by Helen Ivory | Jul 2, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Something started you to wake, leaving sockprints in the parquet, there was only the dark, until a hair sliver of light softly glowed on your feet asleep. Behind the closed door, he was there, your father, smoking quietly with himself...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 1, 2026 | Featured
The D-Road We’ve come this way before and will again. On good days, we sing along to the radio, turned up to make the silence rattle. The packet sits in my lap until she asks. It’s a two-handed operation to fill the long vee, balance the filter. I...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 20, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Wake (Leaving Amorgos, Greece) The ferry pushes the sea, forces a long, white reply that speaks of where we’ve been – a hulk of rock, a prison in the time of the Colonels, now a place of painted chairs, fairy lights. I lean over, try to read...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 19, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
A November anniversary In a corner chapel of the abbey I lit a small candle, and sent the flame as a message only half composed to somewhere I hardly believed in. Room is restricted on the ferry: six cars, a few pedestrians and dogs, all of us...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 18, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Sabbatical there’s not much you can do when the planets are telling you to stop and gravity, who only wants the best from us, says get down to the ground, that you are wanted, and so you obey, become as asphalt or fertiliser. you press...
