The Seamstress

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

It is traditional
at this time
of year
to bring down -
from the loft -
the bonfire box .../


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Bottle

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Here clear water springs
halfway up the hill -
forming a slow stream .../


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Beer in Lewes

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

The Gardener's Arms
smells of bonfire
of Cliffe boys and beer ...


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After Needlewriters

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I turned my back on the bleached slice of moon, that ancient stalker, over bright, (still impossible for smart-phone or┬átrite word capture). Lewes fidgeted, early to bed, ill-lit by the the old devil overhead, cut by earth’s shadow, incapable of glazing cobblestones There was that end-of-wordliness on our walk down Cliffe High Street, the ghosts...


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Rise

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

She is slow – the River Ouse – running muddied below Lewes – there a capricious millpond – but when she swells under storms – off streams Bevern and Northend and the quick River Uck – she reverts to ancient freshet – swift to rise to redress the forgotten flood meadows now supplanted by tarmac...


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Warehouse Lad

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

This is a return to hell, sitting in a warehouse of soft-play constructions, and other people’s kids, re-fueled by sweet drinks, and me, here, trapped, in seating which complained under my current weight, sofas impossible for a man to rise from with any style. Another dad, rather anxious, up among the ricochet of kids, in...


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Bonfire 2016, Lewes

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Here, trapped again,
clipped at The Swan,
with 'Liquidators' track,
a requested song
.....


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The Loos are Lost – Part II

By Mike Bell Poetry 1 comment

If this were Lewes
they'd start a campaign,
to retain the town's loos
under their 'rights to complain'
.....


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Thick Ice

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

In that Victorian pleasure garden
the Pells recreation ground
a walled pool and a play space
in commemoration of a Jubilee
.....


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