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Hélène Demetriades: three poems

Head spin

I am the golden dandelion always open

with my gift of yellow

throbbing brightest in my final hour

before my flower folds briskly inwards

to spin herself behind closed doors

into silk white thread.

I am the blowball on a thinning stalk

slowly nodding yes.



In a basin of metamorphic rock

mauve clouds and water lilies

float on the surface of a loch.

A single waxy flower rises

from the waters to toast the sun.

Nearby, the sphagnum pastures roll,

a red bucket has keeled over, mouth wide,

tipsy with astonishment.


A garden carnival

The lily pops her buds,

tongues burnt caramel for the day.

Seedlets sporting teenage quiffs

jostle ready for flight.

The clematis, now drunk, tilt up the palm tree

in a slathering of pink and magenta.

The apple tree arcs,

her lichened bark travelling soundless seas.

Hélène Demetriades is a practising psychotherapist (and poet) living in South Devon. Her poetry can be found in a variety of  journals and anthologies, including Envoi, Obsessed with Pipework, Poetry Shed, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Snakeskin, The Ofi Press, and Eunoia Review. She was highly commended by Patience Agbabi in Marsden The Poetry Village Competition 2019.

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