Not Running

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Walking away, drawn, our premier-ready stadium: Down again, sloped, to the station crossing. Fans halted, the Brighton train isn’t running. 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 85 years old and have out-gunned...


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Wrong Side

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Let me try to explain what my life dictates: I’m driving on the wrong side, where I have to think, again, no usual moves, re-school my reactions, to get by, to cruise, on new-normal functions; my engine, a metaphor, without lubrication, add lack of sat-nav, and tail-backed impatience. Let me maintain this license, still free,...


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Withnail is I

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Here stood desk-leant
now feeling fine,
knocking back left over
swigs of wine
.....


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Requires Improvement

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Education, a subject, which we all mastered,
to different degrees of certified achievements;
once left, rejected, we turned our backs on it all,
but then comes parenting, and you head back to school
.....


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Walk Back, Writing

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I am wobbly, walking home, late, some o'clock,
a trespassed short-cut, over dampened grass;

freezer section-stiffed, a chill in the air,
through this low estate, town-planned care:
.....


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Sayings, Hearings

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

You say the things you say,
to protect the ones you love,
but those hardened words
go beyond 'just enough'.
.....


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Gravel Voices

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Jean's gravel route,
no different to ours,
just an over-the-road
distance
.....


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Pre-digital

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Thinned hedgerows,
roadside, were alive,
brown-spooled,
with magnetic tape
.....


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Making Hay

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I headed down
the High Street,
sloped to the river,
baked, dust-blown
....


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Laid

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

We are, both, naked, bedded,
but still winter duvet-pinned,
the throaty pigeons’ monologue,
our only laid-in disturbance.
.....


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