A Fall From Grace: A Poem By Pete Marshall

A Fall From Grace

A Poem by Pete Marshall

The swings were still on Sabbath day

with padlocks clasped across the chains

as Father stood on lectern high

he mocked the weaks enduring pain

Whilst in the pew you sat so still

in clothes that covered teenage pride

ensnared by light that shimmered down

and framed your soul in celluloid

The numbered psalm was 23

that spoke of paths of righteousness

but boys would look and make you want

to raise the hem upon your dress

And temperance spied a whisky glass

as sweats would trickle from your brow

you plucked an apple from the tree

as weakness broke your solemn vow

Yet Father watched you from up high

in spittled rants and raging tongue

he laid the ghost upon your soul

and warned the Lord of what you’ve come

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

image courtesy creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/buzzby09/

A Gift From Grandpa.....(A Tale in 160 Characters)

A Gift From Grandpa

(A Tale in 160 Characters)

Softness wrapped in weathered skin

That takes the strain and holds you tight

Whilst dreams would pass from man to boy

He cradles your love and rocks you good night

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For more marvellous tales in 160 characters visit monkeyman

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

7:25 - A Poem by Pete Marshall

Please join me at One Stop Poetry to read my latest poem

7:25

A Poem By Pete Marshall

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image courtesry creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/canadagood/

Late Night Shopping: A Poem by Pete Marshall

Late Night Shopping:

 A Poem by Pete Marshall

Spirits gathered by the tills

as grey would colour cheap no frills

that stood in rows across the bay

mixed with juice and lemonade

that sat within a barge of steel

its frame was meshed, a squeaky wheel

would pause as chills would circle feet

in frozen foods our eyes would meet.

She touched her hair as mags suggest

showed signs she liked or so I’ve read

but eyes looked down on frozen peas

whilst I stood tall and hoped she’d see

the bogof sale that lined the shelves

her hair was red and loosely curled

and eyes that told a tale or two

were dressed for bed in midnight queues.

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

image courtesy creative commoms http://www.flickr.com/photos/kallao/

Let The Show Begin: A Poem By Pete Marshall

Let The Show Begin:

A Poem By Pete Marshall

The Cockerels crowed 

and Magpies flew

the Wolves would bay

as Black Cats mewed

And Vllains stole

the Citizens pride

behind the Cottagers

Gunners would strive

The Blues were sung

in Tangerine dreams

the sweets were Red

and Toffees cream

The Trotters growled

the Rovers attacked

the Irons were hot

and the Baggies were back

And Devils roared

whilst Potters played

the Pensioners fought

as Latics slayed….

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The English Football Season 2010-11 started last Saturday. The above poem is a tribute to all 20 teams competing this season in the Premiership....how? I will let you decide.

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Image courtesy creative commons flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/celinesphotographer/

The Thinker....(A Tale in 160 Characters)

The Thinker....

(A Tale in 160 Characters)

What thoughts can lurk within great minds

That brood on life whilst watching worlds

From depths the springs of life unwind

From heights you feel your doubts unfurl

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For more marvellous tales in 160 characters visit monkeyman

Tintagel - Birthplace of Arthur: A Poem by Pete Marshall

Tintagel - Birthplace of Arthur

Please visit One Stop poetry to read my poem, Tintagel - Birthplace of Arthur. This piece was written a few months ago and is included in my Chivalry & Savagery series, however after rereading this piece i have  taken the opportunity to tweak it. The revised piece is now showing over at One Stop Poetry. I hope you enjoy it!

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The Waiting Room: A Poem By Pete Marshall

The Waiting Room:

A Poem By Pete Marshall

I sat within a crowded room

awash with sounds of Monday gloom

and watched the clock

and wished each hand

would reach on down

and strike the damned.

People stared and others yawned

the clock would tick for those unborn

and watch the rain

on sun soaked streets

A rainbows arch

was incomplete.

A handkerchief would catch a sneeze

A bulbous face, a heavy wheeze

and death would sit

beside my chair

texting friends

polluting air.

City gent would read the news

as others read back dated views

the door burst forth

the silence wrenched

kids poured in

with clothes all drenched.

Eyes would stare but look straight down

coughs were heard and others frowned

then right behind

A mermaid swam

hushing kids

 and pushing pram.

And through my aches my manners gave

I smiled in warmth and offered shade

she took my seat

her baby screamed

she looked so sad

alone in dreams.

Then as she spoke in softened tones

my name was called, its time to go..

