by Helen Ivory | Nov 20, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
A Conspiracy of Chapstick I think it’s for the same reasons that artists do their best work when they’re heart shattered, tormented or why musicians make better music when they haven’t been sober for longer than they can...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 19, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Extract from March haiku / tanka Jorie Graham wrote ‘the past is senseless.’ Yet I strive to make sense of the present by understanding the past. During Lent this year, we stayed in an old Provençal house in Provence Verte. There was no internet...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 18, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
The Only Clue Despite the sun’s cutting crew finally braking through, our ozone layer being sliced in two like a climatic finale to end all shows. Despite office blocks and houses, retail parks and shopping centres, road humps everyone hates incinerating...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 17, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Lemons When life sent lemons she could cleave them in two with just one blow. Then squeeze them dry with one hand till the juice ran down to her elbow. And the pips popped out. To that juice she’d add sugar. She’d make sweet lemonade. So what now?...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 16, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Insignificance The sea that bears you is agitated today dusted with tiny wild whitecaps rushing headlong at the ragged shore. You are one small wave surrounded by your own kind. The land does not notice you no matter what color you may offer:...
