Unravelling Emotions

Unravelling Emotions

I am in shock with all this relaxation
my friend said to me this morning;
Startled I thought, how could that be?

Could all the tight knots have unravelled too fast,
causing emotions to swing – all lose;
Even a bit giggly or softly smiling

As again she could feel, happiness and breeze.

It took a long gentle sleep filled with dreams,
Dreams of clouds forming shapes in the sky
of walks on soft sand along the sea.

No frightening numbers filled the morning today,
just joy of being, simply being alive.
To see white doves on neighbours roof
and small birds busy feeding in the garden,

On feeders my friend filled last night.

© miriam ivarson

Enslaved

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Enslaved

The word makes me shudder and yet,
have I not been there myself? I wonder,
as I witness the seemingly subtle bonds,
that weaves a web for many of us;

Silken maybe, tighter as time goes.

Disguised under umbrella of love and fun
the bonds keep weaving with beautiful words,
with tempting events, tantalizing baits.

I wake up ever now and again and muse,
what happened to my dreams and plans.
All that meant life to me?
How easily did I abandon my gifts.

I should fly for while, to find me.
To recall and feel who I really am?
Find my dreams, my enthusiasm.
Set myself and my dreams free.

Find those who dance together
Yet leave space for all to grow,

In respect and love for each other’s Identity.

© miriam ivarson

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WHERE IS IT NOW

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I wrote the poem / lyric below a couple
of weeks ago and smiled at its seeming 
childishness. Snippets of strong memories
we all have but what is this. A song? A poem?

Listening to people in America talk with such
glow about Thanksgiving and family togetherness
I revisited this poem and realised.
It is just that, praise and gratitude to a home 
and people who made it so warm and safe.

So, with this I wish you across the Atlantic a
Happy Thanksgiving and all of us gratitude to 
love given in any form.

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WHERE IS IT NOW

I once had a dream
such a beautiful dream,
But the dream flew elsewhere;

I now wonder, where is it now,
is the ether keeping it away?

I once had a doll from Aberdeen,
I loved her so dearly
She even could say ‘mama’,

I often wonder, where is she now,
did the loft fairy take her away?

I once had Red skiing boots,
they were so very new,
Smelled sweet and shone,

I wonder, where are they now,
are they still skiing, all red?

I once had a hut high among the rocks,
we built it ourselves,
It was a most wonderful place.

I just wonder, is it still there,
home for other young to dream?

All the treasures I once had
that gave me so much joy,
they still make me warm;

I only wonder, as they live in my heart
are they happy,
Knowing they are loved?

© 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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A FLOWER TO BEHOLD

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To dream the impossible dream, is that what we do? All of us who believe in  harmony among people on our Planet?
Who dream of of peace for Earth itself?

I am a dreamer and in spite of some shrugging shoulders I intend to remain so.   

I have an inkling that the majority of people share this very  dream. It might seem futile to an observer of world events but we have to look closer at all who surround us in our daily life.
At all who join together in joys and sorrows. Who give a supporting arm when needed, a caring word for a fellow being, a smile for those we meet. 

We feel the bond that links us in spite of different world opinions. We inhabit this Earth, we need each other.

There is much cruelty in our world and sickness of mind. The more I observe people around me I am however convinced that the majority believe in the good in man and dare display it in their daily life

So let us make our voices heard, express ourselves, each in their own way.
Spread sunshine and hope where we go.

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A FLOWER TO BEHOLD                               

May all the world’s leaders
around the table,
Be given a flower to behold.
To study in silence, fifteen minutes or more,
its delicacy, serenity and peace;

Quieting anger and unrest.

Don’t let ego, hunger for power and greed,
stand in the way of creating a world,
Fit for all.
Listen to people of the world,
open your hearts, your souls;

Can you hear their hunger and dreams,
Hunger for beauty, peace, meaning and truth.

Allow us all to shine like the flowers,
in tune with creation;
End the wars, killings, cruelty.
Free every child, woman and man.

Embrace humility, quietness, love
so you can hear, can understand;
Abnormality of wars,
don’t trample on life
don’t crush it to death.

The alternative is grim;
Obliteration of this Earth,
Death to a wondrous gift.
To dust you will turn us all.

An appalling and shameful deed

© miriam ivarson

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