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

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

Eye, Eye Cap'n: A Poem By Pete Marshall

Eye, Eye Cap'n:

 A Poem By Pete Marshall

The seas would lap upon the hull

and gently wash their starboard bow

the sails were rolled into the boom

and winds too far to journey now

They stood in line alone in berth

A breeze would rattle empty masks

the sailors gone in town to dance

as captains sample rum from casks

But from the shore a man would watch

as pirates stroked their silent oars

between their teeth clenched sharpened blades

and on his shoulder a blue macaw…

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this is my poem inspired by the above image, taken by Adam Dustus, for the One Shoot Sunday picture prompt & photo feedback

The Dance of the Masquerade....(A Tale In 160 Characters)

The Dance of the Masquerade...

(A Tale In 160 Characters) By Pete Marshall

Oh how the joys of youth would cry

Whilst mouths were fed their veins ran dry

With those that joined this masquerade

They’d dance through realms their masters made

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Couldn't resist it, an ode to vampires & all things Poe! Hope you enjoyed my 160?

For more marvellous tales in 160 characters visit monkeyman

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

The Wreckers: My Exclusive Poem For One Stop Poetry

The Wreckers: My Exclusive Poem For One Stop Poetry

Please visit One Stop Poetry to read my piece, The Wreckers. This piece came about by the thought of how far you would go to feed your family when faced by mounting debts and hard times? Being unemployed this is a thought that is constantly on my mind, but then I thought back to a time so much different to the one we live in today but when these problems were just as rife!

The Wreckers tells a tale of a village whose men were to pay the ultimate price.

If being unemployed has affected you in anyway, if you would like to share your thoughts, enter into a discussion etc. please feel free to comment. Regards Pete

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The Lykewake Of Morag: A Poem By Pete Marshall

The Lykewake Of Morag: 

A Poem By Pete Marshall

The crows would circle high above

As death would waken on the ground

A hand would stretch and flick its claws

To trap the prey that swooped on down.

As feathers fell on sodden earth

And float as boats upon the breeze

Bones would crunch and blood would splay

That fed the Scarecrows dark disease.

The haar would creep along the links

As song was heard beyond the hill

The tabor marked the lykewake start

As clans would bow and mourn their still.

Upon the beach the waves would crash

And curse and spit their maddened angst

The mortcloth lay across her soul

As friends would come and offer thanks.

Through wynd and vennel souls would part

As spirits fled the darkened streets

The Scarecrow watched in silent thought

Whilst winds would blow through mans deceit.

And dirks were drawn at Morag’s hame

As Chiefs would curse their spoken vow

Blades would clash and wounds were deep 

But one remained to tell this tale…….

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

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Image courtesy creative commons flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/artbel/

The Red House...(A Tale In 160 Characters)

The Red House: 

A Poem By Pete Marshall

Who would live behind this red brick wall

Where flowers are left to grow so tall

Whose doors are locked to one and all

And windows are closed to drown their calls?

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This picture has been hanging in our house for nearly 5 years and was drawn when my son was in reception (that's first year at school, aged 4 -5). Its a glorious picture that always makes me smile, but I felt it was time to give it a twist!!! 

for more great tales in 160 visit monkeyman

Hopes And Dreams: A Poem By Pete Marshall

Hopes And Dreams: 

A Poem By Pete Marshall

Silence views a numbered face

its tick a steady, constant pace

disturbed by shouts & breaking glass

doors are slammed on parking cars

and parent frets alone in bed

whilst vodka fuels a gangland debt

an acned face that puffs on bob

and work is just a sign-on job

who meets his mates in cycle P

then sits and stares at soap filled screens.

Single mum will bring him chips

then out to screw some local chicks

that pride themselves in nothing skirts

who eye the metro-sexual shirts

then up against abrasive walls

that rub the backs of hardened fools

who’s future lies in wasteland dreams

and bass that pumps from flash machines

that burn on hopes of fast earned cash

and live the life’s of spoiled WAGS

whilst mum still sits alone and frets

her lonely life of drunk regrets.

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

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

The Dawn Chorus: A Poem By Pete Marshall

The Dawn Chorus: 

A Poem By Pete Marshall

Having returned from a fabulous weeks camping with my family, I celebrated my return with a poem, The Dawn Chorus, at One Stop Poetry. If you haven't read this already please visit. Cheers and good life to all, Pete

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The River Runs Wild...(A Tale In 160 Characters)

The River Runs Wild...

(A Tale In 160 Characters) 

By Pete Marshall

The current flowed beyond the rocks

Where fish would dart and children stopped

And mothers would grieve on Parson's Lawn

As waters still flowed from dusk till dawn

for more tales in 160 visit monkeyman

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