The Haunting....(A Tale In 160 Characters)

The Haunting...(A Tale In 160 Characters)

by Pete Marshall

Shivering and scared we would hide in fear

As we watched you glide across the room

And through your face we saw no smile

Whilst midnight songs would play your tune

for more tales in 160 visit monkeyman

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image courtesy creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/tomasrotger/

Alone In Her Dreams: A Poem Of Love Unknown

Alone in Her Dreams: 
A Poem Of love Unknown

Silently she sleeps alone in her dreams,

is it here I exist or am I a myth?

Illusions are real as I lay by her side

yet tonight I felt lost, those fires have died.

The room where we loved no longer feels warm,

our once flowering bed now ravaged by thorns,

my head lays in nettles my limbs upon weeds

and still she sleeps alone in her dreams.

                           

I watch her breathe, she murmurs she moans,

there are two in this bed but one is alone.

Her mind is her secret kept hidden from me,

her words are like legends in stories she weaves,

but words are not spoken when love is not real,

truths are kept secret and never revealed.

A tear gently forms to run down my cheek

yet still she sleeps alone in her dreams.

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image courtesy creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/sharynmorrow/

A Love That's Lost: A Poem In Memory

A Love That's Lost: A Poem In Memory

Saturdays are my days over at One Stop Poetry. Today I wish to share with you all an old poem of mine, A Love That's Lost. 

This poem is very close to my heart and I just wanted to bring it back into focus. It explores the depth of Alzheimers and how it affects relationships. Imagine being with your partner for many years and then seeing that rock disappear before you. The obvious concern is always with the person that is fighting the illness but what of their partner, how does it affect them? A Love That's Lost is about this.

Thanks for following, all the best, Pete

The Piper: A Poem That Tells The Tale Of Hamelin

The Piper: A Poem That Tells The Tale Of Hamelin

From out of shadows crept the night

that forced its will upon the streets

as voices drifted on the breeze

A swing would rock an empty seat

A buxom girl in loosened clothes

laughed as hands would paw her breasts

and as they fell on cobbled stones

he rummaged mongst her ruffled dress

Behind the doors the weak would pray

as children slept in hallowed rooms

and voices soothed and whispered psalms

as piper played his lilting tune

the rats would gather from the drains

and twitch their snouts at blackened fayre

but piper passed their gathering throng

and played a song that filed the air

doors were closed and bolted tight

and lovers fled to darkened homes

but children stirred and crept to see

from where the tune would gently flow

And from the windows out they climbed

as beds were left all soft and warm

they followed him beyond the bridge

and out of town and in to dawn

the wails were heard as mothers cried

at rooms where souls no longer slept

the village grieved the rats still played

as Hamelin cleared its final debt

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This piece is also featured in One Shot Wednesday, a new gathering place for poets & writers to showcase their talents

image creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/roberts87/

Drive By Dreams & Seaside Themes

Drive By Dreams & Seaside Themes:

A Poem About The Great British Seaside

I pulled into a ravaged street

strewn with sacks of littered dreams

and policemen lay so fast asleep

as traffic flowed past hooded thieves.

The rays burned hard on suntanned arm

that hung outside my limousine

and girls would saunter down the path

in skirts that length was gauged obscene.

My shades were dark, I looked the part

I cranked the sound of heavy beats

and summer sun would make me sweat 

as I cruised into another street.

And people stopped, I did not care

I pushed the limo in spite of their

glares that strained a disbelief

I shaped my hand and motioned grief.

They scurried past , I laughed aloud

and turned the limo on the crowd.

But now I cruised the boulevard

its palm decked lines of disregard.

The beats that pumped as people stared

that shook the car and buzzed the air,

and women ran in jogging pants

with cheeks that squeezed beneath the hem.

I carried on down to where the slots

and lights would flash and bring them in.

I passed the rows of drunken sops

whose kids were left to run amok

and chase the sounds of grab machines

stuffing coins in plush filled dreams,

high on floss and candy rock

and sugar stains on summer frocks.

And tattooed man would cross the road

eyes on me he tried to goad

I squeezed the gas and edged on near

as bass was pumped his eyes showed fear.

And Whitney stood and smiled at me

her man was weak and I was king

but girls can come and usually go

the limo seats are where they show.

Fake Las Vegas bars and dreams

and seaside towns are hardened things

I push the limo further on

into the world where I belong

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as featured at One Stop Poetry

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image courtesy creative commons flikr 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lordspudz/

The Lovers: A Poem From The Darkened Tales Collection

The Lovers: 

A Poem From The Darkened Tales Collection

The room was filled with summers heat

and heavy scents of stifled air

I lay upon a burning pyre

and gently brushed your raven hair

I watched you hide behind a mask

that fuelled the urge of lover’s dare

I cupped your face between my palms

our pupils spoke in whispered stares

And as you slipped from off my bed

I hoped the Lord would grant my prayer

I watched you softly paint your lips

Then strike and fill me with despair

You scoured my eyes with fists of sand

and grabbed my face and pulled it tight

you ripped into my pulsing vein 

then fled into the darkened night...

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This piece is also featured in One Shot Wednesday, a new gathering place for poets & writers to showcase their talents

image creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/amanky/

The Sacrifice..(A Tale In 160 Characters)

The Sacrifice....(A Tale In 160 Characters)

By Pete Marshall

I travelled deep into her wretched heart

and staked my claim upon her will

I watched her screams whilst darkness danced

And prayed with friends that gathered still

for more tales in 160 visit monkeyman

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image creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/mugley/

Sunken Dreams: A Poem From The My Struggle With Unemployment Series

Sunken Dreams: A Poem From The 

My Struggle With Unemployment Series

I sailed a barge of purest gold

That travelled far on clear blue seas

Aware of mists that followed stern

And ships that chased my golden dreams

In ports I berthed that welcomed me 

And treated me the conquering lord

But masks would hide my failing charms

As rot was all that lay onboard

The sea would roar beyond the cliffs

As winds blew dreams down empty streets

And beggars gathered in cardboard homes

As sweat and vomit masked excrete

A shadow fell on yesterday

As clouds crept in on stifled air

Alone inside I hid the truth

That stares down barrels fraught with fear

I came to rest where once I prayed

For here now lies my wasted years

And pass the stones that told my fate

As storms grew strong I battled tears

I stopped to smell my favourite bloom

That always flowered so fragrantly

But what’s the point, I broke its stem

Then turned and fled away from here.....

For those of you that have followed my journey there should always be hope, but I have lost some of that. I have a hearing set for unpaid bills which I now face with bated breath. I look at all I have and what I have given my family and I see it slipping away. My poem, Sunken Dreams, reflects this..

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image creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/dr-trix/

Mr Plush: A Poem That Tells The Tale Of A Bear

Mr Plush

Mr Plush to some is cute

Cuddly, warm, a soft brown suit

With button eyes and patched up nose

Sentiments bought from long ago

Mr Plush sits in his chair

And rocks the rooms foreboding air

His hands tight clasped with eyes of steel

That scream in silence with foul ill will

Mr Plush first built his pile

When played a hand at Falstaff’s trial

He lines his pot and builds his walls

And loves to see how others fall

Mr Plush sits on a chair

Loved by all with cuddles & care

Mr Plush looks down his nose

And hoards the cash that sentiment flows

Mr Plush once had it all

Friends that came to summer balls

But Mr Plush is now threadbare

All have gone & no one cares

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image creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/31007239@N06/