Kodachrome
written by: Mike Bell
@MikeBellWrites
There on the dresser
the family pictures,
sons stacked and set,
mother’s glossy fixtures,
my brothers captured,
in Kodak-rolled histories,
but mine’s found missing,
held there, not one of me:
Roared on the orbital,
gone from the old house,
a portrait held up,
my stiff-lip countenance,
framed in these rough palms,
my face here removed,
the accidental son
is now finally proved.
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.
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.
Latest posts by Mike Bell (see all)
- The Mass Of Men - October 14, 2017
- Belief - August 30, 2017
- Spotlight On Writers – Mike Bell - August 19, 2017
