MicroFlashFiction - Steve Coel

Never judge a cover

Strydoedd

arbrofion gweledol / lliw

Steve Coel

Never judge a cover
Steve Coel

Death bed.

Right up to his dying moment.

Hospital bed, fussy frightened nurses,

bitter violent relatives, security

keeping a close eye.

Just in case.

Got the nickname, he will die with, straight

after he left borstal for the last time.

First time in jail, he had already made

his reputation, even though he was still

a kid. Just a boy.

Because, reputations, if well handled, can

last a lifetime.And he wasn't lucky.

Just focused.

So, he started out at the top and finished

at the top.

Like they say, never judge a cover.

Evil when he had to be, dangerous even.

Real villains always had time for him,

respect given and received.

And now, 70 years on, dying, like we all do,

but in his case really badly.

Pencil, paper, all he ever wanted.

In truth, all he ever needed.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Since I bust my legs down The Works
I's had to spend all my mornings
blowing dead air into warm harp
by the Central 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
talking to the old girls
warming themselves up,
before they goes and shelters
under the bridge by The Glastonbury.

Stryd Fawr / Stryd Uchel

Steve Coel

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.
Need change of shoes mind.
I'll find some in box
by side of door in morning.

Stryd Fawr / Stryd Uchel

Steve Coel

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Lighten Up

Taith Araf [ Braslun ]

Steve Coel

Lighten Up

Steve Coel

Mystery man, shadow man
is what they used to call him.
Him a thin whistle at dusk,
the latest three day millionaire
returning from sea
to die again
over and over.

Shallower sea back then too.
Better cut cloth
broader smiles.
Now; so many rope marks
and twisted bones on metal
have become mixed with drink,
drunk sharp curses and
dark corners.

Born in The Workhouse

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Clifftop Walk

Cliff Top Walk [ Braslun ]

Steve Coel

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

Photographs

torn,

show long dead

faces,

long forgotten

dreams.

Clothes,

ragged with age

lie with shoes

shredded from play.

And young harsh eyes

glare suspiciously,

revealing dark rainy days

and long hot summers

all faded.

Born in the Workhouse

microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Rust on Cloth

Taith Araf [ 2013 ]

Steve Coel

Taith Araf [ 2013 ]

Steve Coel

Rust on Cloth

Steve Coel

You walks along striding
lengths of vacant brick
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 stories,
over warm beer
and brown fingers.

Born in the Workhouse

microflashfiction

Steve Coel

Glare

Glare [ 2011 ]

Meeting in city parks
below glass power buildings,
freedom papers flutter
along dirty stone paths.

Trees glisten and glare
remembering horses, bicycles,
happy couples.

In narrow side streets,
hecklers dressed in black
and blue stomp out rhythms
to drum beats,
played on plates
and tablets of stone
and tin.

[ Extract[s] from Glare, Mud on a Plate - 2011.
An 11.59 Publication ]

Stryd Fawr / Stryd Uchel

Steve Coel

Stryd Fawr / Stryd Uchel

Steve Coel

A chance meeting, at a meeting, led to a conversation,
a look around the studio and a series of ideas
discussed about both old and future projects.
Older series / projects, I realise, are never really resolved
they just kind of keep on evolving as new [ and old ] audiences don't always pick up on them straight away.
I like that.
I like that a lot.

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Footfall in Albany

Footfall in Albany

Steve Coel

Footfall in Albany

Steve Coel

Footfall in Albany

Steve Coel

Footfall in Albany

Steve Coel

Part 1 - Morning.

Is all about frail, weightless, frightened older men who come into cafe for 3 hour coffees and dried up toast and who talk endless bollocks about non existent winning horses.

Part 2 - Afternoon.

Is mainly about shapeless local smackheads and hard-core druggies who come into cafe to settle small debts and to boast about knowing where next deal is going to happen.

Part 3 - Evenings.

End of the day for some, sees cheap fatty meals and
shelter from the pain of the street.

Part 4 - Late Nights.

Is about 'real money' being made in busy stockrooms of empty shops.

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel

Footfall in Albany

Arbrofion

Steve Coel

Footfall in Albany

Arbrofion

Steve Coel

Footfall in Albany

Arbrofion

Steve Coel

Footfall in Albany

Arbrofion

Steve Coel

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Fresh Faced

Arbrofion

Steve Coel

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel

Born in the Workhouse

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

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?