3 Poems by David Bell
Clay Mould Man
Eye
Wander the side of Los to the blue and smooth below the bank
For that loyalty and allegiance of heirs. Watch-
Eye, no more than hen or woodcock
At the foot of Father, state Father. Mould
Light through pupils, lens and retina
Impossibly untouched, unsullied by the hand
Hand
Equal to the weight of a man, cut and in semblance create
Of dust and ground, fingers for grasping and toes
For balance. The body of an absent
Shepherd, embed the eye herein.
Now watch as the human shadow speaks
With no tongue, from a womb within a womb
Parchment
“My voice from your opened vein, architect of mine
The hard way is calling, I hear conflict is a forge
And that Bob Marley tattoo on the back of your head
Must stand out as you march” whispered
Error of spelling and design, disintegrating
Into the creature’s mouth. Cover with cut cloth this
Uncanny thing
Grey Lady
I write this
From the bottom of a bathroom door
Floor spitted with missed
I saw her at noon
Late, with an air of brown
Caffeinated. Leaving behind
This poor mix for greener pastures
Which
Stops me dead
Silently unnoticing infinitum stretches
In candid caught candid
Your fingers on your phone
The Things You See In Old Stables
See
Out of the corner of the eye, on Old
Eltringham Court
Broken floor board pavements
Spotless barn door black
That modern wood rot
Suburbia,
Host only to spectral woodlice
In the middle of a road
Recently laid
David Bell is a creative writing MA student at Newcastle University, with a focus on poetry and script writing. He is currently working on a collection set in his home town of Prudhoe called 'Prudhoe Banter'. The poems within the collection explore the interaction between the geographical history, personal history and invented history. To read more of their work, click here.