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Paul Bell Poem
The street seemed so much smaller now
The grime and the smell were still the same though
Engrained like the people who lived there
It was the only thing that never left him
She stayed at twenty-three
One tough girl
Christ, he still remembers the day she knocked him out
Slightly concussed, he proposed to her
Not bad for a twelve-year-old
She couldn’t stop laughing
She wasn’t marrying no wimp that day
In fact, her daily ritual was knocking him down
Mum, is love painful
If it’s true love, it can be
It was, his head was testament to that
He just kept going back for more
To give her, her due, she was happy to give it to him
One day he told her straight. I don’t care how many times you knock me down. I’m going to be your boyfriend. He waited for the punch
She kissed him
He fell down again
She starting laughing
It felt like the greatest feeling ever
They became inseparable after that
Young love had conquered
One day she told him she was going away
I’m going with you
It’s not that kind of going away
Is there another kind
It’s the dying kind of going away
Yes, but you won't die for a long time
A year the doctors said
That didn’t make sense to him
We’ll just have to make the most of it, she said
Make the most of it
The most precious year of his young life
She died the way she lived.
Demanding he did the best he could with his life
There were times when he really struggled
Times he thought of joining her
The pain in his head always changed that
Even in death, she got to him
The years passed by
He made good
She would be proud of him
The street seemed so much smaller now
The grime and the smell were still the same though
Engrained like the people who lived there
It was good to be home...
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2023
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Paul Bell Poem
It’s with heavy heart I pen this verse
Watching your father pass by in the hearse
Takes me back to that night in the shed
When you said, this is like fireworks
It was, I dropped the cigarette on the petrol can
Still, as I remarked, not many sheds get a technicolour funeral
He was beyond reason
Not helped when rumours of por*o magazines started circulating
He told me straight, marry my daughter and I’ll kill myself
So we married in haste
But he didn’t keep his promise
What a waste
Still, when that great oak fell on top of his new shed
I had a grin from ear to ear
It was like the chainsaw massacre, but more fun
It was about that time you found god
I found your sister
You forgave me, I was weak
She was pregnant, sixteen weeks
Your dad went mad, he said I was the devil incarnate
Then he dropped dead
They looked at me in horror, in dread
Like it was something I said
Do something they cried
I didn’t know any songs, so I punched him between the eyes
He was definitely dead
I carried the coffin
The least I could do
I shed a tear, maybe two
We decided to scatter his ashes over his pride and joy
But they couldn’t be found
The crematorium were in shock, people were running around
It was like he just disappeared
I was agog
Couldn’t see the mist for the smog
Later that day, just to console
I produced a big rocket
Really his soul
I set it off, and said goodbye
They had a little cry
It climbed high in the sky
They gave a sigh
Should it not explode
Well it is supposed to go with a bang
Just then it made its descent
It was like he was heaven sent
Plummeting to earth
Mad as hell
We all dived for cover
Just as well
She screamed, oh god, oh boy
No need to tell you where he landed
Okay then
His comfort and joy.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2024
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Paul Bell Poem
My Marie, wasted so much time watching
Sat behind your image, I always wondered
Type me another picture, so I can look inside your head
Reach the final thread
When all the words are said and done
And times we have no longer fun
Please remember how it all begun
Cause no one won, no one won
My Marie, did you really think I’d change
Become your love, rearrange my life to suit your soul
Could we really be such fools
Expect to change the rules forever
When all the words are said and done
And times we have no longer fun
Please remember how it all begun
Cause no one won, no one won
My Marie, another picture in another place
Dirty talk, dirty sleaze
Lousy love that didn’t please
High class b****h , f*****g tease
When all the words are said and done
And times we have no longer fun
Please remember how it all begun
Cause no one won, no one won
My Marie, dressed to thrill, stocking tops where guys would kill
Pink champagne upon your breasts
Trickling down your shaven nest
Sighs to screams, frenzied pace
Champagne and love, the sultry taste
When all the words are said and done
And times we have no longer fun
Please remember how it all begun
Cause no one won, no one won
My Marie, we fight goodbye
Mocking insults, tears to cry
Words like daggers deep inside
Daggers deep inside
Goodbye, Marie, our time has come
The pictures running dry
Sat behind your image, I always wondered why
One day I was feeling all alone
Felt so really down
Remembered a pair of lacy pants
And put them to my brow
Champagne and scent came flooding back, and time began to clear
For a fleeting moment I had you
And then you weren't there.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2024
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Paul Bell Poem
We said goodbye
You and I
Tossed a coin
Who would cry
You won
Time went by
You went on to marry Joe
I got blown up
From head to toe
Along came baby, Jill
Your pride and joy
Such a thrill
I started the long road back
With a dummy leg, I nicknamed Jack
It was hate at first sight
Throwing him down every night
Sadly, Joe passed away
Your life crashing down
That fateful day
Jack and I changed tact
We sort of made a little pact
I wouldn’t throw him down
If he walked straight on the ground
You came to terms with your loss
Went back to work
Still the boss
Now you and little Jill
Moving on, moving still
I had finally trained Jack to run
Not very far, granted
He still moaned at will
But I told him straight
Tomorrow the hill
The sun was shining
Good day to go out
Drive into the country
Out and about
Right Jack, today’s the day
Do not upset me in any way
Just try to keep straight
Is that okay
Mummy, look at all the sheep
A cow, goats
Mummy, horses too
What’s that, Mummy
Jack decided to leave him on the downside of the hill
Rejoining him at the bottom
Leg with no thrill
I swear to god I will shoot you dead
Looking up at an Angel and a little girl in dread
Been a long time, Tony
Still running I see
Hope when you said shoot
You weren’t meaning me
No I was talking to Jack my leg
He hasn’t quite mastered running yet
Reminds me of a girl I once knew
Oops, that girl would be you
So you called your leg after me
That’s real sweet
Maybe that’s why she keeps leaving you
Wouldn’t you agree
I think you could be right
Having had lots of time to reflect in the small hours of the night
So, who’s this lovely little girl
This is my daughter, Jill
I know what you’re thinking
This fairytale came true
They got back together
Like they’re supposed to do
Alas not
Well, not till Jack mastered getting down on one knee
I mean, how hard can it be.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2023
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Paul Bell Poem
They never solved the murder.
Though the crazy woman at number nine said it was the husband.
This was ruled out in the early stages of the investigation.
At some point, they did talk to the woman at number nine.
She said the cats had left for a spell, then they came back.
The detective ignored her and left, no report was needed.
The case went cold.
It was later on when rechecking statements that the address of number nine came up.
The detective was asked to explain.
He said the woman at number nine just kept going on about the cats. She was obviously loopy.
On re-interviewing her, the senior detective asked her to explain.
She said the cats had left because the deceased was pregnant, but they came back when she wasn’t pregnant.
So, what you’re saying is, she lost the baby.
No, she didn’t lose it, she had to get rid of it.
Why did she have to get rid of it?
Because he couldn’t have children.
Alarm bells went off. Christ, this was delicate. He couldn’t possibly go back to the station and put this forward as new information, they would give him to the boys in white coats. But something told him to go with it, he could put it down to a tip-off. This also meant two suspects, possibly three.
Getting the body exhumed would be the last resort.
Getting the abortion clinics to part with information would be tricky, but it was a murder investigation, after all.
He had a gut feeling about this woman. She was careful, had to be. He didn’t think she would use her own name, he also reckoned she would go out of state. This brought its own problems, but he had connections, and he would use them.
Her photo was shown, and in the third clinic recognised.
Things went fast after that. The boyfriend was found. He was married. It was a long term affair. He was ruled out.
The husband had a watertight alibi, but was brought in for questioning. They knew he hadn’t killed his wife, but that meant nothing. The senior detective just put a simple question to him. If your wife had told you about the baby, would you have brought it up as your own?
That was enough to break him. He confessed to having her killed, the killer has never been found.
Had she been killed two months later, he would have escaped the death penalty of lethal injection and been jailed for life. The death penalty was abolished that July.
