Dead Air into Warm Harp

Taith Araf

Cais Archif Oriel

Steve Coel

Dead Air into Warm Harp.

Steve Coel

Since I bust my legs down The Works I's had

to spend all my mornings blowing dead air

into warm harp by the old library.

Bust my heart too, truth be known.

Lost everything now I has.

Still; once I's got enough coin I has a mild

and Clark's pie down The Vulcan.

And; often or not, I ends up chatting to the old girls, 

warming themselves up, before they goes and shelters 

under the bridge down by The Glastonbury.

Clink Hotel across the road gets noisy in the afternoon

so I wanders back into town for a bit of a stretch

and goes cadge a cup of tea from Astey's before heading

back down Bute to the Sally for warm meal and early bunk.

Doesn't have time to feel sad really. Not me.

Trick, I finds, is to forget past and just stick 

to what I knows.

Needs change of shoes though mind.

I'll find some in box by door in the morning.

[ Draft 3 ]

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

In the Blood

Anwastad Strydoedd

Cais Archif Oriel

Steve Coel

In the Blood 

Steve Coel

You's probably seen my picture in the papers.
Looks bit different now I does.
Big fella then like.
Once done lot of adverts for the tele.

Today things changed.
Can't stick jobs too long.
Nerves shot see.
All started when I was just a kid.

See Dad managed to talk his way
onto shift at Ellington.
So me and Dad and his mates got to spend some time
underground, like they'd been doing in the valleys
since they all left school.
Laugh it was, cos we's all on holiday
with the club at the time.
Mum was furious.

As it goes years just shot by.
And I wasn't laughing my last time down the pit.
Cos after 15 hours digging only came back up
with me best mates arms.
Didn't want my picture in the papers then.
Trust me.

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Born in the Workhouse - Steve Coel

arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Born in the Workhouse - Steve Coel

arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Down the Front

arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

down the front

Steve Coel

With stick on smiles

all owl eye brown,

girls look down

on avenues of car 

metal gutter full

with wish and dream.

Meantime, ripped boyfriends

in hastily bought clothes,

shadow money hustled

from grey figures

in badly lit parks.

This is their place,

a space ruptured 
of romance empty 
of mirth, hope 
and future.

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

promise is a promise

promise is a promise

Steve Coel

1
today
doorway
long corridor.
2
place used to be arcade.
not now.
shop's long gone
roofs caved in see,
and steel mesh windows
all been ripped out
by scrappies.
walls still decorated
each week though,
courtesy of local youth.
no charge.
3
nice touch that.
4
so you could say
is quiet round this way
now there's nothing
left to nick.
5
council keeps saying
places like this
is going to be developed.
we'll see.
6
meantime,
is where i comes
to spend my days.
finish jobs i's
been doing
during the night.
7
i'll have finished
in about six months
anyways.
8
do what the fucks
they like then.
all of them.
9
and if they ever
ever finds 
what i's been hiding
round here,
won't be any
comeback.
10
promise is a promise.

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Frayed Trousers

Frayed Trousers

Steve Coel

I guess it was always going to be 
the cheap brass rings on his fingers.
Not his dirty brown car coat or
that appalling smile of his,
just before he'd lose it.
Neither was it his cheap shoes, 
shoes he frankly liked a lot,
or indeed, his often too long 
frayed trousers.
These just seemed to go unnoticed
apparently.
Strange that.
No, it was the cheap brass rings
on his fingers that gave him away.

So, scam is what he would call it.
Is all.
People watches too much TV see.
All it ever was is few backhanders,
couple of brief, violent meetings 
and the usual in sealed envelopes.
Didn't hurt anyone, well,
least anyone you cares about.
Well, did he?

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Rains on me

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Junkyard shopping.
Dockyard visits.
Goodbyes to departing lovers.
Addiction of poverty.
Motorway shoes.

Rains on me.

Steve Coel

Innocence doesn't exist here,

not even for the young.

And only dead eyes 
stare from photographs

taken on cheap cameras 
by drunk uncles.

