Piano Men

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

The unannounced pianist was a pummeler – less Jools Holland more jewel robber We politely relocated from The Griffin’s bar roar and found ourselves in a Rocketman party at another restaurant five minutes south where women wore glitter and sang loud homage to Elton John’s flickers of flares of greatness Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell...


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Stops

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Another thirty-ish minutes of life lost to indecisions By my lethargy By her rough mis-reckonings of tightly wound watches and bare clock faces You will never get it back Did I ever want it thrust upon me? Did I ask for that rum half an hour? You have no choice in time’s ways That furled-up...


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Rotarians

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I am not that someone who revels in hate Her look at the bar left me cold-eye weighed Poor Phil-the-farmer could not match my smile as Val took her drink leaving her stare to scythe Those Witches of Newick have stirred their dark brew – they sweat its rank scent – a mephitic perfume I...


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Bālal

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Feel a shrivelling suck below -
succumb to being blown-off by intimacies
on an ever-connected held screen
.../


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Measured Life

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Under a stiff corrugated sheet
was a lizard king - an envy green -
coloured in by me of your wild place .../


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Small Dole

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

There - Careful - it takes us up
with a broken concrete offering
to David's uneven heat-scratched lawn
of bastard grasses and inveterate weeds .../


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Breathing Out

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

This is an interval, ein Augenblick Philp K. Dick Before your lake – we stood naked and overconfident in such ease – having lost our cold distrusts in earlier bared dips and slow strokes Your surrounding land is disconnected through every minute by our staying afloat as we mark our desire path of currents with...


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Timings

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

You have chosen your strapped seat to sit at – as you put out to sea with bright paint and long blades – to be pulled around buoy set points – then to be steered without tipping under rare blade clashes and shouts but always matched to find a balance – It is only in...


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Closing Times

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Now – be forever consigned to coughed-up-banter nights at your threadbare old boys’ club – propped behind spewed pints of pump-drawn gut-brown beer Your bent still good arm lifts three quids worth of bowel-stripper Last orders and so a knocking back of pints from unequal paid down rounds And then that hundred-yard stagger off to...


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Such Dug Up Stuff

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I could bite on Mr Heaney’s lust-sight of her of lost flesh of navvy-dug amber nipples under hard-weighed stones over her cracked oak-bones which are not my spoken words Language is not my tight weave of Sussex-ness no fluttergrub’s spade to turn my empty laine of chalkland His words are kissed intimacies in his Castledawson...


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