Tuesday, 20 December 2011

Touched: A poem by pete marshall

by pete marshall

Touched by a walk through the bustling streets
lights that shine bright on the joys that we seek
laughter rings loud from the young & naive
yet darkness draws near on a cold Winters Eve

Touched by the wealth of those who walk free
unshackled by debt and goodwill to all thee
credit secured that brings forth some reprieve
yet darkness draws near on a cold Winters Eve

Touched by the brush of two lovers who speak
embracing in shadows in bars where they meet
dreams laced with passion as partners deceive
yet darkness draws near on a cold Winters Eve

Touched by the warmth of food that came forth
by fires that kindled and glowed in the hearth
of songs of our Lord and gifts we receive
yet darkness came home on a cold Christmas Eve


This year has had more downs than ups, and some of you know what the last few weeks have brought to the Marshall house, and, as optimistic as I try to remain, Saturday I went to town and just came straight back home!!!

Its hard being cheery all the time and at Christmas this is emphasized more. I felt low but so do so many others and whilst I had my reasons I was able to come home, talk to my wife, embrace my children and was back on track again, but for so many others this is not possible and with that in mind I dedicate this poem to those souls that are lost & lonely.


Today I also share this poem with dverse, especially my old friends from One Stop Poetry days, brian miller, claudia schonfeld, gay reiser-cannon who along with my brother, adam dustus and a very special friend in shan ellis, a collection of poetry, In The Presence of Poets, has been released.  For details of this publication please click on the following link

In The Presence of Poets


Thursday, 1 December 2011

Winters Blues by pete marshall

Winters Blues
by pete marshall

Leaves still cling upon the trees
as cloudless skies embellish rays
of sun that hovers low beneath
the Winter blues that shorten days

Breath encircles worried minds
that hang from spiders silken threads
that shimmer bright in morning light
yet in the shadows harbours death

Damp that settles on the ground
where grass & weeds are mulched as one
that sees the snakes go slither by
whilst Summers work is left undone

A child’s bike lays on its side
left alone to play no more
its wheels entwined with Winters grief
abandoned, broke, upon the floor

A veil is drawn passed waiting eyes
that looked beyond these changing times
where man once walked the beat of life
yet turned his back, we missed the signs

Where hope is lost to those that deem
when Winters wrath sunk Autumn dreams
and storms have battered withered souls
who slip from life before they go……


Elements in the news this week rekindled the pain of losing someone close. Depression is an illness, something that should never be taken lightly, something that is very close to my heart.

Monday, 21 November 2011

Removed by pete marshall

by pete marshall

From deep inside she felt the heat
of scars that stained her swollen flesh
that burned upon her ravaged throat
upon a mattress soaked in sweat

An ashen face that looked beyond
the pale of hope and lost respect
a fetid breath that spoke of death
that uttered words yet felt regret

Sleep would fall upon her face
as eyes would flicker gently tight
a kiss that sealed a warm embrace
that kept her safe throughout the night

And moments pass despite the hour
as coughs awake her silken dreams
that flow with grace & dampen fires
that quell her fear & stem the screams.


My 7 year old daughter has had problems all her life with her tonsils, having been hospitalized for a week in August with a severe infection. Today they were finally removed. She is fine & doing well.

Today I also link this poem up with a wonderful community of poets, D'verse

Thursday, 17 November 2011

A Broken Home by pete marshall

A Broken Home
by pete marshall

I walked around an empty home
Despite the toys that laid upon
An unkempt bed with duvet drawn
Where Mickey sat withdrawn, alone

Beneath the bed a comfy den
Of cushions , sheets & cuddly friends
Yet mum has gone and taken him
The room lays cold, unwelcoming

