The Path

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Outside the gates we turned left, my first time exeunt in that direction, every other time it was ‘Exit Right’. My stick ticked dust as the dog chased her foreign prey of too-quick lizards, one easily found, but dead, tyre-pressed. Your perimeter wall merged into the next, running the width of both properties, two modern...


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Pairs

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

If they knew the truth what would it do? He’d look a fool, and she’d look cruel: but for now, she keeps the Jacks, there are no Jokers left in the pack. Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a time, and then take a nap....


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The Common Book

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

These short-swiped days of instant history, of unsavoury times, of such effrontery; a meme we fed before the hour had passed, then called upon as eye witnesses: ‘How could you renounce, so easily betray?’ ‘How many times did you turn your gaze?’ Under cross-examination you may fall apart, prepare your statement, commit it to heart. This way we now live, screening all calls, beholding...


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Grand Designs

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Here I sit, baked,
in a perihelion place,
and you back home,
under aphelion greys .../


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Cornish Patsy

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a time, and then take a nap. By then he should be about 85 years old and have out-gunned PD, dementia, and the end of days. Possibly. Before the floods and fires. Mike Bell is found working for money...


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The Planting

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Lancelot Capability Brown, sunburnt, drives his yellow digger into your grove and there, on the almost level ground, he finds another hole for another root ball, the third of his flatbed-dropped trees, which ends up towering alongside the horizontal swimming pool lines. The new cipressos are aligned by those two baseball-capped men, who guide the...


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Poisoning

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

alcohol


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May Day, Puglia

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

  Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a time, and then take a nap. By then he should be about 85 years old and have out-gunned PD, dementia, and the end of days. Possibly. Before the floods and fires. Mike Bell is found working for...


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Witnesses

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I look to them, graveyard-aligned in our sped view, forever left and right, on the journey back from Otsuni; anchored in the red earth, those groves, set free from the interrupt of stones by the cast of the rotivator’s throw. I count, without enough numbers, the great twisted variations of olea europaea, those fixed olive...


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The Monkey. Not the Organist

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Free me from the grind of ‘strong and stable leadership’, and from the organist’s ‘coalition of chaos’; loosen these ties of spin-doctored lines, and let the monkeys dance to an original lie. Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a time, and then take a nap....


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