Mike Mitchell

Biography

Having recently retired from his work as a sustainability expert in the seafood industry, Mike Mitchell now spends his leisure time writing poetry and short stories. In 2014, Mike published 'Hope Street,' a novel set in 1964 in the fishing port of Grimsby, but he didn't publish his first book of poetry, 'Snapshot' until 2024. Hailing from the north of England, he recently relocated to leafy Surrey to be closer to his family. Mike is a founder member of the Hip-Op Collective.

Samples

ROSEDALE (IN MY JACKET) I raise the camera to my eye, And swivel the lens barrel, Until the split prism slides together, And brings your face into perfect focus, The shutter mechanism whirs and clunks With satisfying precision, And your beauty is captured forever, In a flicker of sunlight onto silver salts. When you see the photograph, You decide that your eyes look tired, But I see wistful, With just the merest hint of whimsy, Your dark hair, cut short, is swept back, And you are wrapped into the folds Of my old suede jacket, Against the first chill of Yorkshire evening. And now, so many years later, I feel the shiver of this same instant, Distilled, in a shutter's click, Your languid eyes gazing through decades, Have surprised me once again, Looked inside me once again, And sent me free-falling into memory, A vision of youth, we never even knew we had. BEAGLE BELLY You are warm and surprisingly heavy, As you lean your little body against me, Your breaths coming faster than mine, Eyes rolling upward, Brown pools of pure devotion, Waiting for a command. I am four years old, And you are nearly one, Which means that you are already Older than me in your years, And feel an obligation to protect me, I discern concern in your gaze. We crawl together onto the grass, I go four-legged like you, And chase you in circles, You bounce and yap with delight, Until I collapse out of giddiness, And you creep up quietly beside me. On the sparse grass, Amongst the daisies and dandelions, We lay for a while on our backs, The sun's warmth on our faces, Your belly like silk beneath my fingers, One hind leg twitching as I tickle. KESTREL A familiar trail, Rising steeply through dense woodland, I choose my steps carefully, Over treacherous tree roots, Past great lichen covered monoliths, Through scrubs of bracken and bramble, Climbing steadily out of the dale, Beyond the cover of trees, To be revealed at last in the vast bowl of sky, An immense panorama, Defined by the serpentine Nidd, Flowing from distant mauve hills, To the petrol blue haze of faraway towns. So high, This lofty vantage point, Where stone cliffs tower vertically Above broccoli floret treetops, Feeling dizzy, I push myself even closer to the edge, Stomach lurching for fear of falling, Whilst red kites and crows soar below me, A bird’s eye view of birds, I smile, and narrow my eyes Against a raw north-easterly, Which suddenly slaps my face, And riffles insistently against my clothes. I lean forward, Letting the wind take my weight, My life in its hands, This irresistible, excoriating force, Shaving and shaping these rocks, And pinning me now, With arms outstretched, Against an uncertain sky, Held only by air and hope, For precious seconds, Before I step back from the brink, Heart pounding, With the exhilaration of just being alive.

Publications

Hope Street (a novel, 2014) Orphans (with Chris Harley, 2024) Snapshot (2024)

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.