And dads alone, beside himself
As tears pour down his reddened cheeks
The life he’d slaved to bring them wealth
Just gathers dust whilst mother weeps


image care of wikipedia

Saturday, 12 November 2011

The Gathering by pete marshall

The Gathering
by pete marshall

As mice ran forth across the floor
from open boards, through rotting doors
where damp would crawl and spread upon
beyond the course the plaster blown
and sweats that chill the very skin
would soak the sheets of darkened dreams
hope would see the morning in
yet droppings lay by ravaged bins
amongst the crumbs of sweetened things
& faeces shared from deep within
upon the floor, across the beams
for hours count the gathering

Outside the mist a swirling screen
that creeps along and slips between
the leaves that fall from autumn trees
the taste of salt from off the sea
and sweats that chill the very skin
would soak the sheets of darkened dreams
hope would see the morning in
from out their nests they rode the wind
the rooks would kaah whilst circling
then swoop upon the menacing
across the paths and dew soaked green
for hours count the gathering

Within a damp and blackened cask
a heart would beat behind a mask
where eyes are wide & pained with fright
beneath the earth this fearful night
and sweats that chill the very skin
would soak the sheets of darkened dreams
hope would see the morning in
upon the boards you scratch & scream
your nails are spent and blistering
the blood is rushing from within
cries are echoes for your sins
for hours count the gathering


A new Darkened Tale

image courtesy creative commons flikr

Thursday, 10 November 2011

waves by pete marshall

by pete marshall

I saw you look across the bay,
A distant mast, the raging waves

Your ocean gaze that never strayed,
A recent past, the taste of spray

The brine upon a twisted lip,
A bitter taste, a sunken ship

A Wind that blew through auburn hair,
A tidal swirl, a silent stare

I saw a tear caress your face,
A smudge of kohl, a yearned embrace

A storm that blew and tossed the waves,
where love now lies in watered graves


Been a while since I have written but a yearning grabbed me today resulting in this. I hope that yearning stays!

image courtesy creative commons flickr

Friday, 26 August 2011

What Lay Before by pete marshall

What Lay Before?
by pete marshall

They hopped along this sacred earth
where bones would lay in open graves
picked the worms from rotting leaves
that turn to mulch and then decay

A flap of wings upon a gust
would settle forth within the trees
perched on high to spy the world
tears would flow as all would grieve

Feather’s fell from high above
floating past an open view
they sat upon a window ledge
where dolls would play in solitude

Bars align this sheltered space
hardened steel surrounds the home
boards are trod by strangers who
remove the tiles where magpies roam

Two would sit upon the slate
beneath where dreams of hope now fade
rock is dropped to crash and break
upon the path where gold once lay


Ever wondered What Lay Before? My home has a history and the land is stands on can tell even older tales. 

image courtesy creative commons flickr

Thursday, 18 August 2011

Match Day

Match Day
by pete marshall

Floodlit dreams upon a baize
where shadows waltz and serenade,
who dance & weave within a heart
as man turns boy, as light turns dark.
When thoughts are lost within your dreams,
seasoned hopes and passions screamed,
bags are packed but never seen,
lovers leave as games have been.


Tonight my good friend Julie Watkins hosts Meeting the Bar at D'verse, when challenged with "tackling the big subjects", heck she could only mean football...surely

image courtesy creative commons flickr

Tuesday, 9 August 2011

In Justice

In Justice
by pete marshall

Cobbled stones that lead unto
a granite wall & iron rails,
death would walk 'mongst weeping cries
beyond the gates of Bodmin gaol.

A smile that pulls past ragged teeth
bestows a child with ashen hair
who walks past rows of sullen homes,
dampened cells & stifled air.

Rights are called on bastard thieves
who stole a hunk from bakers fayre.
Alone she sat beyond reproach
yet fairies brought her food to share.

For troubled times begin to brew
as torches burn in hate filled streets,
the hangman bows upon a door
that opens forth past 13 feet.


Having just returned from visiting so many wonderful sites in Cornwall, this poem has been inspired after my first ever visit to Bodmin Gaol, and perhaps the troubled times we are currently envisaging.

