Stick Man, East Hoathly

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

A concrete rippled ramp,
Past-scarred by drain movers,
Short vein of fix-tarmac,
Rolled 'tween cast covers.

A skinny, resolute,
Clump of grass,
Too rough for the lawns,
Fights up through the path.

An inert alarm box,
Above bolted doors:
Two horses cast shadows,
Stick Man, of course.


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Lift North, 1986.

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Montpelier, empty,
That wind-robbed place,
As if the cruel mistral
Had fully-erased,

With maddening blasts,
All warmth-known,
And me, broke, bagged,
Foreign cash gone.
.....


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Castaway

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

You are now storm-struck,
no 'Met Warning',
there, blow-stranded,
all alone, tide-washed,
marooned
.....


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Dad

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I have never enjoyed cold tea –
you know that slop-dreg last inch .../


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Charles V

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Answer me - Charles - take as long as you need -
do you know when you will accede? ../


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Hurting

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Our closest have lives,
To live and enjoy,
Delayed redundancy
In our sick bed-employ:

Carers, co-sufferers,
Career........


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Relegated

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Relegated, reduced,
to a half-size man;
me, wrenched-doubled,
over the pan..


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Downstairs Room

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I should get up
and find function,
but the town
hasn't moved
.....


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Megastore

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

That single, repetitive,
Plague-bell stops,
Dream-hole losses,
God to the shops:

Christians, Muslims,
The Jews, and all,
Claim fabulous bargains,
For any lost fool:

Places of worship,
Sampled anoints,
Pick up a deal,
Worth double points:

Fill up your GodCard,
With every prayer,
Heaven's Megastore
Awaits you there.


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A Path In Israel

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

It was a path
from another time,
Your close enquiry
of an ant-marched line.
Crossing the equally
engineered rails,
We both avoided
the steel-trip trail.

You, eldest boy,
chatting alongside,
On the rough-route,
where Ruti had cried:
Your uncle asleep,
in this blown-thin soil,
Alone in this god-land:
an empty black voile.

Unlocked the gate,
metallic complaints,
I showed you the place
where your uncle waits,
your talk is erased
by the hand-carved curves,
Our name cries out,
among foreign words.


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