Staggering

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

A three-pinted stagger home,
Drunk (slightly), diseased (mainly)...


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Breakfast of Champions

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I cannot explain this
shuffled-off impasse.
I fail to define it:
A sloth's-worth grind..


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The Seventh Lord Lucan

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Lord Lucan, legally, 'presumed dead',
Is what the bookies will have read:
Rip-up old long-suspended bets, 
Odds-off these shores, without regret
.....


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Can I speak?

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Can I speak, now, for England?
(With the mild-righteous-bigots).
I offer my shaking hand,
Will my words make you drop it?


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Another 49

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Forty-nine dead on the southern coast,
Washed up on the beach, at a high cost..


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The Haunted

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

We look back, short-distanced,
on our piled-brick place,

once-removed, down-sized,
us, former-residents..


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Roadies

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I sat, aged thirteen,
Between stages,
Shepperton Studios:
Burning my fingers..


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Landie

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Muddied, dog-run, leaking: Now sat engine-cold, diesel heavy-heart; our Landie, possibly, the greenest car. 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 PD, dementia, and the end of...


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Pub, 7pm

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

It is a low church,
without sober prayer,
rough years, sixty-plus,
blinded Sky-high stare..


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Everything is easy, there is no difficulty

By Mike Bell Poetry 2 comments

Called, I entered
'The Departure Lounge'
renamed, a rare-shared joke,
for that downstairs room;
here my father sobbed
with cancer's slow burn
.....


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