Too often I hear the expression “my life is on hold”and it startles me. I can see this wall building up, a veritable tsunami wave. Life itself protesting as it can never be put on hold. Will always move.

Imagine the avalanche as the man / woman gets the job or moves home! Should life then crash down and drown us all?

Forgive my meandering and dramatic imagery but this is how I feel. The phrase “ Life is on hold” is a disharmonious chord.

It reminded me that today is tomorrow’s yesterday. With these thoughts I give you also a little poem about the flow.


Forever Now





Have you ever stopped, looked at something so beautiful
it makes you hurt, bring tears to your eyes.
Equally so, been deeply touched by an encounter, a kindness
or simply something you observed during a busy day?

Physically, mentally and emotionally we will each day be moved
and stimulated by what we meet and see.
Body and soul in unison will sing a song. These are wonders that
fills and lifts me anew every morning.

This week I will simply share with you one of these wonder,
The Moors.
Having lived and worked many years in two towns situated
among these wondrous moorlands my heart sings in gratitude.

The Curlew

Walking the moors a spring day
This boundless, wild land,
emitting rejuvenating,
sublime and heavenly scent.

See the Curlew fly,
perfection on wings;
Hear their anthem, their call;
So clear and spiritual
in this expansive dome.

They come in spring,
build nests for their young;
feed on grasses, heather and fern.
In so doing they lift our soul,
to soar with them in song

Should I ever leave,
They will forever remain,
bright in my heart and mind;
They are part of me now,
like the ocean vast.

Beloved moors, so shimmering,
so changing each day,
I feel blessed to know you,
Your welcoming rolling hills,
colours and air forever crisp,

lest it be forgot,
I say it again.
Thank you dear Curlew
for your beautiful song.

A sound too sheer for a concert hall.

©miriam ivarson

Although I have many stories about the mysteries
and magnetism of these rolling hills I will let the song
with Spinners  “ The Rambler”  tell their tale.

My Window


My  Window

Some of my best friends are what popularly

is described as “Bloggers”.

Through following them I have been fortunate

to meet and care for many of their followers

and fellow Scribblers.


You are some wonderful and imaginative men

and women, ready to share your gifts. To dare

be open about your lives, your beliefs, travels,

there are too much to list.


After long and soul searching deliberation I have

decided to open my window wide. Let the invigorating winds and breezes flow.

To embrace people from around our beautiful planet.

To share with you.

As I dare take the step and cautiously open that window

I comfort myself that to create a symphony we need all the

instruments.  Be they big and small.

This is how it all started.



I got a bump on the head

Walked around dizzy and confused.

A Muse walked in, took my hand,

wrote a poem with me.

I read it in surprise.

Bewildered I wondered,

How could this be?

The muse will soon leave,

When bump on the head has healed.

But the impish Being stayed,

at times I ask her to wait – whilst I finish

shower, call or a chore.

It has lifted my spirit to have

my Muse around,

Wise full of fun and care.

Is concussion a cheap price to pay?

Should I say ‘thank you’

to the lorry driver

who bumped the car?

He did after all,

open the door for The Muse.

A lesson to be learned,

In most difficulties

we will find,

The seed to wisdom and joy.

©  miriam ivarson