Conversation

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Conversation

Conversation is a flow of thoughts
of listening, truly listening,
response with the ease of ripples,
With the joy of a stream.

Let it be the smiles between you
and the tears too,
thus your hearts can meet
Sing in harmonies bright and new.

Your mind will want to play, so let it;
Care that the balls flying between
are soft and gentle.

Always mindful of listening to each word,
keep it still before the next throw.

Let there be quiet within whilst you digest,
kernels of truth and wisdom, let them sift;
Let them grow
whilst you rest in a forest glade.

There are shouts and angry speeches,
on media, podiums and private groups;
Don’t mistake this for conversation
suppression is a more apt sentiment.

So, please, join me by the clear stream
in joyful and caring commune.

© miriam ivarson

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CHANCE ENCOUNTERS

 

      CHANCE ENCOUNTERS                                          

      I met a gracious lady, she smiled,
      light lit her eyes;
      I dropped a curtsy to the wise woman
      showing my respect.
      Do we honour those wiser than us, often enough;

     The Lady spoke to me, we shared,
     experiences of life.
     of joys, pains and love.
     Her road was gilded but her heart had bled,
     my mother would love her, that is enough said.

     We walked among  roses, talked about heroes,
     of our children, with humour and delight, 
     about countries and people.
     About the sky, the oceans and nature’s force.

     We found unity.

     I walked up a mountain in a far away land,
     met a Shepherd resting with his flock.
     You have come, he said, seeking long
     please sit down, share my fare.

     Quietly I did as the old man said.

     We talked softly about life,
     its passions and grieves, it’s beauty and joy.
     What can you hear, the old man asked
     I was quiet for a while, then said;

     The mountain stream, the wind through the grass.

     The old man smiled and his eyes shone bright.
     You have come a long way, he said
     but you found the core of peace.

     Do never forget the mountain stream, the wind
     Let stillness and wonder live in your soul.

     © miriam ivarson

The creek (crick) outside our balcony

Sorrow and Strength

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Sorrow and Strength

Grief is commensurate
to the depth and intensity
of love;
Part of your life is gone
future dreams an empty abyss.

Leaving you to face bottomless pain.

Is the deep trauma of so much love
worth the price of loss,
someone asked.
Yes. A resounding yes
rose from my cracking heart.

You will never live fully without.

In numbness, suffering, confusion
We do not yet know,
that through the pain, this purgatory;
New strength will germinate.
Will grow,

new course will unfold
new clarity of mind and soul.

Often I think of my mother,
thank her for teaching me love,
with kindness, laughter and song.

My father was my hero
until I let him be a man,
He often visits me from beyond.
I thank him for teaching me strength,

about the world we live in
about honouring each man.

My uncle who sang so serenely
of Swallows arriving in spring;
Lifting hearts to the heavens.
Like an angel he was and is.

So the unfathomable pains,
that seemed to crush the heart
Has turned to deep and rich wells,

that is with me each day.
My great love for those passed,
my grief;
Is now my smile and strength.

© miriam ivarson

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SECRETS

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I will not regale you long today as I feel the music
and hopefully the poem will speak for me.
I do so hope you will listen to the music, it has a         
tremendous start with musicians playing on a hill in a 
stunning location. 

 

SECRETS

Will we leave this planet
with secrets untold,
Nuggets of beauty and grief
stories of joy, maybe rue;
I fear this is so, do you agree?

Tears felled for a year or more,
playing favourite songs each night;
Because he or she was gone,

or listening to magnificent symphony
Beethoven’s Fifth it was,
resting in a warm and firm embrace
feeling death was same as life;

Float in the ether in peace never felt.

Dancing tango down the Kings Street
singing in unison, not to loud he said
the friendly policeman on beat.
Feeling exhilaration and life’s flow;

The secrets of darker hue,
those who left deep scars,
will they forever be hidden;
Like atomic waste secured.

Maybe they better remain untold?

© miriam ivarson

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Fountain of Youth

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Reading many wise thinkers’ thoughts about life, what 
gives lasting fulfillment and inner aliveness,  brought me to 
the question of retaining this fountain of youth. Of being 
fully alive.

To dare live here and now as Eckhardt Tolle teaches in his 
wonderful books makes us younger both physically and spiritually.
To feel each moment and not see it as a transport to the next.
By living so in our daily life, our faces relax and find the ease of
a smile. Strength to live life to the full and let our inner selves pour forth. To find clarity.

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Fountain of Youth

Does it really exist,
or is it a state of mind?
The thought came unbidden
as I walked,
along the ocean shore.

The waves from the Atlantic
relentless, forceful,
singing their eternal song;
Powerful, soporific
profound,

dynamic organ to gentle,
sweet percussions;
as my ears, my being tuned in
revealing a mighty orchestration.

Eyes filled with tears of joy
as the morning sun revealed,
nature in all its beauty,
Splendour and hues.

Feet delighted in the surf
as tides reached, caressed,
and at times unbalanced me
with their strength.

I found my smile again,
full and free
as gradually the Atlantic hymn
filled my soul, my ears,
My whole,

leaving woes and fears behind;
who earlier seemed invincible,
so strong;
Where now drowned
By unending sea.

You look so young
I heard every day;
your smile is so bright.
Could it be so simple, I thought?
Have I found along the shore,

The Fountain of Youth?

Letting frowns and worries
be erased by the ocean sound.
Bringing forth who I was,
who I am;

As I walk along
the smile fills my heart,
opens it wide.
The crashing waves are me
as are the shifting sands,
We are one and the same.

A feeling so boundless and free

© miriam ivarson

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DEVOTION

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DEVOTION

he said, the young man at my side
“Now I understand.”

Sitting in a mighty Cathedral for the first time,
this beautiful young man just looked;
his eyes followed the marble pillars, the ceilings;
work of incredible beauty and strength.
I kept quiet whilst he drank it in.
After a while, with unshed tears shimmering he said:
“Now I understand” 
It is Devotion “.
So simple, so big his words came.

I couldn’t believe in any religions, they all fight and kill.
Same with politics, he said. They haven’t understood us
at all.
It is Devotion, it is the best word I can think, 
said the 16 year old.

He made tears fill my eyes; I love him so.
I took his hand and and said; “ I see God in your face”
I also hear him in music you create.
We shared a moment that will forever last.

I look at your face and I see God,
also in music from the heart;
I see him in a great paintings too,
I hear God in the whispering grass.

So don’t paint God with long beard
He might be a she – or a storming cloud;
the Sun that warms and give light,
or the smiling moon keeping watch at night.

Create with passion and devotion
in shimmering marble, coloured glass;
in the music you hear in your heart;
We are all part of the Stars.

© 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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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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