by Helen Ivory | Jun 29, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
The Last Train Pulls Away That day, my mother wore her rose-print and wandered from room to room in acres of blossom. She heard a thin, far loophole in the wind sweeter than new-mown hay. Her face was lit. Out of nowhere my father come back from...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 28, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Their Return The people who lived here before, we slowly abolish them by buying beaming new fridges, washer dryers, cookers with fan ovens that actually work and two year warranties, more sofas for the cat to do Tai Chi on. Yet the rooms are...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 27, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Visual Impairment for Rowan when you trace her lines brittle teeth cheek-bones you’ll remember your mother’s face know her by her footsteps when there is cacophony speak and sounds will become ordered new ride the water row and pull until you are ...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 26, 2021 | Featured, Prose
Stirring Ambition As they’d agreed that morning, the three old women met again at the crossroads on the heath, when the sun was sinking. They were beggars, clad in beggars’ rags. War was once more in the land and beggars’...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 15, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Semerwater Open water. Before the crowds come with their floating crafts and litter – I prepare myself. I wait for you to find me, hide within the scar of a fell, secret cavern flooded from the hills. I know you’ve long since stopped believing,...
