Latitude

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Our eucalyptus tree is now my distant Australia – Our olive tree is now my recent Israel and in-between – in our English garden of other imports – our thirsty plants look more suited to wetter climates – they limp without the pull and whip of overnight water – English summers play redefined dates of...


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At Our Gate

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Old lust - our ragged plot
of strangling weeds -
of poisonous shrubs
turn to interleave .../


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The Impatient Plant

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

The Himalayan Balsam's scent
clogs - a laundry swill of smells -

lingering - invasive - out-of-place -
underlining the call to action .../


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Gardener

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

This subdued back garden resists the thrust of growth now the month has an ‘r’, its slow dew will not shift until that letter is removed by the turn of the earth: my grandfather is no longer there with his shined boot pressed upon the shoulder of his spade, in all weathers, turning the earth....


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The Patio

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

The level is still wrong
because the land slopes,
and I used my tired eyes,
not the bubble's advice...


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