by Helen Ivory | Jan 22, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
The Creative Man Our first cramped council house was taken up by the mahogany dining table my dad used for a desk. I remember beautiful fountain pens; jars of cloudy water; coffee cups spotted with ink. The way his soft shadows darkened across a dozen...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 21, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Threadbare This blanket that I took from you at six, you never forgave me. A christened gift that you wrapped your dolls in and sniffed, sleeping, dreaming, breathing deeply. White threads like a net remind me of the blanket, bloodstained and wet that they...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 20, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Morning Rain for Kelly Sturner This morning there was much rain, forcing the birds into trees, the butterflies beneath leaves. I stand at the open window, listening for the cool silence between raindrops. I begin to wonder about time machines, about...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 18, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Longest Night It is still dark outside. Still but for water pouring, cascading down the steep, wooded slope. No rain now, nor wind. The world turns and breathes gently, mildly. I would like to tread the saturated earth but must do it from here, from the...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 17, 2013 | Prose & Poetry, Word & Image
Last Post: Holkham Beach Sometimes, when storms muster the tides, I can recall that there were more of us; we were unified. But, with each pull and push,...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 16, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
August, Departing Here’s the stain, heaved out and an orchard of clouds sleeping. The crows flee warm fugitives on August’s blunt edge. I see a distant coldness, the skirt of the sun shirking. The tide is loud with the drowned and the windy chains of...
