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Bonfire One, 2015-1016

written by: Mike Bell

@MikeBellWrites

 

I am wobbly    walking home    some late o’clock
a trespassed short-cut over dampened grass

through this estate of town-planned care
No roads    paths only to lamp-lit porches

as cars sit    misted, braked on verges
The street light’s spill    a dry amber pool

me    sense-struck by the waft of cuttings
I am re-routed    indirect    by a solitary tree

it’s stillness shocked    split    by a pigeon’s clap
disturbed by my standing    or my breathing?

The momentary effect    combined    then leading
to my old flight to Israel    picked fruits    sun-browned

lawn-fronted homes    of sprinkler’s ticker-sound
Same lives parked    people air-conditioned

sat lamp-lit    the sole indication
of life struck    by us    flighted    but never leaving.

Mike Bell

Mike Bell

I needed a ritual to my writing, these poems are the result. My inspiration comes from the daily events, connections, interactions, and small things, which all seem to demand bigger attention from me. These poems form a narrative to my life, politically and emotionally, which I hope find engagement with other individuals whom are also just trying to get by, with, or without any diagnosis:

It is not what I am paid to do
It requires a daily commitment
I cannot complete a crossword, but I will attempt to complete verse complexities
My children will need something to fill the vacuum we all create
These words help me to cry out, cry, and work out why
If I make someone respond, then I will have lived a life worthy of a life.
Mike Bell

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