by Helen Ivory | Apr 3, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Inventory of a Walk On Kinley’s Lane, quince tree, wild blackberries, branches of feijoa reaching over a fence, fallen fruit. Into Abberley Park, past the bird bath with salamanders twisting round the base, down a gravel path. Hellebores, rhodos,...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 2, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Draenog What was the Welsh for ‘hedgehog’? That was what he wanted to know. It was a word he could only remember in his sleep when he dreamt of himself as a small boy, barefoot, back in 1966. The sun was shining. He was wandering across fields...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 1, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Tabula Rasa Rectangular, with corners cut off like an octagon, muddy brown shows through the cream exterior where the edges are chipped. Just the right height for a young child learning to stand. Coloured beakers stacked up ready to be knocked...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 31, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
How many blows does it take to crack an egg? How many blows does it take to crack an egg? Is a question I never expected to ask If you don’t know, I should tell you, an egg Is what they call the girl inside the male mask When she doesn’t even know...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 20, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
wild cows Those full udders will slowly burst spitting milk onto the grass strands. Will roll down to feed the roots below. Then the weeds will follow. Weeds will grow next spring. Weeds will unfold as bulbous udders without holes – un-milked –...
