A Life Force

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A Life Force

I love his voice caressing my ears
Like chocolate slowly melting in the mouth,
I love his steady gaze as I laugh and dance;
Like sun on the skin a summer’s day.

I love the Blackbird having his morning bath
with splash and preening, making feathers shine,
I love his morning song so full of light
praising the dawn, praising life.

I love my best friend in every way,
her bright blue eyes, her shining hair;
I love the care that shines as we meet,
the laughter we share and at times grief.

I trust her without hesitation,
she holds my hand and I hold hers;
We shelter each other and we fly free.

Could that be what I am trying to say,
Love is a life force
Whatever the situation, love enhances,
Expands our life, expands all creation.

© miriam ivarson

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H O P E

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H O P E

Hope sustains me
hope is life enhancing
hope is positive

It has carried mankind
through pain untold.

Giving us strength to see,
there must be good beyond.
Beyond cruelty, hate, sickness
both of body and mind.

Love, its natural partner
This life giving force,
Sure to be stronger than hate.
Love is Life itself.

Without, all will wither an die;
Like plants in a rainless land.

Lifting my face to the sun
I feel tears in my Heart,
tears of grief for pain untold,
Tears of joy of hope for a world at peace.

You are a dreamer I am often told.
Maybe that is true,
If so, I hope for many dreamers
among you, you and you …

© miriam ivarson

 

 

Hi to Fears

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Hi to Fear

Fear is dark, fear diminishes
Our minds and souls entrapped.
Caught in the net of imagined disaster
We become disabled and stunned.

A confinement we don’t desire.

Say hi to your fears, acknowledge them,
Don’t let them kill who you are.
A child of universe, a star, creativity.
You are that and more.

Let us ask, what do we plant and create
on this Earth of blessings and strife?
May it be beauty, wisdom, love.

Let us make the gift of life count
not drown in non living – alive.

© miriam ivarson

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Objects de’Art

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Object D’Art

Together they mingle in harmony
the arts, bursting from souls
no longer suppressed or withheld.

Paintings of peace in flowing hues,
some in colours of grief.

Same with legends from Wordsmiths,
at times withheld too long;
Now telling their drams and truths.

The sculptor who this moment created a vase
so smooth, glazed in natures hues.

To tell about the many creative forms
would keep us here too long,

First, lest we forget. Always listen,
Listen to your heart.
Without love and passion

all art is just delightful objects d’art.

© miriam ivarson

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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BELONGING

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BELONGING

Where do we belong, each and every one?
What makes our soul sing and our work dance,
what do we seek, in stillness,
alone?

So many questions and no answers,
a teacher I am not.

I love the ocean, both when it rages and smiles,
also I love the forests, meadows and rocks.
They all have their voice, clear and sincere.
As they roar and whisper their eternal truths.

Not a false note nor a lie to be heard,
no lures and baits, just joy and veracity.
The rocks join in with healing vibes.

Among these I belong, feel peace and calm,
where also birds and butterflies live.

Many cities are so beautiful, I grant you that;
In awe I visited many times.
Admired the artistry of buildings famed
of skill and design, of achievements seeming greater than man.

I love visiting these but find the noise and rush,
the tensions and fumes of the streets too much.
Although exciting pulse will attract.

All these thoughts matter, have validity,
but don’t we really belong
with those we love unconditionally
as they do us.

Know us and love us, 
Just for what we are, simply you or I.

© miriam ivarson

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Never forget Love

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Never forget Love

Watching a craftsman one day
I was taken with his calm and skill,
how every sanding, sawing and nail
just seemed to flow from his hands;

Making me wonder about intelligence.

Often those with high degrees and titles
are set above the artisans and their crafts;
Above the unity of heart and action
whilst humming a tune

or working in silence, serene.

Intelligence comes in many forms
But Love only in one,
without which, all created becomes dust;
Knowledge without real life.

Passion and harmony give life to all you do,
to the surgeon’s knife, to the baker’s hands,
To the painter’s brush, to the welder’s torch;
Never forget Love. 

Healing where intellect still debates,
Creating whilst scholars frown.

At best, live in harmony with both.

© 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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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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