An Exhibition in London

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

‘I paused feeling exhausted and leaned on the fence… My friends walked on and I stood there trembling with anxiety’. Edvard Munch There is a new exhibition We should go but Edvard’s far away church and distorted pier will be unreachable in my time of heightened anxiety She had me put my own hands to...


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Inconveniences

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

And she complained loudly to herself that this wasn’t what I wanted This marriage of inconvenience since his diagnosis and reduced income deflecting focus from her inherited sense of insecurity One passed down from one who got around too – as noted by relatives looking inwards at her admitted acts to keep me sane –...


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The Scent of People

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Larner feared removal of the scent of people in crowded wiki articles Dumb grazing animals hardly move from hoof to hoof with their heads down At this bar three men sit before chemical beer misdirected and under-lit Tommy Robinson spits as poor aims are raised by squaddies at politicians and three men take turns to...


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Of the Future

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

They took a hammer to Marx It’s just another monument nothing to get excited about unlike that time Churchill’s striding high cast of bronze was fitted a turf wig which sullied a great Englishman who meant so very much to those of lost empires Do not mention his passing resemblance to Mussolini Two men of...


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Thrown

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Dare yourself to approach the Whispering Gallery’stoo-low balustrade and look down Here his wordshave been heardby othersIn my gut Dad’srum gift of vertigoturns It was first witnessedby us all as we stoodbefore his loosened gripup Leith Hill Tower Now this cathedral’swall of death domekisses my earwith a cold commandto drop Tip yourself over to feelthat...


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No Rest

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Do not tarry for too many minutes below Chanctonbury’s decimated circle of silvered-skin beech trees They were planted without regard for any long-term fixing agreement set fast to grow by a man’s measures of water on their fragile root balls There on disturbed nights that dark copse is circled by foul-mouthed flying guides Above you...


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Paperboy 1st April 1977

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Here in this alarm-met half-lit hour things still bide from other April Fools’ days Do not forget failing spaghetti trees on foolish reportage loops Again those soft nudges on slow senses of soote aromas off flowering bulbs there drilled – then paraded by retirees My sucking lungs hauled their scents and cool air’s apparent emptiness...


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Pound Store

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

My authorised version of the holy book declares that avarice will kill us all off which we declaim aloud being self-anointed by those inner whispers of our godhead voices Our gor-bellied lives of fulfilment are fed by our sating purchases drawn down from less Our bounties are mounted under rented roofs which we brace with...


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Warming

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Each bared upper branch is sunset-torched oxidised reddened by that last touch of low light off this third month’s fooling dusk A slumped red hour ending a widely-held disbelief of an unexpectedly warm day in March once marked by late snow but not by my fifth decade’s birth date now re-set by summer’s early incremates...


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TV

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

As long as we can afford a fineless subscription to Netflix we can be assured that our emaciated high definition lives are not falling apart as much as those in Series One Two and then tired sequels which follow on and on This life is but a trailer of endless streams in which we crumple...


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