Timings

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

You have chosen your strapped seat to sit at – as you put out to sea with bright paint and long blades – to be pulled around buoy set points – then to be steered without tipping under rare blade clashes and shouts but always matched to find a balance – It is only in...


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A Crew

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

There is a slight run of resonance with squared dips of catches – it quickens with timed recoveries along those rumbled turns of leather-collared connections – so that the forward lean-to-timings lever everything to leant finishes and the opening up of your lungs – and we haven’t even talked of power with the blade’s bowing...


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Sea Rowing

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

There – almost baiting us – ten thousand wind-ripped waves palpitated on the lake – but they are merely breeze-skipping ripples for us would-be sea fishers of much bigger catches – We are required to practice in such innocuous conditions – this millpond darkened stew – before that unknown swell beyond our harbour wall –...


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The First Racing Turn

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

We can start with the basics -
the lifting and full leans on oars -
but before long we will have to dig
and pull at less certain surfaces .../


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The Pilot

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Stunned by an off-shore tip -
but that was part of the deal
of any such shore-to-ship pull
under the pilot's minimal steer
of his salt-pressed gig crew .../


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Harbourside

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I tripped on a snake
coiled into the form
of fixed turns .../


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Feathering

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

It's not the same pull or heave
as it was in my rowed youth .../


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