This is  also shared with Dverse

image courtesy creative commons flickr

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

The Pale Horseman

The Pale Horseman
by pete marshall

Alone he rode through darkened nights
beneath the seas of raging storms
beyond the realm where others fight
to feel at peace, alone, forlorn.
Yet was this not a personal choice
where trust was found upon one's steed
to ride afar than use one's voice
to swing one's sword with bitter ease?

Darkened nights gave way to spring
the storms are just a tempests swirl
alone but full he found his place
then drew the curtains on this world.

In time they came to beckon thee
for legends spoke of mighty strength
the spinners weave embellished tales
yet battles fought had left him spent.
His steed had passed from journeys long
across the moors & winding roads
but never more to be alone
not now or then whereon he strode.


Today see's the final One Shot Wednesday, the end of One Stop Poetry and as sad as it is to see a wonderful venture close, the legacy of One Stop is all around, and can be seen in all of you.

It saddens me also to see others drawn in to a debate as to the whys & wherefores of why One Stop finished. The reason is simple, without one there is none.

If you were to read my pages both here & at One Stop over the last few months then perhaps you would also read that I was taking a back seat, in truth I had lost my passion, enthusiasm & muse, and could not be involved in something that I was struggling to participate in. Perhaps the reason that One Stop closed was because of this and me?

I do not wish to read anything further on this matter. One Stop has closed and we have all moved on to other things. At the moment I am taking a rest, so is Adam, Leslie is looking into other ideas whilst recuperating, Chris is moving and both Bri, Claudia & Gay are launching a new project, d'Verse, which begins tonight.

In time other communities will surface, we already have The River, which is a great bi-weekly newspaper.

One Stop was a great idea but stars will fade. I am sad that it has passed but I have been sad for a long time and perhaps that sadness was the start of its closure. 

I have always said, Poetry is the Winner, and it is poetry that unites, good life to all......Pete

image care of creative commons flickr

Sunday, 10 July 2011

Ruined: A poem by pete marshall

a poem by pete marshall

Walls were built, bards would sing,
rendered words, hardened seams,
rotting beams, timbered dreams,
weed's that grew a wondrous green.
Stones that spoke of many tales,
weathered shrines, holy grail’s,
cracks beneath a plastered veil
lost beyond entangled trails.


I wrote this poem for this weeks One Shoot Sunday, but also felt that it should be aired today. I would like to say a big thank you to each and everyone of you that has been part of One Stop Poetry, cheers Pete

Today is One Shoot Sunday and this stunning image is provided by accomplished photographer Neil Alexander.

Today is One Shoot Sunday, which see's both Adam & Chris wave goodbye. Today has also seen Claudia leave. Earlier this week Brian waved his goodbyes, as I yesterday. Today is a sad day.

Tuesday, 7 June 2011

Taken: By Pete Marshall

by pete marshall

Dolores smiled and held my hand,
her touch was soft upon my skin,
her lips were full upon my nape,
her thighs were warm and welcoming.

I felt a breath that chilled my skin
then crept along each vertebrae.
I closed my eyes and saw the joy
of devils dancing on my grave.

As willows hung above the stream
the winds would blow and gently sway,
the cry of lambs within the fields
as wolves would circle in the fray.

The pulse that beat within my mind
that flowed on through my poisoned veins,
the joy's I felt within your arms
upon your bed where dreams are made.


Today I bring you a new Darkened Tale, an offering for One Shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry.

If you like this and would like to read more of Dolores and the Darkened Tales visit, The Darkened Tales Collection

Not often I get to brag but have you seen this interview? The River Paper started last week and featured me...nice to get a mention once in a while, go to the following link, The River Paper

Cant believe I have written two poems this week! This is now my third week of work and its strange coming to terms with the change. The good news is I am writing  & now hopefully I will also start reading more again.

image creative commons

Sunday, 5 June 2011

The Shoemaker

The Shoemaker
by pete marshall

I carve the shape of trodden souls,
fastened tight to harden skin,
mallet’s wait for hearts to pound,
for Elf’s to come and roam within.