He was the last to die in that state by lethal injection.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2023
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Paul Bell Poem
The sex was unexciting as it was unimportant
Like the silk red knickers
That didn’t really define her
Or the cross chained around her neck
That didn’t protect her
He sensed she was more broken than him
Strange how broken people come together
Awkward pieces never quite fitting
Just clinging on
He felt this would be his last time on earth
Time had picked him as it had picked the ones before
He was ready
She sensed he was different from the others
More dangerous, but not to her
The scars on the outside, only hidden by the scars within.
She also felt the death sign
But that was her calling
The chosen one
He watched her sleeping
Finding comfort in a strange way
Something caught his eye
The small mark on her skin
The sign of the sacred sisters
He felt humbled in her presence
It was time
Death was waiting
He walked to it gladly.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2023
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Paul Bell Poem
The rain washed the blood away
And for a time I became human again
Children with dead eyes
Play amongst corpses rotting in the morning sun
A father prays to some god
Hoping for a miracle
Abound by his faith
Certainly a deeper faith than mine
For the moment only the gun is god
In these quiet times
I think of people sitting at desks
Being productive
Dreaming dreams better than mine
Building a future
The survivor alarm kicks in
I've been here too long
The scene changes
The father has found his god
For a time he becomes a soldier
Two gods about to collide
One through total frustration
The other with the dimension of time
He once read a book
The romance of war
He always thought the title should have read
The two faces of war
The bullet killed him instantly
Tomorrow he would be another rotting corpse
No romance there
People at desks building futures
Children with dead eyes play in the morning sun.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2021
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Paul Bell Poem
Monday
It has come to my attention, that someone has been stealing from
the communal fridge. I notice that my own personal milk with my
name on the bottle is half empty, also three fingers of my KitKat
are missing. Please refrain, or action will be taken.
Tuesday
It has come to my attention, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see
my milk has been topped up, though, why two fingers of my
kitkat in a V sign just beggars belief. Just tasted my milk, you
dirty bastard. I will now be monitoring the fridge from my office.
You will be caught.
Wednesday
It has come to my attention, the camera monitoring the fridge
is now monitoring the ladies toilet. This is intolerable, you are
usurping my authority. Heads will roll. I will now be moving the
fridge into my office until further notice.
Thursday
It has come to my attention, my office has been penetrated,
the fridge is missing, and I find a ransom note on my desk.
I don’t know who you people think you're dealing with, but
let me leave you in no doubt, I will find out who you are, and
you will be dismissed.
Friday
It has come to my attention, a delivery of fifty fridges is
cluttering up the whole building, management is going
ballistic. I concede to your demands, please get rid of
them. Let us get back to you taking my milk and my biscuits,
my job, my life. Just leave me alone.
Thankyou.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2021
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Paul Bell Poem
The Trial.
Arthur, Sammy, Davis, Junior, Stevie Wonder, Bob, Mick, Sue, Carver. You are being charged with the partial demolition of a listed building. Endangering the life of one, Mavis Stepney. How do you plead.
Not guilty, your Honour.
I see you are defending yourself, is this wise, or is it the case no other Lawyer will touch you with a barge pole.
I just feel your Honour that I’m just better than most Lawyers.
Well Mr Carver, we better get started on your defence then.
My defence, your Honour is quite straight forward, it’s all down to the Crane driver who obviously wasn’t competent enough to operate a crane with a wrecking ball on it.
Mr Munro, prosecuting, I wish you luck.
Thank you, your Honour.
Well Mr Carver, we’ll never find that out because the Crane driver has mysteriously disappeared, though we do know the Crane was stolen.
And once again your Honour, technically nothing to do with me.
Let us see what is technically to do with you. The bottle of champagne that smashed into Miss Stepney’s head as the wrecking ball smashed into the building, would you agree that was down to you.
Once again your Honour, the champagne bottle had the Crane driver been proficient in operating said Crane would have been placed gently into the hand of Miss Stepney in the romantic gesture that my intention merited.
Where did you get the Crane, Mr Carver?
I do believe it was from a company called, Cranes R Us.
Is that like Toys R Us.
