by Helen Ivory | Jun 6, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Snapped Like the ulna cracked by a boy from a tree or a wishbone pulled between two thumbs I snapped my mind at half past three The frantic flowers of the Persian rugs spliced my brain with their greens and blues like a wishbone pulled between two thumbs My...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 5, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Black earth woods there is a man in the woodpile. wearing the uniform of the ordinary. a hat and a belt. Rolled in wood, the cold metal of the car boot is pressed into my mulchy flesh. I bark. I can do it, if you ask. Stacked bark, bark is my resistance....
by Helen Ivory | Jun 4, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Still Life with Red Cabbages and Onions by Vincent Van Gogh If there is beauty in basic vegetables, earth bulbed sustenance, with their finger-printed lines and licks of bloody light arcing through dull, every day colour, then there can be...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 3, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Nature Plants grow out of her eyes Because all she sees in him is the beauty of nature The chants she stops in her day to listen to The air she exhales And the mud she wipes from her feet But nature is a vicious cycle Two seas mix, the water...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 2, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
I wanted to sleep I wanted to sleep, but then I decided to cycle expressively into an unknown village. I remember not looking out for traffic And then arriving at greenery, village leaves, And an amber sea by the curtains of a cottage. I looked through a...
by Helen Ivory | May 31, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Waiting For the Paint To Dry The paint on the wall; it never seems to dry. Yesterday my brat child ran her fingers through the wet film on the surface of the sheetrock then wiped it on the carpet. I was mad but she just cussed me and then ran...
