Uckfield Floods

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Uckfield is flooding,
a slow-risen tide,
not left on The Uck’s
surge-measure pipe.

Currents flood twittens,
pavements, and paths,
fouling by dog ‘Messis’,
but no dog-drop red card.

Stomach-churned-twirls,
often bluebottle-fed,
To be foot-stepped, trod-in,
and then deep-carpeted:

Land mines to be cleared,
by the rain, or unpaid,
but ’til the flood’s gone,
we’ll continue to wade.

Mike Bell Poetry

Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a time, and then take a nap. By then he should be about 85 years old and have out-gunned PD, dementia, and the end of days. Possibly. Before the floods and fires. Mike Bell is found working for money as a freelance set designer.

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