Marriage Texts

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

no prob x she looked off earlier xx will be out for short time x think she needs attention xxx shes getting screwed **she’s** in head!! πŸ˜‰ x she comes home to it x this me piecing it together xx then heckles up πŸ™ x not in good place at m`o xx HER!x sorry best...


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Untitled

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

supplicant came to mind and I had to check the word but it was right almost fingers twined to prayer but also humbled entreating bowed under the rooted canopy the artist lifted to pull you through the woods Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a...


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30,000 Returns

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

The held blossom in the twitten
reminded me of sakura in Japan -
when we climbed Mount Yoshino -
anami to Oku Senbon .../


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She Gives Away

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

That girl gives away far too much, Stripped her secrets to mens’ wiped touch; Cropped, pulled naked, her clicked-on skin, She’s devoured by those to whom she gives in. Subjected but free, no lens-locked soul, Instead she is instant, no Kodak unrolled. Her surrender of self, in her shared gallery, Is the nearest they get...


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All Fools

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Awake, readied, for April Fools' Day,
one of misplaced apostrophe's...


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By Windover Hill

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

No rich patron for St Andrew's Church,
unmoved by digging at historical facts,
dropped, slumped, almost marooned,
leaving it off-centred on Alfriston's Tye..


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The Inheritor

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I let my grey hair over-grow,
wear out dead man donated clothes,

I occasionally tap paths with my worn-down stick,
missing the beat of my off-time limp.


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Field Work

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I write this, aching from my simple effort, now bench-propped, on Luxford Field, with car shunts and engine revs behind me, then killed, still, replaced (for now) by birdsong. This afternoon, under ripe end-of-March sun, (we will judge once more with warming fears), I wave at the future, Β upright in a buggy, trundled up the...


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Abiogenesis

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

You too have climbed from the alluvial swamp of youth, of immaturity, that dark cloy which sticks, a viscid ignorance, up from that shallow place to our adapted older-selves, without His re-engineering, One’s dulled interest long lost – ever since J. Robert Oppenheimer re-purposed the identity of God, and made mankind the last hope. ‘Survival...


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Let Him Die

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

He wants to die no legal restraint, before the pain is beyond complaint; connect his hope, allow an abate, let him die, for that donate. Crowdfund here Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a time, and then take a nap. By then he should be about...


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