Fluxus

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

My heated tears contain stomach acid – piteous shit – feeling sorry for myself having thrown my empty gut’s content into the piss-plated Made in Italy bowl They will not scar my face – we only fear such long-term effects on our throats – heightened instances of – that is enough for now – Sit...


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First Notes

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

There is a cool stubbornness about you – it is quite fanciable Life is not getting in your way or going to bring you down No house of cards – no others’ disturbances will take you There is a surety in your eyes You hest me – you have my revere Mike Bell Poetry Mike...


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Last Dance

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

You were a low-slung
holdall of hot tears
in my useless arms

like those strained bags
of fairground goldfish -
ones eventually flushed .../


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Seven Overs

By Mike Bell Poetry 1 comment

For Tony Rees Scuttled and wind-licked we hunkered with beers under the Shane Warne Stand as scurried rainclouds toyed with our long-hatched scheme for a day of World Cup Cricket under an English summer – but no plan was framed for stacks of latin-named dark formations And a record was set at that game –...


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Country Pub

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Before this evening’s swell of punters fill empty wooden tables we solemn few near-sober slow pint daytime drinkers take our lost afternoon over equal measures of flat beer and crisps as that occasional hour hand slogs around to grind out time in this low muttering pub – until intuition says Go now – before those...


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Super Veterans

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

This lake’s shore is disturbed by cutters and mowers at two-stroke Sunday work of keeping back too much growth – still their gig crew rolls through turns of hard rudder and clean recoveries – breaking out a wake and six puddles Four – together – power – six – power through cries their cox above...


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Outside Argos – Lewes on a Sunday

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Dad balanced a slab of a cardboard box on his head Like they do in Africa his kid said after being told not to bounce the ball at which point their shine of buying was in a shaded place And both dropped into a self-aware two step home Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to...


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Above Glynde Reach

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I picked a bent path of grass treads between time’s tipped-hat stones in St. Andrew’s – Beddingham’s dry-high whispering graveyard It hasn’t absorbed any rising tidal surge or sudden winter wash – of God’s clearing-out-no-chance-flood since He-knows-when-of-last Once vagrants were listed here in this river-fashioned parish in a sub-Lewes rolled distance – 68 villains, 6...


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War Poets

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Paul Verlaine’s Chanson d’automne was coded – still popular poetry – to give notice – his long sobs of French-sung violins declared an Allied invasion to those listening Whilst she never understood speeches of love – and our common mistakes – I would rarely read to her – she rarely read my mutterings – my...


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Gaddy

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Constance Mary Sad – Baker – Clark – also known as Gaddy – pranced through Europe’s dared-to decadence finding her feet in those wide-flared seventies in every kind of ballroom competition Come dance with me! Len called – a nine scored five times by a sweet Devon girl who once graced low tides on Braunton...


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