by Helen Ivory | Jan 5, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
White Goods As I came down the stairs, the kitchen came upon me, buzzed through my teeth and elbows. The twin tub having a seizure, a St Vitus’ thrumming twist and shout. The shepherd’s crook of the hose clipped to the side of the sink snake-thrashed in...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 4, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Singing With Elvis The Rediffusion is playing Elvis. I am sitting in our dining-room, not sure if we ever called it that. There is a yearning in the young Elvis hitting me like a wet clout. We bond, he is a long-lost brother, singing, ‘Are You...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 1, 2021 | Featured, Poetry, Twelve Days of Christmas
Empties First of Jan, affluent suburb. Stockbridge, but it could be anywhere across the island, in Ely, Richmond, Beauly. In place of regretting they put their empties out, arranged by colour, size, acoustic property. Scores of bottles, neatened...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 31, 2020 | Featured, Poetry, Twelve Days of Christmas
Twelfth Night the weather through the draped window dreich the fire spits and greetings cards make a merry flame as I the audient listen to the sermon of the grate that a living room is empty unless you let in a little light Gareth...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 30, 2020 | News
Postcards from Murree, Pakistan after Nina Mingya Powles 1. We drink milky hot tea from dainty teacups, pastel porcelain. With it, the mist rising in the mountains around us, and petrichor. The sound of children playing, the tips of their shoes pattering...
