by Helen Ivory | Apr 6, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Finding the hill again Wear a coat, you’ll pass through light rain at the wood-edge under Helmeth. Sing loudly, so the snakes can hear you. There’ll be birdcall, leaf-mould, path-fall to the brook. You’ll splash the ford and settle to the slope....
by Helen Ivory | Apr 5, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Nature Is Healing “If humans are the virus, pandemic is the cure.” I think capitalism is the virus. We humans are still here. – Naomi Klein It constructs membranes between its most powerful organs, filters pathogens hidden in boats. It...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 4, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
When I read my poem about stretch marks you said it was a funny thing to write about. I felt a flare, low down, an orange hazed ember you’d have to blow into life. Because they’re not very nice to look at you said. The flame caught, scorched...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 3, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Promised a Hedgehog, We Wait in Your Garden Our bodies hinge into smallness, my back pressed into the shelter. Street voices fade, radios are muted, we count house lights twinkle out one by one. On the edge of sleep it comes snuffling through leaf...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 2, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Blown Away The Victorian spinning wheel at the top of the stairs was carved in South Wales around the time this house was built. Somewhere in the carpenter’s breath was a flicker of the blue I chose for the walls when I stripped them to go with...
