I cannot describe.
I wish you could smell it too.

The scent from earth, so generous
flooding our senses.

© miriam ivarson

Photo courtesy Pixaby

C o u r a g e

/ delphini510 / 34 Comments

C o u r a g e

This Poppy talked to me
About giving, about courage
as it made its home in a crack in a wall,
which surrounded a church.

A village church
800 hundred years old, so I am told.

The brave Poppy seed liked the warmth,
the peace and the sun.
Found enough earth and settled down.

Now, here I stand and feel deep harmony
as the Poppy’s fragile petals gently move in the breeze.
Its joyful colours smile.

What light it brings.

© miriam ivarson

MORNING DEW

/ delphini510 / 39 Comments

MORNING DEW

Hibiscus greeted me this morning
Dressed in a glittering crystal veil
Gentle pearls of water
formed a gown sublime.

In reverence, with joyful heart
I drank its beauty in
Said my thanks for lifting,
Lifting my heart and spirit high.

c/ miriam ivarsoon

HIDDEN WINGS

/ delphini510 / 52 Comments

Hidden Wings

This morning as the sun arose
I saw a little bird fly in,
blessing my garden with its grace.

It fed among flowers and seeds
without hurry or greed,
leaving enough for the friends.

Suddenly he hopped up to my patio door,
turned his head side to side, studying me;
I was feeding too.

I could hear him tweet, you can also fly,
your wings are hidden within.
Just trust and you will rise;
Higher each time.

I tried this once before, when I was a girl,
I thought my arms too thin, no wings at all.
Now I wonder, does he mean my spirit wings?

Could I soar and dip and swing
if I trust the wings within.

Why don’t we all give it a try.

© miriam ivarson

Can You Hear

/ delphini510 / 39 Comments

Can You Hear

Can you hear them. Million voices
calling out in fear and pain,
Can you feel their agony;
Their loss of hope and faith.

Can you hear them calling
as sickness sweeps the world;
As bombs drop and missiles fly.

Can you hear their pain?

Can you see them,
the suffering and dispossessed?
Can you tell why it should be so?

Words turn to a trickle, a whisper
As another tragedy hits mankind, the Earth.

Is it then wrong to remember, we only have here and now,
so let us hear the flowers sing sweetly
part of nature’s orchestration.

May one day we hear the million voices sing;
Singing songs of freedom and joy.
Call me a dreamer if you wish, so be it.

© miriam ivarson

Oceans and Seas

/ delphini510 / 34 Comments

Oceans and Seas

How you enchant me, bewitch;
With your song so powerful and true
at times whispering sweet
at times roaring with incredible might.

This day you decided to play
Orchestrate every pebble on a shingle beach,
As each wave rolled them towards the shore
then withdrew, returning again.

And again, and again,
hypnotizing and bewitching tunes.

Today you were playful, I was grateful
as this was my first trip out, in a year and a half;
The joy to meet again was beyond words.

With your friend, the wind, you can cause
Hurricanes, tsunamis but also gently roll,
Tickle my toes along the surf.

I love you ocean and sea, thanks for still being you,
Powerful, yet kind.

© miriam ivarson

Where does time go

/ delphini510 / 37 Comments

Where does time go

does it go, is our perception askew?
What if time just is? Always there.
Moving like the clouds, like the waves

Being always time, sky and sea.

What about us? Are we just living linear
or are we fluent too?
Always part of the Stars, the Universe, Earth,
living all the time.

Don’t let us limit ourselves with numbers and dates.

Live in peaceful meditation or stormy dance
in Love, always in Love.

With tears when they come and smiles of a child.

© miriam ivarson

Age Old Song

/ delphini510 / 39 Comments

Age Old Song

I walked down to the harbour today
drawn by the scent of the sea;
Before me I saw a scene of life and strength.

Trawlers had arrived back
from their week long work at sea,
from fishing and other lands.

Laughter, strength and sheer vitality;
Filled the air with age old song.

I loved it down there, watching and listening
keeping myself out of the way.
My father knew where I was and gave me a wink,
came and lifted me to the sky.

They loved their work, these men of the sea,
it was hard but they were strong and free.
Their stories fascinated me.

As the men withdrew to BOA,
a centre for repairing nets and making new,
for sharing news and laughs, bellyfuls.
It was also where the Storyteller held forth.

Fantastic stories and wisdoms held all enthralled,
as hands flew at tasks and laughter rose.

In the homes women happily worked,
cooking and singing;
Their men were safely home.

At BOA work and stories paused
as husbands and fathers longed
for their women, children. For home.

Happy as a bird I walked home
my little hand in pappas hand, so strong and safe.

Reaching home my mamma held her arms outstretched,
pappa lifted her up and walking around
sang her a song of love and fun;
A song all his own.

All five chicks following them around
waiting patiently for their turn.

Such joy reigned in our abode.

© miriam ivarson