Discourse with Friends

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Discourse with Friends

I wish I could speak with animals
in their language or mine,
What a wonder to hear each one;

What would the lion have to say
or the bird in the tree?

I might be careful speaking to Crocodile,
when he says hello I might fall in;
He might choke.

Mr and Mrs Elephant are high on my list,
so huge, yet gentle and kind. 
They could tell how to rear the young;

Also tell about their fear of homo sapiens,
especially those carrying killing machines.
Their sadness and grief at bereavements,
losses of mothers, fathers and kids.

They ask why?

To comfort myself I walk into the sea,
play with the Dolphins and listen
to the bright and happy exchange.

Their spirits are high but there is a sadness too,
do you know what happened to our food?
So much is now harming our young – and us all.

Meeting Mr and Mrs Elk in the forest glade,
they said the same as the Elephants,
also added, do you know why?
What could I say?

Mankind is yet not enlightened enough,
can’t understand;

The Sanctity of Life.

© miriam ivarson

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T I M E L E S S

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TIMELESS

are the Spheres’ whispers and music
the moon and the stars.
Among all noise and commotion,
the heavens just serenely are;

Spreading life giving light and warmth.

Timeless,
the word floated past this morn
tickled my spirit and tongue,
a delicious word
What does it mean to you or me?

I don’t doubt the timelessness
of oceans and seas,
Believe they will always hum and roar;
Their soothing, eternal and rhythmic song.

Whilst storing heat for our Earth.

The sky above, so exhilaratingly vast,
star studded at night.
I am sure it will always be
Timeless, beautiful, filled with mystery.

As to our beautiful, shimmering Earth,
how will it stand the test of time?
Our husbandry is awry and must improve
May we find harmony with the planet we love.

What about us humans, will our love, thoughts,
Creativity of all kind,
be a timeless force
forever drifting in the ether and inspire.

© miriam ivarson

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A bit of my heart

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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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FEROCIOUS EGO

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Ferocious Ego

Mingling among the festive crowd,
a party in lively swing,
I was struck by the conversation
or the lack thereof.
Many had much to say,
louder and louder.
Few did listen nor respond.

A greedy entity ruled,
Ego was its name.

Happily the triffid fed
Growing, thriving,
Gluttonous.

Unhindered it will expand,
causing damage untold,
Including wars, suppression, greed.
Given the chance.

Unmask this mutant called Ego,
Stand it naked in clear light.

Take a daily inventory
of our inner selves.
Our aims, our thoughts;
so we can stop.
Ego’s mushrooming growth.

As long as it rules
We will never live:
Just exist in the future,
The past
In more.
Never now.

© miriam ivarson

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Deny Your Heart

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Deny the Heart

Friendship, love, care
are they but one?
Philia, Agape, Eros
blending to a singular Self,

one without the other
the circle is broken;
A sickle moon.

Love born by the spirit,
Sensuality
Kindness,

aren’t they part,
of being complete?

How can we then deny?
Close the heart in a safety box?
so as not to get hurt,
kill what we are
what we can be;

Fearing Life itself.

The little bird in your hand
rescued but stunned,
tender is our love,

as is holding a child,
so trusting and soft;
Who with a smile wins our hearts,

as a loved ones kiss on your neck
whilst you pen your lines.

© miriam ivarson

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photos by miriam ivarson

THE BOX

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The Box                            

He tried to put me in a box,
not a happy choice.
Put a cat in a box,
disaster will befall
So, don’t try with me.

I warn you, I will mess up
every box on that form will overflow.
When and where were I born?
Do you work or not.

I only sprained my toe.
I say with a sigh.

Wherever we go, we tick boxes,
fill in forms with narrow spaces for lives lived.
panic, the line is too short,
My life doesn’t fit at all.

I pray there will never be a form,
a form for a “home” for the old.
I couldn’t do that at all.
I rather take what I own, and flee.
To somewhere with no boxes to fill.

Where young and old live together
With honour, respect and joy.
Where we all share and help.
Live in dignity.

© miriam ivarson

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BAREFOOT GIRL

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“You are led
through your lifetime
by the inner learning creature,
The playful spiritual being
that is your real self.”

quote from Richard Bach

With this beautiful quotation as introduction I give you a poem which has two clear              
layers. Isn’t it true that we are led through our lifetime, from the seeming safety of our home villages or environments to seek and carve out our own life and adventures. We might fail many times and and try again.  Without searching I guess we would not know our own truth.

I would love to hear your responses.

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BAREFOOT GIRL

        Barefoot girl ran free
        her feet in harmony;
        In harmony with earth,
        with reality.

        She smiled with pure joy.

        Barefoot girl grew up
        she did good.
        Went to the city, 
        studied law; 
        She became an attorney.

        she smiled with success.

       Barefoot girl ran in high-heeled shoes
       she felt the glow of admiration,
       she had a Penthouse apartment.
       She had happiness,
       so she thought.

       Barefoot girl went home to say hi,
       she cried,
       Her feet no longer knew the earth.

      © miriam ivarson

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photos courtesy of Pixaby

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.

COVER

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

OUR VILLAGE

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OUR VILLAGE

Togetherness, care, listening and love are some of the major ingredients that binds a village to a homogenous place of comfort – of home.

During the time I have been part of the blogging there have been so many events, so many words and gestures that have warmed and filled me.

Voices from every corner of the world. An amazing feeling. Through words we manage to make ourselves real and as in any conversation we reveal more and more of who we really are under the layers of politesse and traditions. The being that is not just formed by other’s opinions but dare seek out their own. 

I feel great gratitude to be part of this Village and may we all keep striving for continued generosity and sharing.

As I cant give you any fun little gifts I send all warm hugs and ask you to join hands for a huge ring dance.

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OUR VILLAGE

You are all my friends, I thought with warmth
as I scanned each icon and face
of those who came to say hello,
maybe even stayed a while;

Shared the view from my window,

A rush of love shot through my heart,
I could hear your voices, your words
as you told of thoughts and events,
Also listened to mine;

I felt and partook in your light and dark
we also shared angst,
Questions of what life is about,
joy for all we are given.

Like a village we are,
talking in the square or coffee shop;
Sharing laughs and tears,
you matter much, each one of you,

Much more than I knew
I hope you understand.

Without knowing you helped me
through some hard times,
made my heart sing a new song;
Your kind words gave me confidence;

Confidence to sing.

© miriam ivarson

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.’

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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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