Smoke Over Paris

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Their Lady of Paris burnt in one online afternoon Her re-imagined spire tipped to robes of smoke like a bloodied lance in surrender – once more – to politics and holy battles in a kindless fog of war Her heated metals ran as dark beaded sweats from her swealing heights to leave cooled scabs of...


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

A Pathogen at Work

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

This year’s olive crop is failing across Apulia as older-than-Christ groves are uprooted to break the spread of the end of the world for sun-dried farmers who bear the dark look of bereaved parents at their child’s funeral – as their questions to God are waved away at mass – Their pontiff no longer visits...


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

Shrove Tuesday

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Shriven into a repentant’s place – readied for a cross of palm ash – a marking – tomorrow – of believers – Yesterday was our early Mardi Gras of confessions – But we do not follow those fading rules of others’ liturgies – We cannot name their Shriving Bell as they stick it loudly to...


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

The Ascension – St.Martin in the Bull Ring

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Before that art-by-light – a conceit of Burne-Jones which is framed within lead – before the builders’ thrums from the other side of that tall story of saints – commissioned under strict instruction that it should bear no oxen – it was possible to feel the touch of his brushwork – of his mixing of...


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

And Disorderly

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

He visits lost priests to mumble-in-vain for what? His loose-lip prayers weave over tremble-woven fingers – This is the church – this is the steeple – look inside and see the people – God’s gatekeepers cannot force the bolts – not slammed gavel-struck ones – so he carries his sentence out in public spaces as...


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

The Perpetual Curate

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Here lies the poor
perpetual curate -
he lived a low life
on the stipend they paid .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

The Corpse Gate

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I called it a tithe gate -
but it is a lychgate -
I confused it with barns -
my first mistake .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

Turns

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I returned the ripped heart
of Saint Laurence O'Toole -
canonised post-mortem
for acts whilst entombed .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

יין אדום

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I don't believe in God
but I think she hears my prayers .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register

The Flood

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

There's a shifted density in the landscape
following your biblical month of rain -
It has been days and disturbed nights -
a battening of doors and shutting-ins .../


This poetry is for Donate a Coffee & Access All Poetry donators only.

Log In Register
  • 1
  • 2