Parky Perks

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

​I am now allowed to:
Leave dinner parties early,
Sleep mid-afternoon,
Stop mid-morning..


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Upstairs Room, Prince Albert.

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Dead-weight, rouche mourning drapes,
long-fitted, allying the room's beams,
accentuated by the dusty refraction
on the glitter ball, still, yet working:
Ghost flecks off the mirrored-planet
.....


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The Future, A Sick Note

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Education privatised,
For the good of the rich,
A decade on, no state'll exist..


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From The Stadium

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Ahead of me one empty sat-down seat,
Centre, back, in this well-attended free bus,
Cushion dipped by time, worn by re-visits,
And other weightier-trips across Brighton;
First leg of our return home from the stadium.
We left five minutes early, off wind-groomed pitch,
To get my old boys' seat, back to the racecourse's blow
.....


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Marrakech

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Marrakech welcomed us,
a warm hold,
lifting flight-numbed senses.
Bella and I ventured, briefly,
her unexpected beauty strummed
local boys' heart strings..


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Diversion Ends

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

‘Diversion ends’,
States the sand-bagged sign,
But Uckfield traders
Are now resigned
.....


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Don’t Dementia This

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

We should all look forward
to dementia,
there’s nowt else certain,
that’s for sure..


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Kerbs: my enthusiasm

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I am having a new relationship
with kerbs.
Dropped kerbs tempt me towards
their supplicant slopes..


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Turning On Old Ladies

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Two old ladies (loud) in the reading room, Giggled, un-muffled, in the cold-bulb gloom. Compared their tablets, one from the son, One from her husband, “But can’t turn him on!” A nearby woman huffed, and shut her book, She muttered, stood up, and gave them a look. So, ‘The Web For Beginners Course’ began, With...


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Trust No One

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Get to the dentist,
you have nothing to lose,
just a few teeth,
and the ability to chew.

The lady in the mask,
poking your molars,
has studied dentistry,
for millions of hours.

Trust her, listen,
she says quite loudly:
'You're eating less sweets',
and your Mum beams proudly..

Ugh..

..Mum exposes her dentures,
teeth she keeps in a glass,
next to the bed,
along with other spare parts:

(You can trust your parents
to let you down,
their teeth are terrible,
some are grey-brown.)

Mum smiles wide,
the dentist spots the mush,
breakfast leftovers,
which your Mum failed to brush.


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