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Backspaces

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

 

Steve Coel

So many daytime hideaways

are in backspaces,

unseen from roads

and rear view mirrors.

Here, feral torn shoes 

will again be shredded 

by rubble and broken glass,

as shaking hands 

are being shaken

between tracksuits 

worn to hide 

shape, weapons and sex.

You will return again tomorrow

because here real trade 

is invisible,

unknown.

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Welcome Back [ Customs House ]

arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Welcome Back [ Customs House ]

Steve Coel

Standing
in the doorway to the Custom House
you;
silently mouth a plea for small change.
Not a regular spot.
Not today.
Your recent close shave, is disappearing
and your shoes, are too loose 
for comfort.
Waterside busy
you;
are not.
Slow...you are becoming invisible.

Eventually
you;
will disappear. Leaving
only a shadow
in each doorway of this street.

nodiadau.
The shadow of a man, each day up from the 
Sally down the docks.
Into town.
Stillness.
In the doors of the Western and Echo.

microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Born in the Workhouse - Steve Coel

arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Llandanwg, Gwynedd

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Ideas / Notes.
- crushed and crumpled, twisted by machine
  and dumped.

- too many drop dead eyes.

- cheap deals on cheap products.

microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Born in the Workhouse - Steve Coel

arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Llandanwg, Gwynedd

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Notes / Ideas.
- canvas shoes sweeping water into grateful holes.

- small dead brick buildings.

- cigarette packet trails among
  fallen leaves, kerbside plastic
  and empty cans.

microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Docks Museum [ Re-visited ]

arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

*

Docks Museum

[ Revisited ]

Steve Coel

Heddiw
dry docks glisten
with salty channel rain
as woollen old men
sit on one of their
favourite benches.
Each is smiling
as together they remember
the songs and laughter
of young, hard welders.

Heddiw
visitors will glance
at walls
of dismal grey photographs.
Some show weary men
and women waving
small half empty
beer glasses
in the air.
Others are of
car empty streets
clogged with leather boots
being dragged
to early shifts.
And some
are of boys playing
scrappy football
with tight balls
of Western and Echo
in muddy parks
bordered with adverts
for cheap beer and bread.

Bob dydd
the old men
will return and sit
and see it all again.
The departing visitors
will not see them.

microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Born in the Workhouse

Works like a dream...the city is littered

with used up cars...too many lost people

just wandering around...nervous landscapes...

there's plenty to do when you needs to 

be doing more...you looks like yous

broken into your own brown pin stripes...

too many keyholders and kerbside visits.

Ideas - Steve Coel

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Busy in the studio

working on

Born in the Workhouse.

These pictures / illustrations

are 120 x 80 [ approx. ].

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Born in the Workhouse

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Photographs

torn,

show 

long 

dead 

faces,

long 

forgotten 

dreams.

Clothes,

ragged

with 

age

lie

with

shoes

torn

from

play.

And
young

harsh 

eyes

glare 

suspiciously,

revealing

dark

rainy

days

and

long

hot

summers

all

faded.

Busy putting together
ideas for
Born in the Workhouse [ 2019 ].

microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Born in the Workhouse

heb deitl

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Busy in the studio.
Putting together ideas for
Born in the Workhouse [ 2019 ].
This is likely to include: film
making of some kind, short performance 
pieces as well as microflashfictions.
Trying to keep it all under control
should be fun.

I'm guessing here!

microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Rust on Cloth [ Re-visited ]

Born in the Workhouse

21018

Steve Coel

Rust on Cloth

[ Re-visited ]

Steve Coel

You walks along striding lengths
of vacant brick walls
where even today 
you never sees new cars.

Sliding past
dark pub windows 
that shield sun and rain
and bad dreams,
you gets the full yeasty blast 
of damp cloth and old men 
sharing old stories
over warm beer
and brown fingers. 

Working in the studio on ideas for
Born in the Workhouse [ 2019 ].

microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication