by Helen Ivory | Feb 12, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Silent Egg Eating And all we can hear are the birds, keeping up their incessant conversation, whilst we, war weary and broken, eat eggs in silence; pushing our spoons through this beginning stuff, avoiding eye contact but keeping pace, the salt of...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 11, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Dog Watching the Waves Aldeburgh, 2011 Long-eared and scruffy, he’s mesmerised by the waves scampering towards him like rabbits instantly sucked back into a calm that falls over the edge to water another world, a better world perhaps, and blessing that world...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 10, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
This is Not a Poem You have a child, a baby just learning to walk and he wears a blue snowsuit. He moves across the frost-tinged grass, each faltering step seems to wobble all through his body up to his head and then suddenly he sits as if with a...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 9, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
adonis Thursday morning in Walthamstow Opens its eyes on a puzzle of Back gardens Limp washing lines and paths Hidden by upswept petals. The ash tray flower pot Is mounting a resistance The kettle is not yet set to boil But it glows In the semi-dark...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 7, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Looking For Ghost Towns 1. Morning in Colville National Forest Jon sleeps like a dead man in the bed of the truck. My fingers hurt in the cold. The fog rolls in around the bend. The sun, a pale dot behind gray clouds. Off the road, the ground is soft,...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 6, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Revelations The air smells of burnt wheat and thunder, an atmosphere compelled to tell the future. Rain showers the paving slabs, creating mirrors that steal the shadows from under our feet. I am dressed heavenly in white, marching...