Not really sure of the relevance of that question or the flippancy at the way it’s directed at me.
You are full of bull Mr Carver, do you really believe the jury will believe your cock-and-bull story.
Yes, Mr Munro, I believe the jury will see me for the romantic I am and totally exonerate me.
So anyway, the unromantic jury didn’t believe a word of it, and he was jailed for eighteen months.
2
MI6 (British Intelligence.)
Mr Smiths office.
Enter the other Mr Smyth.
Carver’s been jailed for 18 months.
Blast, we need him for Thursday night, we better get down to the prison and discuss the compassionate position Carver is going to find himself in.
3
The introduction to Prison.
This will be your cell for the foreseeable, get used to it.
Hold on a minute, who’s that guy.
That guy, Carver, is your cellmate.
I don’t want a cellmate, I prefer to live alone.
I suggest you put that in writing to the Governor, he likes a laugh. Any other complaints.
The 54-inch TV, where is it.
What 54-inch TV.
The one that all prison cells have.
Think you’ve been reading the Reader's Digest, it’s all lies. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to finish my shift and go home.
The cellmate
I’m English.
So am I.
No, my name is English.
Oh right, I’m Carver. How do I go about getting something to eat, I’m famished.
You wait till breakfast.
I can’t wait that long, can I not ring for service.
Think you're mistaking this place for the Ritz.
Right, where’s the kitchen, I’ll go and get myself a sandwich.
Think you might find the doors are locked, they tend to do that in here, just in case we wander off.
Yeah, well I’m different, I’m a sort of trustee, and I’m allowed to wander about. So, if you give me directions, I’ll go and get myself something to eat.
Well, if you can get out of this cell, you’ll find the kitchen at the bottom of the stairs on the left.
Fantastic, do you want anything.
I would love a coffee and maybe a biscuit to wash it down with.
Great, I’ll be back in twenty.
English looked on in astonishment as the cell door opened and Carver left.
Ten minutes later the cell is opened by the guard followed by two MI6 officers.
The two MI6 officers look at the guard, who is looking at English. Has carver been taken somewhere else.
He’s away to the kitchen for a bite to eat.
Don’t be flippant, English, this isn’t the Ritz. Did someone take him to the kitchen.
He’s a Trustee, he took himself.
Have you ever known anyone to walk into a prison become a Trustee and then to have a bloody key to wander about with?
Well, no, but I’m not up-to-date with the new home office guidelines.
Suddenly, the cell door opens and Carver comes in with a tray of coffee and sandwiches. Well, hello, Mr Smith and Mr Smyth.
The guard just manages to get the words out. What the hell, what the hell is happening here, Carver.
I’ve noticed everyone in here repeats themselves, what is wrong with you people.
I will tell you what’s wrong. Just then he’s ushered out the cell by Mr Smith.
The other Mr Smyth looks at Carver. You just can’t help yourself can you, one hour you’ve been in here and all hell’s been let loose, when will you learn.
When I eat my supper and feel better, this has been quite a traumatic day for me, I’m just glad you’ve turned up to free me.
You aren’t leaving, Carver, well technically you’re not, but you will be leaving on Thursday on compassionate grounds.
Who’s died this time.
Does it matter. Just try to stay in your cell till Thursday, can you do that.
When I get out on Thursday, do I need to return.
Of course, you need to return you’re a criminal it’s not some sort of jolly you're on.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2023
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Paul Bell Poem
The reflection in your eyes
Hide the sad lines of beauty
Mirrored in your own little ocean
Touched a thousand secrets
Who sees behind the smile
Enigmatic soul gone before me
So calm, but never passive
Touched a thousand secrets
The reflection in your eyes
Drown the life before me
So clear, tranquil, almost pitying
Touched a thousand secrets
Goodbye my distant lady
The night has seen you gone
No glance to say, no feelings
Touched a thousand secrets
The reflection in your eyes
Crept inside my soul
Mysterious lady, thoughts so deep
Tried to touch your mind
The reflection in your eyes
Like the ocean taking me further away
Beautiful enigmatic lady
Touched a thousand secrets.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2023
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