by Helen Ivory | Feb 10, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Anorexia Nervosa A vixen or a reason. A rave. No air, no sex, nor ovaries. An axe. A raven axe? O! No, sir! Arson, via an ex. Ore. A ravine. A rose. Nox. Melanie Branton is a spoken word artist from Redfield in Bristol with three...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 9, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Repeat On a bench outside Next, a punctured woman traces circles in the air with a pale finger while her thoughts leak out in a rill of mutterings. Nobody sees her in the busy emptiness of lunchtime. Inside my pocket two small shells – they are...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 8, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Father He is sulphur, he is fire and brimstone, he is deep shame, the colour of night, sound of slamming doors. He is bitterest regrets, dark chocolate, olives and kale, The Telegraph and Magritte’s pipe, the treachery of images. Moments...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 7, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Self-Portrait as an Old Schoolhouse Restless two-hundred-year-old village elder, a ragged playground of words, or is it weeds – fragments of chant to slaps of skipping rope. Sash windows, shoothered open, once shed ample light through dreich...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 6, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Mausoleum A house is a machine for living in.- Le Corbusier I have never climbed a tree, never broken a bone and will never walk on water. I open my little window and worry about possibilities: imprudent intruders of bird or cat, the wind, the...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 5, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
The House Keeps Score The house keeps score in places no one checks any longer. A hairline crack behind the fridge. The soft dip in the hallway floor where grief learned how to pace. We didn’t mark the days after you left. We measured time by...
