Tuesday, 25 January 2011



No one seemed to smile today
upon their face a weary frown
with troubled eyes and heavy hearts
and souls that wandered through the town.
The rain had spat across my brow
and chills would mar my aching bones
inside I sat in warmth and prayed
but still no smiles were ever shown.

Yet hope was sought on flickered screens
in numbered doubts that troubled minds
a pen was held in front of me
to sign once more upon the line
and painted nails played QWERTY tricks
who's eye's would stare inside of me
beyond her gaze I saw the clouds
and hardened times on troubled streets.

No one seemed to smile today
so I took the car and drove away
I found a place to be alone
and watched the passing of the day.
I saw the birds all huddled tight
to ward the chill from causing ill's
and watched the cars just drive on past
yet no one smiled behind their wheel.

I saw the joggers running by
who breathed new life into their soul
and as their feet would pound the ground
the fear of loss would take its toll.
I saw the pain within your eye's
when I returned to be alone
I held you close to hide despair
the smile was gone no longer known.


This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday...a fantastic platform organised by One Stop Poetry...opens tonight, and every Tuesday at 10pm UK Time

image courtesy creative commons flickr

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

Broken Breakers

Broken Breakers

In line they stand so proud and tall
whilst comrades lie both beat & broke
and sunsets blur a weary sky 
as pebbles wait for tides to choke

the boats set sail on evening swell
that sweeps beyond the swollen creeks
and cast their nets with hope held high
yet on the shores a lover weeps

for three set sail just yesterday
yet two returned to share their hoard
amongst the rocks & cockleshells
lay those that left to meet their Lord

the tides have strength but lack in heart
and choose not man for all they see
but flesh upon a beaten soul
that takes the breath too easily

and then they drift and out they go
to leave once more a broken beach
the breakers stand a mournful still
to wait once more for tides to reach 


Today's poem for One Shot Wednesday, which opens at 10pm UK time tonight, has been inspired by the art work of my friend & local artist, Donna Cove, who, I am pleased to say, has finally set up a blog to showcase some of her work. This can be seen at

Monday, 17 January 2011

The Pulse

The Pulse

I count the beat within my head
you whisper words so soft and true
I feel the heat that warms our bed

The love that flows our passions fed
that makes me cling inside of you
I count the beat within my head

I feel you rush as love is spread
upon the throw you softly mew
I feel the heat that warms our bed

As love lays blind and hope lays dead
where now its just a wanton screw
I count the beat within my head

The crimson sheets where love has bled
the punctured vein the blood you drew
I feel the heat that warms our bed

Into the night this evil fled
to leave me here in solitude 
I count the beat within my head
I feel the heat that warms our bed


this poem, The Pulse, is my first ever attempt at writing in the style, villanelle, which is being highlighted at One Stop Poetry. If you would like to know more about this style of writing please visit the following link;

image creative commons

Sunday, 16 January 2011

Forever in Blue Jean's

Forever in Blue Jeans

Poverty pinched on denim jeans
that sat above her hard earned shoes 
and he’s the boy from up the hill
where social heights will sing the blues

She works the line from 9-5
whilst daddy pays his college fees
yet money’s tight and honey talks
and love is found  inside her jeans

He stole a kiss behind the shack
where beers will flow too easily
and spoilt kids with far too much
will take a hint of ecstasy

But love was found within the shade
where hearts would melt on shabby walls
and there they kissed in shadowed light
as denim jeans were lost with fools


This is my poem for the One Shoot Sunday Picture Prompt. The amazing photograph has been taken by Katherine Forbes who's wonderful interview can also be read at One Stop Poetry

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

For My Boy

For My Boy

My boy became a man today
as tears flowed down his youthful cheeks
and pain was felt within his heart
with strength he fought as armies meet.

And whence no more the battle came
he limped across the soaken’ field
as eyes would meet and mouth his name
and there was I to be his shield.

The skin was sore in blood soaked cloth
yet steel was born within his mind
despite the wound he carried on
and fought until the end of time.


This poem is dedicated to my oldest son, who is 9. It simply is inspired by his braveness this Sunday, during a soccer match.

My boy played his heart out but came off in tears. The boots he was wearing where too small. He had outgrown them. He loved these boots but knowing how much they cost he kept this too himself because he didn't want us to have to worry about the money.

As he limped off the pitch, despite being man on the match and not letting his team mates down, he couldn't stop crying and that is when i found out. The back of his ankle had rubbed raw and was bleeding.

My boy grew up today, and my boy got his new boots.


This is my poem for One shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry, which opens at 10pm UK (5pmEST).  A great platform for poets to share and promote their work

image courtesy creative commons flickr

Tuesday, 4 January 2011


by Pete Marshall

We walked along the beach today;
the waves lay calm and lapped the shore
but joys were gone for little ones
who traipsed to school  just like before
their dreams had come and warmed our home
where fire hearths had gently glowed
and song was sung and peace was known
but now its gone, we’re home, alone.

We took the tree down today;
as winds blew forth through open doors
that brought the angel to the floor
with sparkles boxed and stored once more.

I shed my first tears today;
as letters fell through broken doors
that crept like claws through darkened jaws 
and laid upon an unswept floor.

I went to bed today;
and pulled the covers close & tight
and waited for the little ones
to come once more and bring forth light
that’s left this house we still call home
where fires died and never glow
no songs are sung now peace has flown
and Christmas next, at home, unknown.


Today my children went back to school, we took the decorations down and said goodbye to Christmas. Yet still I remain unemployed...and wonder whether this Christmas will be the last in our home!

This poem is for One Shot Wednesday, at One Stop Poetry, which opens 10pm UK time tonight.

image courtesy creative commons flickr

Sunday, 2 January 2011

My Coney Island Baby

My Coney Island Baby

Hedonistic summer dreams 
within this sandscape world
Crazy Feeling's rising high
and tricks with Charley's Girl

Parasols that hide our shame
for She’s My Best Friend’s pearl
sequinned lace, her painted face
and Kicks that made us whirl

His Gift was she or maybe me
Oooohhh Baby take this pain
in summers heat where lovers meet
they play their heady games

Nobodys Business on this beach
androgynous dreams were maybe
A fluttered fan, a soft held hand
my Coney Island Baby…….


The wonderful image is taken by Danielle Kelly and simply titled "Coney Island". It is featured today on One Shoot Sunday, part of One Stop Poetry, and forms their picture prompt. Check out the amazing interview with Danielle Kelly whilst you are there too.