by Helen Ivory | Apr 2, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Mother She cut letters out of me, which quietly and unnoticed danced red poems. In the autumn wind, they fell at her feet and rustled decay. Since then, my name wears holes. I counted myself off on five fingers and planted my remains in the...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 20, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Erato It takes ages. Tell me what it is you’re after she says, when finally I get through. Rain, I answer, rain that falls softly in a garden, and on the Aegean, the noise they make together, trees in the rain, and the way rain brightens the green...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 18, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Olympics I devoured the Olympics, filled my mouth and scrapbook with sticky ephemera. I stalked a torch, seized my shining, perforated prey, and stared into the void of Wenlock and Mandeville’s eyes. Sometimes, I am in the Olympics. I crawl from...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 17, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Craftsmanship beneath night’s skin he unearths raw stones serrated encrusted enigmatic cold tumbling them in two-twenty grit wears away the dull four hundred six hundred highlights the delicate garnet’s exposed seam agate’s...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 16, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Morning Outing with Mum we are at a cafe just round the corner from hampstead heath & sipping berry sunrise smoothies out of soggy paper straws we are watching tangles of cockapoos too many north...
