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Elisabeth Kelly

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the poet

Elisabeth Kelly lives on a hill farm with her family and too many animals. She's been published in numerous anthologies and journals both online and in print, and she's authored three poetry pamphlets: Carbon, Mind Mathematics and Wild Chamomile. Her first children's book is due out in 2022 from Stairwell Books. Among Elisabeth's favourite things are puddings, and the changing of the seasons.

the poems

Otzi and the Giant’s Eye

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                        Sometimes,                         I feel I am curled up                         in the eye of a giant,                         light glints makes an iris                         out of sunbeams that wink from                         the depths of this ice sea.


                        I forget                         for a moment,                         that suffocating pressure                         keeps me still as bonded molecules                         suspend me in a sphere of                         solid fluid.


                        And I wonder,                         if I tap a finger                         against this lens would                         my world fracture into crystal tears                         and cry me out from                         the depths of this ice sea.

Tiny Bird Heart

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                        Light whispers at the window,

                        blue burrows through                         nudges the dark away.

                        Quietly I uncurl,                         the nest gives way,                         as your tiny bird heart                         beats through the sound

                        of your feet dabbling

                        across the floor.

Wild Chamomile

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            It smells of pineapple when your crush it,

            I didn’t know that was the smell,

            until later.


            It is the smell of summer,

            concrete cracks where engine oil pooled,

            rainbows on slurry puddles,

            afternoon trips across fields to find

            an old milking carriage eroding

            in dens of nettles,

            the corrugated roof calling like Sleeping

            Beauty’s turrets full of promise,

            drizzling reality across the rotting wooden floors.


            It is scars created by rusted metal treasure,

            submerged in bogs,

            or broken bottles used on flat stones

            to cut berries,


            it is long days alone.

Publishing credits

Otzi and the Giant's Eye: Dodging The Rain (This Ice Sea)

Tiny Bird Heart: Green Ink Poetry (Discovery Part 2) 

Wild Chamomile: Wild Chamomile (Selcouth Station)

© original authors 2025

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