by Helen Ivory | Jul 19, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
‘Once Upon a May Day Morning, a Father Takes His Three Daughters on a Greenline Bus Deep Into the Green Rolling Countryside of Kent.’ He packs a picnic, hard boiled eggs with the shell still on to protect them, tomatoes, crisps, ham...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 18, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
Basic Anthropology You liked to break trees, one dry branch at a time, and test your full weight against the centuries inside. When the tree was gone, you longed for witnesses to understand your regret. You liked to burn books in a random sequence...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 17, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
Eight hundred and four full moons I do not – cannot – quite recall How many full moons I actually have or haven’t seen, How many I have missed, So intent on the business of this world, Its instants and circumstances. Put it like this: I only...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 14, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
Lord, grant me… On hot days, the back door stands open to the garden, to sudden wing flurries, sparrow chit-chat. By evening there are bluebottles upstairs, stupidly circling, banging themselves against the place the light comes from. I have been...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 13, 2023 | Featured, Prose
HUT EXIST 32 Something child There is a muttering in the hut, a miniature sandstorm whirled out of the doorway and spiralled into the curtain of evening. The something child ent gonna change. The something ent gonna get old. That and this are my...
