by Helen Ivory | Dec 3, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
This is the house With or without hope We always return home (Jaroslav Seifert ) This is the house of lost joys The house where all things come together This is the house Where the humming of the sun is heard Through the cracks of the door...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 2, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
The Walking Woman It’s fog-haze and halogen orange out. Casting her skin more greys than fifty. Illusion: the real illusion is it’s not one. Daylight slubs her palette the same. She’s not ashamed. She’s stoic with her shopping trolley. She’s...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 1, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
What I’ll Do Then I’ll hold a buttercup under her chin, pick a dandelion and tell her it means ‘lion’s teeth’ and we’ll both wonder how clever and sweet I am as we blow our clocks into the wind. Time will stop, the stream will twinkle more...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 30, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Images of the 1956 Hungarian revolution Instead of a Tombstone He shyly closed the lids of darkened eyes, a small red flower blossomed on his...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 29, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Bluebottles “I’m earning my keep” fussing over teapots plates of biscuits, iced with pointed remarks No one asked you to I open a door in my chest coax out the jackdaw, who sleeps in my left ventricle hops onto my palm and...
