by Helen Ivory | Jun 7, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Hope lies like the edge of a teaspoon, upward facing, a thickness perhaps enough solidness to knife through a banana or other soft fruit for safety for a baby or to get under the edge of the surface tension of the skin of a grape to start a peel....
by Helen Ivory | Jun 6, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
3am a wooden door slams shut in my brain a man perishes in a space the size of his grave from malnutrition eighty years ago (I travel on my mother’s electric waves that held their spoken words’ shape) I am sorry that the thud left a hole in your...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 5, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Stonevale When I was born the house was full of stones, an old blacksmiths shed. Rubble became walls, became home. I used a brush as tall as me to brush debris, dust, oyster shells. In my blue gingham dress and boots. We lived down from the...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 4, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Homeland And if a land loses its people and they are exiled will a land feel their absence will it dream of their calloused feet on its warm skin will it grieve the touch of hands familiar with the ways of its...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 3, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
We Were Seeds Found poem from trans rights protest and counter-protest on College Green, Bristol, Saturdays 19th & 26th April 2025. The counter protest was quickly drowned out. I. God created man and woman — Let us piss in peace! Only a man...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 2, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
We turned a corner Still I notice the white mole above your lip. Shallow we breathe in leather yew leaves. Branches slackened by tomorrow’s dew. Like Cross Street is a steam room and we are clean white shrouding towels shawled around each others’...
