by Helen Ivory | Sep 24, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Lyric Poetry I met a traveller from a land Down Under, who said: “What passing-bells for those who die With the lights out? It’s less dangerous Where Angels fear to tread. I grow old, I grow old, O sweet child o’ mine! I want a Hero; an uncommon...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 23, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
To Oscar On the river bed of night I have laid with a pebble pressed into a middle vertebrae, where spades paddled my ribs, I awake. Last year’s dinner gong reverberates in my ears my nose is red, my hair seems further receded, belly more big...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 22, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Growing Like a He spins in wide circles to shake the surging neurons in his head. Before this, I’d said: You’re growing like a weed! He said to stop saying he’s growing like a weed, he said he’s not like a weed at all. He said weeds are bad, unwanted....
by Helen Ivory | Sep 21, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
No Atticus Finch You’re making a box out of a pen, Pandora. I unleash all your suppressed clichés, and twist words uncontrollably. I am you. You am I. What are you playing at, scatterbrain? You’re not extraordinary. You’re another-...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 20, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Outside The Lamb I could say it was innocent: a kiss after a long day, after the pub. I could say it was the gin, but you’d know and I’d know, it’d be a lie – I distract myself with mourning the lost pearl, the one that jumped from its gold post in my ear...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 19, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Credo I believe at the root in breath as a first principle. Breath – the intake, the giving out – is our signature onto the air. Next I believe in the business of seeing and hearing, the processes of light and sound whereby we inhabit the...
