by Helen Ivory | Oct 12, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Breckland Thyme Deadman’s Grave, 2019 With the rabbit-chapped, seeped the sward along: runner-by-runner the undershrub, shored up, stakes its waspish claim, its hereabouts, blotched with drought & the scar the boot left it, rucks the air with...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 11, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
The lesser black-backed gull The gull on the meadow taps her little yellow feet like a shovel-snouted lizard dancing on a floor of lava, a unicyclist balancing on the spot fixated on her singular task. No herring here in the meadow though the sea...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 11, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
the word of the Lord ask this place ask the silver day the steady horizon the self-heal the buttercup the hard fern in the ditch ask the bee and the tormentil this rock smooth as an elephant’s back as you sit and watch the breeze stir the surface...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 10, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Unlocked Dogs in spring park light pulled by intent wet noses through luminous grass haven’t read the news didn’t switch the TV on follow only their noses so what do they know Seán Street’s most recent collection is Running Out of...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 9, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
‘He opens his throat for the crow’ (Matthew Hedley Stoppard) Down the chimney at dawn – crow caw. Wings of night retract. What does it wake me to as sky is hearthed by morning and my home warms slow? Its meaning in my gullet, I learn the way of...
