The Tide Mill

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

This unwelcome wash of fatigue – a tide – a fall from awareness – felt in tipped eyes – cross-stitched by my ill-fit disease – me – an early riser – not any longer – as this wave drags   Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one...


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Parents (sic) Evening

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I return to my schooling over parquet flooring, in repeats of bruised corridors, between their mending places, but now to hear about bug fixes and performance improvement. This Parents Evening of the lost, (always missing an apostrophe?), in a maze worthy of Daedalus, where hard logarithms rule my expanding distance from kids: I compare and...


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The Artist’s Poem

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

In my dreams, there is silence,
not that conscious switch-off
...


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Small

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

You, mine, ever-untouched a local distance, my unexplored smallest thing, my yet-to-erect, my yet-to-strip, huge-to-be mistress, still without a cry under me, here, your Fisher King, moved, no place, a groin-wounding.   Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a time, and then take a nap....


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Gone

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

It is hard to know
where time has slipped,
how each of our days are torn,
tossed words...


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No Country

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

You know, no more war-won rewards, the demobbed wonder of victory-fixed asset (assured recovery): Hope is broken, redacted, buffed wards pulled asunder. Weep for our withdrawn beds, now priced up, re-numbered. 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...


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Mrs. M

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Risen, our ghost,
on this landing,
her, embalmed,
our prior owner
...


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Next Request

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Listen, please listen, I want to tear you apart, this is my loudest most immoral of pleads, to be the next witness to your dropped guard, to have you bared now, bring yourself on to me, opened, turned out. Honestly. Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one...


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The Summoner

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Your exhumed past
should not be here,
a dwindled forget,
such forms be gone..


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The Late Shift, Again

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Another ridiculous o’clock finding me drawn at my desk, hauling creativity and effort from finite resources that, when I am slow and upright, need my re-engineered stick, but not here, sitting, making other worlds and other places to help win Soho agencies their prizes, small fools’ jewels: My rude award is their money, ninety days...


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