Dad’s Cooking

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I love you – hope meeting going well x A text from his phone, pecked, auto-spelt. Beyond the window, hinges bared to the heat, he heard his boys’ repeat beseech: Another game on the moss-marched lawn, another day gone, a fatherhood mourned. He fumbled with dinner, poured from a can, which wrestled and spat in the unstirred...


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This Sunday

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Call out for the dead,
mark the London doors,
a plague on our house,
which the politic adore..


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Terroir

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

[This poem was deleted
on my handheld device,
there is no 'Undo'
much like my life.]


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Kabul, 90

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

This week in Kabul the angel of death rolled through the city to cause distress, to dig a space blown by one man’s fuse, on bloodied streets, to pay God his dues: This could be you, in country or town, this could be us laid flat by God’s bomb. But also consider why we are...


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0.3c 2100

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

It’s the laziest retreat in US history, that of the bought into a sold misery, to remove from accord with everything to lose, an old battle plan of an oiled-up whore: Sat at his desk, fingering fat contracts, letting frackers suck dry our one planet, because the POTUS doesn’t give a jack, he’ll f*ck us...


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My Haunting

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

On that sprung branch, she was lifted to my height an easier examination, I greeted my ghost, I then figured her shape with my touch, formed, real, she offered me a scent her sex, her appeal: but my old man attentions could scare her off – my lightest of hauntings – I must stay light...


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Local Racists

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Just now in my pub
there was racist talk,
loud howl of 'Nigger'
in context of what?

Not for the first time,
and not for the last,
this country is shite,
it enjoys hatred.


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Trumpf Coverage

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Covfefe gets coverage
and Trumpf is berated,
tweeted from his iPhone
which had been confiscated
..


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The Witness

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

They are overshadowed by that evergreen giant,
the one thousand year witness to ceremonies,
to burials, and namings..


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Englishmess

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Reduce the Brits, take away their tea,
Jaguar, Landrover, and Wedgwood pottery,
all now sold, the last of British treasures,
what is left 'Great' to make Britain special?
.../


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