by Helen Ivory | Sep 13, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Compline A woodpigeon calls his five-note matins. Petals ratchet wide as the sun rises. A butterfly’s haphazard wing beat. Reverberation of a gong, sandalled feet on tiles. Golden leaves in the gutter, the downpipe’s digestion of rainfall. Petals...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 12, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Redwood The mineral kin would not know me now, I used to be a cone-coiled code, I mean, I was biding, to flicker into joy. Each day I emerge a little, root deeper, canopy wider, longing burnishing my hardening trunk. Distance from the ground has...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 11, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
An Eight Year Old’s May Altar Inside May’s warm beauty I think of God and of the Virgin Mary. I’ve always loved Mary. The time is now — I’ll make a May altar. And I’ll look for my rosary beads. For my Holy Mary I’ll grab the plastic one from the...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 10, 2025 | Featured, Prose
Stanage They approach in hungry morning light, treading the path to the ridge and the row of giant’s teeth grown crooked with the ages. Scanning the plantation below she breathes, inhaling the cold and is lifted by a curlew’s call. This is not her...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 9, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
St Godfric gets canonised three sheep and a sharp wind, behind which I feel involvement start to tug. Not at all like the song I composed halfway up Wear’s Bank. It’s happening too early, before I’m actually dead. This park bench and the beck’s...
