by Helen Ivory | Oct 1, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
How Would You Draw a Bear? after Jen Campbell Grass seeds planted in doormat fur, fish scales stiff between tree-root teeth and the cave-deep noise of animal-sleep. Still, how would you know it for a bear? How would I? You would call it bear, sure...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 20, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Summer’s End Today I tipped the packet of coffee into the cafetiere instead of the tin. Caught myself in time, didn’t pour water in. I’ve started to write notes to myself: Shut bathroom window. Lock back door. Yesterday at the bank I couldn’t...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 19, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Summers in black Who’s idea was it? I think his, as I’d started wearing everything from Oxfam. Among my finds collarless shirts. There was I and my clique, ourselves fearfully fresh, seeking out lived-in things, clothing with more history than us....
by Helen Ivory | Sep 18, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Going down to do lights and curtains to fool any burglars Twilight: one after another security lights click on illuminating pathways, steps, empty front lawns, triggered by my benign progress, then, disappointed, click off. The sky is a layer cake...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 17, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Free Range My thoughts are skittish, peck at whatever they find. I flick each whitewash flake into the bin. Shadows on the walls are darkened rooms in which I lose myself, daily: if I say that I look for this at the edge of every brightness would...
