mike bell poems


I’ll pass my ageing neighbours
contained by solidified returns
off pensions & ISAs [all edging
away from brisk punts on stock
market wagers or gold’s allure]

Another day without doors

Another day without doors
[or chats-over-pints] – wait!

No last-minute unexpected
visitors – we creep from our
shelters of friendless rooms

It is raining

It is raining –
& my tipped
up skylights
lean mottled

On Hills

I’ll lie with a sun at my feet & a moon above my head [flit birds intone] – at blind north you are nine-ish km… Read More »On Hills