I’ve lived this life from boy to man
in tangled doubts with callused hands
that stitch the threads of spinners charm,
alone I work, this tranquil calm,
that knows no life thus what I am
a cobbler slaved to work the tan
who hides the loss of wasted years,
who cuts the cloth with sharpened shears.

Yet light will filter deep within
to reach upon this battered stool,
Elf’s will come each darkened night
and  work the minds of bitter fools.


One Shoot Sunday provides a wonderful interview and picture prompt challenge inspired by Rob Hanson, who is accredited to the wonderful image above.

Tuesday, 24 May 2011

Pride by Pete Marshall

by pete marshall

Within my grasp lies Eden's fruit
as apples bob in weary eyes,
that caught my breath, its hidden guise
to choke where snakes would slither by.
Upon my hands are hardened lines
that fortune wrote when luck would smile,
who shamed my soul with her beguile
then left me high but never dry!

Within my heart lies judgement day
where names are tossed upon a pile,
a random path, a lonely mile, 
darkened thoughts that fight denial.
This life exhumed upon the pyre
that burns with hate from vicious liars,
their webs are spun to feed desire
then leave us spent, betrayed, expired!


This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry, a fantastic place where poetry is shared, discovered and enjoyed.

It was a year ago when I got together with a few friends and discussed this project and look how it has grown! One Stop Poetry is a place created for people to enjoy the arts and explore their creative side.

Today it is hosted by Leslie Moon who has made a great point, what we do is for the love of art and the promotion of poetry. We give our time freely for you to have a place where you can enjoy and express yourselves too.

From a personal point of view One Stop has always been a place where ego's do not survive, it is a place where there is only one winner, the Arts, and particularly  poetry. 

On a different vein, yesterday I started work!! Yes, this is a surprise, I have a months contract but this is a start. My passion for One Stop remains, as does my passion for poetry but money needs to be earned. My dream was to turn One Stop into an online magazine, earning an income for those that put so much time into it on a daily basis, but what has happened is One Stop has formed itself into a community, a wonderful community,  but maybe their are still legs in that dream. Thanks for listening....pete


image courtesy creative commons flickr

Tuesday, 17 May 2011

Storm by Pete Marshall

by pete marshall

As darkened skies begin to close
storms have gathered in the bay,
 winds that whip, that swirl & sway,
boats that rock upon the waves.
I felt like shit upon the pier,
my hate would spill from deep inside
to spew out forth on your denial
where dreams were thrust through ones desire.

You bitch, you whore, you brazen slut
that played my cock and left me sore,
and licked those lips where once I spent
just left me quivering on the floor.

The gulls have flown as waves still rise,
the cracks, the roar within the skies,
 pain that grabs between my eyes,
dreams are hate I now despise.

Beneath the waves still crash and spray
as I would ride a freakin whore,
who knew the game, who screamed for more,
who stroked my arse to sell her cause.
The boats still float on ravaged seas
as lightening strikes a figure head,
a bolt is cast that strikes her face 
that leaves me short in angered breath.


I haven't been around lately, and life has had a few downs for me too! Today's poem is the first poem I have written since I last posted on my blog, about 3 weeks ago! Things haven't been too good on the unemployment front, everything is starting to catch up, not just the unsecured debts but also the mortgage! A long story that perhaps I will relate some other day.

Today's poem is an angry scream that spits venom at lady luck and the hand she has played.

Its also been a while since I have been involved in One Shot Wednesday, mainly because things had taken such a turn for the worse at home that I just could not face being involved.

All the best.....Pete


image courtesy creative commons flickr

Tuesday, 26 April 2011

Back to Reality

Back to Reality
by pete marshall

The Drive was long but too much road
forced the eyes to stare ahead,
see not what the rear view found
but follow stars that shine instead,
and then the gas ran dry,
so I walked home,
but home was also dead.


This is my poem for oneshotwednesday, part of One Stop Poetry. Opens at 10pm tonight UK time