Elliott Bell

writer, poet, artist, expat

Category: Poetry

Missing Mishka

My darling little kitty-cat,

I know I said, “Stop doing that!

Don’t scratch the rug, or sit up there,

You mustn’t gnaw, or shred, or tear.”

But now that I am far away

Without you to gently scold,

I find I’m longing for the day

Where I’ve my naughty cat to hold.



Winter’s passed and gone are all

The muffled dreary days.

Spring’s arrived as the sky cries

‘Twixt bursts of sunny rays.

And though April’s moving I can’t wait,

For May to slip past soon.

I lie in wait for my Summer dream

To curl up in the warmth of June.

To Do List

What To Do?

I’ve not a clue.

I’m going through

This list that grows,

Each item making weight,

And waits, and wriggles past,

And I scramble to unlock gates

And shoo them through just as fast

As I can think of them, the never ending

Never stopping, growing tasks, that follow

Until I’m so behind and under them the force

Of their insistent cries drowns out all other noise

‘Til in a fury I grab my sword, and scream over them!

I grab one nearest and cut it down to non-existence

And I banish each to the void of finished tasks

As they run and shriek and flee and plead

I am a callous terror of burning need

To finish this terrible, rotten list

Of things that must be done,

Done one by one by one,

‘Til my To Do grows

To less than none

And I wonder

What to do?

I’ve not a clue…


Today I told a lovely fib,
As I cracked my white-lie smile
Inside I cracked another rib
As payment for my guile.

I gave no sign
Of my deceit designed,
Save a swallowed sigh –
The price of lies.


I wish
I wish
Were there ever two words
As hopeless as this?

I wish
I wish
Were there ever two words
As hopeful as this?


Wind snaps my strings and off I go!

Pulled by gusts above, below –
To be a kite is a fine, fun thing,
But also rather frightening,
As all that ties me to the ground
Is a lonely string by which I’m bound.
You stroll up to it so casually
I flinch awaiting casualty,
No longer able to tell apart
Fear from hope inside my heart.


I didn’t know it was dark in here
‘Til you came in with light.
I thought that I could see just fine
With my gloom-adjusted sight.

But ever since you wandered in
Lantern in hand aglow,
I see the filth I’ve been living in
When before I did not know.

I hang my head, overwhelmed
By the mess I have to clean.
Wishing it were dark again,
It shames me to be seen.

You stand tall above me
Pristine lantern swaying
I fear this dank, dark dirt of mine
Will stain you just by staying.


The sun was warm upon my face
I closed my eyes and felt it’s grace
Warming me from inside out,
I lost myself, forgot my doubts
And let myself love the sun,
For September, we were one.

But now October is creeping in
And the air’s begun to chill,
The falling leaves reminding me
That there is winter still.

So I will guard inside of me
This ember not yet done,
Lit soft and unexpectedly
By the warm September sun.


Sometime ago I fell apart
In a bout of stormy weather.
I had to tie myself in knots
Just to keep together.

Rain-soaked knots resist my attempts
To pull them loose and free.
But I ignore their frayed contempt
Determined to see them be.

For I have a new form in mind,
Something smooth and clean.
A pattern for these threads of mine,
I pick at them and dream.

As A Child

I threw pennies on the tracks
Waiting for a train,
They fell into the gaps
And there they still remain.