In our writing we draw inspiration and ideas from nature, people we meet and events in our lives. 

Autumn is now entering and as it advances our surroundings are painted in new and glorious hues. Somewhat rudely Autumn also disrobes so many of our trees that for months have been laden with green in so many stunning shades. A total transformation takes place on a daily basis. A show by mother nature to us.

On that note I want to share a poem with you.                                        

Soft cream and coffee

Dancing Leaves

Like happy feathers they danced
The autumn leaves.
gold, brown and red.
Such a happy dance, it seemed;

As if death was not sad at all.

Can’t say I am advanced enough,
to meet death with the beauty, 
Of the leaves.

      Lacking their peaceful surety
      Of after; 
      Of destiny.

This morning the trees have given,
a lesson so serene.
Maybe one day I will see death
With the ease and the light of the leaf.

© miriam ivarson


Angels on my Path


During five weeks this summer I have had the blessing of a glorious summer break in Sweden. Staying at my Oasis in the forest and on the island of my birth. 

The beautiful nature surrounding me as well as  friends and family have all made each day magic. In the two previous posts I have given you little tasters.

Physically and mentally it has been a healing and enriching time.

Even a potentially dangerous tumble down a steep staircase became a blessing in disguise as I met more angels on the path. Both doctor and nurse gave me hugs filled with care and empathy. 

Apart from listening to the trees, grasses, blooms and rocks whispering their secrets I also met angles. Angels in the shape of people; they made my heart sing.

The strength of us all when we open the sluices to our heart is what will make this shimmering planet whole.

Let the drums from many high places roll. The strength we all possess when we open the flow of love and care is a force greater than shout.

Below is a poem I wrote a while ago when another event really opened my eyes.



I met an Angel
didn’t know at first;
It had no wings as pictures showed,
Just looked like you and me.

I was in distress and there It was
Only eyes and words set It apart,
She looked calmly into my heart,
The voice was kind and sang of love.

Suddenly stormy waves stilled
My eyes and heart filled with peace,
The boat was on right keel again
On a stormy sea, now becalmed.

How many Angels don’t we meet
In shops, streets, in a Cafe,
You wouldn’t notice at first.
Their eyes are warm and look deep,
you will know you are cared for,                      
You are known.

Their love will lift
With light step we will walk,
They have shown the stars, the moon.
Music from the Spheres fill our hearts
With peace and joy we continue our day,

Having learnt it is kindness
Not wings,
Love and care that is the mark,
The Mark of an Angel on your path.

© miriam ivarson

Lit from within

Walking the garden this beautiful morning I felt the urge to share with you what I saw.


It seemed lit from within
Lit by love
and by the sun above,
As it shared its nectar
with bees and butterfly,


Its brightness and fragility
shining with joy and love,
Stream of healing flow.


Bursting with life,
bright as the sun;
telling us to fill
our shadows with light.


Next I chatted with Mr Blackbird,
so proudly showing off
a beak filled with worms;
Dinner for the family.

I told him he was handsome
and clever too;
He nodded his head vigorously,
losing one worm.

Please join me now for a drink,
sitting among them all,
Not even meditating;
Just breathe.


Lavender Bear



How many of us I wonder, have planned a post we really think will be good, only to be thwarted at the last moment? In “To a Mouse” Robert Burns says “ The best laid  schemes o’mice an’ men Gang aft a-gley,”

Well, I have a short record in this blogging world but so far three out of five planned posts have been pushed aside by another eager idea.  Amazingly powerful voices that play havoc with our schemes/plans.

This time it was for me a poem I had almost forgotten; it might start out sounding childish but it also has a deep question for so many of us in our Western society.

As to childish, don’t they all live inside us; the little child, the teenager, the adult and on we go. I find they are all  very alive and content together and I cherish them all.  One without the others would be a life in a box.

So it is that I today give you “Lavender Bear”.


Lavender Bear

In the small hours,
when sleep eludes,
we sit together, Lavender Bear and I.
A candle lit, softening the dark
him doing exercises whilst I sip,
a warm drink, wondering;
Where did Morpheus go.

Has body and mind lost
the simple contact, harmony,
Rhythm between nature and man?
Does the brain suffer superiority complex?
When will it ever learn its place.
Universe just is and so am I.

Lavender Bear sleepily agrees.

So we look for the off button,
Together listen to silence,
soft hum of sphere’s song.
Without duality
Being its eternal self.

Gently we settle again,
Lavender Bear and I,
To listen, to learn.
From Cosmos itself.

© miriam ivarson





I promised myself to post only once a week and have
( what I think ) a good idea – alas, that one has to wait.

You see,  I was sitting out with breakfast in the garden
today, a most ethereally quiet and beautiful morning. Even the
trees and bushes were hushed. Only the odd tender branch
felt any breeze and fluttered. The birds sang Sotto Voce,
so enchanted was all and I know I was blessed.

So I want to share with you a simple poem called
“Enlightenment” that came to me early yesterday morning.
As often happens, the Impish being – I now call it “Water nymph”-
as I am so often interrupted whilst showering. In and out of the
shower makes for quite moist scribbling. I am not complaining,
after all I also like water.
Besides, this “Water Nymph” lovingly embraces my heart and makes
the sun shine in corners I didn’t know of.


Do we discuss too much?
should we just do,
Be enlightened as we go;
Feel the wonder,

Memories of such fullness
flicker past;
Scrubbing home woven carpets,
laid out on granite rocks, by the sea;
scrubbing with green soap,
humming with content,

carpets my mother wove,
every colour, expressing her;
Her light spirit, song and love.
In their creation, she felt gladness,
she didn’t know the word
Just sang.

The same on baking day,
she just sang,
it rang out far and wide;
The bread rose golden,
enchanted we were drawn,

‘Enlightened’, with a smile,
she handed the golden fare,
with contentment we rushed out,
happily played as we ate.

She was enlightened,
but didn’t know the word.

© miriam ivarson

First lot out