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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)

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S h a r e

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