![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ink-sweat-and-tears.blogharbor.com\/HelenIvory\/musician-5.jpg\")
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The musician speaks of the Pacific<\/span> <\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n *<\/span>Poem by Helen Pletts<\/span> whose two collections, Bottle bank and For the chiding dove, are both published by YWO\/Legend Press (supported by The Arts Council) and available on Amazon. \u2018Bottle bank\u2019 was longlisted for The Bridport Poetry Prize 2006, under Helen\u2019s maiden name of Bannister. You are welcome to visit www.stem-of-quietly-disarrayed-fertility.com.<\/a><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n *<\/span>Image by Romit Berger<\/span> who says\u00a0 \u201cI am a graphic designer. I met my very dear friend, Helen Pletts, in Prague, several years ago. Helen\u2019s inspiration has led my graphic design career into that magical realm which combines illustration and poetry, and our creative wings continue to connect our souls through time and distance.\u201d<\/span> The musician speaks of the PacificWe are the something of sirens\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 this, our urgent-sound:laughter deepening an acreageof littered whisperings; eyelash sea-greens.Steady me. In this breeze, moments come free.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Place your hands on my shoulders \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and I\u2019ll whistle the breeze about your ears,that\u2019s also free. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 My companion. My don\u2019t know you, yesterday.My knew you […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7,9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-382","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry","category-word-image"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/382","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=382"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/382\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21018,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/382\/revisions\/21018"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=382"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=382"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=382"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
We are the something of sirens<\/span>
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 this, our urgent-sound:<\/span>
laughter deepening an acreage<\/span>
of littered whisperings; eyelash sea-greens.<\/span>
Steady me. In this breeze, moments come free.<\/span>
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Place your hands on my shoulders <\/span>
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and I\u2019ll whistle the breeze about your ears,<\/span>
that\u2019s also free. <\/span>
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 My companion. My don\u2019t know you, yesterday.<\/span>
My knew you not, tomorrow. My deep of calendars,<\/span>
drawn at the net\u2019s mouth, hauled over the industry of turtles,<\/span>
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 creased at the neck by so many days, folded into boxes,<\/span>
that shine in the sun with the shell drum open;<\/span>
I am become the music of Galapagos.<\/span>
Startle me. By showing me mankind,<\/span>
adrift in cars; their latherings of \u2018I must have\u2019, scraping the beaches.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"