by Helen Ivory | Feb 12, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Solar Farm, Sudbury Two boys balance on a five-bar gate. Ready for take-off, they lean into a field where an alien crop has sprung up among native hedgerows and trees – row upon row of solar panels supplicate southwards like deckchairs on a beach....
by Helen Ivory | Feb 11, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
The Brain’s Last Days Cracked brain, down a backstreet, side alley, bottom of the dumpster. The accumulation of years of thought has broken your spirit Like Hemingway’s, you’ve had enough and the cold gun barrel can’t come...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 10, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Trading Places, Changing Spaces She decided that everything had to go. Absolutely everything. She wanted no reminder of him, not even a speck of dust made from his dead skin cells. She began with the furniture: the office chair and desk with the...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 9, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Wind TurbineMonstrous reaper thrashing arms threshing airor snowdrop on the bright horizon.Lost to night, spinning like the wheel of a ship near wreckor ponderous, arms on a clockface.Or stilled. A crucifixion on the hill. Birdsong breaking across...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 8, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Music Some words strut about like tragedians on stage. Alas! Or bit part play the page quietly stealing scenes. Words on stilts shout above the rabble of the street. Speech is peeling from meaning, the lute’s gold leaf all but flaked away....
by Helen Ivory | Feb 7, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Bio Earplugs For swimming, snoring or noise pollution. Spearmint blue and chewy soft, they tickle your brain, let silence swell. Like slipping under water in the bath, your heart insists on its double bass. For once you hear the voice that’s you....
