by Helen Ivory | Nov 25, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Encountered a man ‘And I, too, used to carve and serve up great failures for myself in youth,’ said the old flapping man. I met him on a bus throttling ourselves south to stay warm. I had bundled sorrowfully into a corner hoping for silence...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 24, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Train You’d have thought that my journeying from Telford to London would be enough time to read these poems to darn a jumper to stare out the window; but between the announcements the ticket inspection the dark-light of tunnels the loud...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 23, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Lessons i And him with his track record – he should have known to leave school left, not tag back to the party on third-hand word of hi-jinks, an ex-prefect break-in unlocking the Botanics for hothouse booze and maybe things might get a little...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 22, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Sieving I know about stars. They’re far away have nocturnal habits and hide from the day, and when I lie hair rasping a pillow of sand fingers sieving cool grains, shrinking clumps in each hand, I can watch them for hours. Those that drop from...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 21, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Two Benches Away Screaming to a halt, and I mean screaming, they fell onto the bench the wheel chair not suited to the steep slopes of Criccieth. They were still laughing when the rest of them arrived, residents and carers, out for more than a...
