Little Georgian Antiques

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Arrows still fly at Battle - spiritual ones ..
against Anglo-Saxon self-satisfaction* -
as if The Bengal Colonel had then leapt
from the stretched canvas into Ninfield -
and prowled around the village green .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

De La Warr

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I am here - thick-and-mixed
among middle class minions
who eye up the croissants
in the De La Warr Pavilion .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

Conquest Hospital

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Robert Richard Rollins -
I was born nineteen thirty-four -
struggled with the name -
El-dwabe .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

He Really Did

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

He really did not know
for how much longer
he could hold on to her
and still be dishonest .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

The Commuters

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Our Ikea-padded cells
should guard us from self-harm -
but instead they fuck with us
in cubes of coupled calm .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

These Lessons

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

She is giving me lessons
in love without hate -
but my teacher is failing me
for my schoolboy mistakes .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

Four by Four

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I sought the purport
of a four-letter word
after coming across it
in a loan long-expired .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

#NewYear

By Mike Bell Poetry 1 comment

What dya expect
from drunken kisses .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

The Christmas Call

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

It is over two decades since we last spoke -
you offered no responses - not when I 'phoned
or when I cheerily arrived at the family home .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

Turn

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

She turns to let the bird go – as if it would leave such half-robed beauty – as if it would be robbed of a close indulgence like us cocksure things and I can pick up the scent from her underarm sweat as she rotates – so as to let the creature lift from her...


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register