Tuesday, 22 February 2011

A Hidden Truth

A Hidden Truth
by Pete Marshall

A spider clung upon its web
and held onto its social thread
that snared the very soul of life
and danced and spoke of wanton vice

A cuckoo found another’s nest
and there she lay her precious egg
whilst others fed her growing brood
she thought not once of gratitude

A magpie spied a shining prize
and with her tricks and masked disguise
she sneaked on in through open doors
and there she scratched and there she clawed

A wolf would sniff and paw the ground
whilst others rushed and run around
and licked her lips at fat to chew
upon the backs of those she knew

A bat would suck the heart & soul
that gave all hope then let life go
where off she took into the night
to seek out more upon her flight


A Hidden Truth is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry, a platform to help promote & share your poetry.

One Shot Wednesday opens every Tuesday evening at 5pm EST (10pm UK)..come and join in the fun

image courtesy creative commons flickr

Sunday, 20 February 2011

I was 10 in '77

I was 10 in ‘77
by Pete Marshall

I was 10 in ‘77
when first I felt the force
of hardened fists from wayward scum
that pinned me down in makeshift courts

I was 10 in ‘77
when first I heard an iron lung
that breathed in deep and rasped for breath
as grandpa’s life was finely hung

I was dead in ‘77
until they came and filled the screen
and gave me hope to live each day
amongst the stars and laser beams

I was 10 in ‘77
when  faith would come into my life
and gave me strength to fight the dark
that gripped my mind throughout the night

I was 10 in ‘77
the age my boy is now
when sci-fi scenes and school boy dreams
caused visual sensual wow


This is my poem for the One Shoot Sunday picture prompt, image by JackAZ Photography

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

Wasted: A Poem by Pete Marshall

by Pete Marshall

I lay upon a soaking sheet
as bile would spit and curse inside
and hope betrayed in loss fuelled sleep
as young would cry and seek the night

Where acid rose and tore through me
like fists that punched my very heart
that yearned for calm from troubled seas
to take my pain and soothe my fight

The days would merge through darkened gloom
with blinds drawn tight on littered rooms
where sleep would fall for weary heads
and life would stop the living dead

Your body lay so still yet burned
and roared the furnace in my soul
that raged upon my clammy flesh
and forced the sweat to ebb & flow

The chills would shake my tired bones
and light would hurt my aching eyes
where coughs & calls for mother’s love
would bring forth strength to hush their cries


The last 7 days have been hell! Sickness took hold of my household and laid each and everyone of us low. Last night I penned this verse as sickness was all that was on my mind.

I also share this poem with One Shot Wednesday, an amazing platform offered by One Stop Poetry for sharing your work

image courtesy creative commons flickr

Tuesday, 8 February 2011

The 70's: A poem by Pete Marshall

The 70’s
by Pete Marshall

Darkened rooms and parlour games
& lights were out before we slept
the TV still as silence framed
and trips on stairs where terror crept.
The shadows loomed outside the door
upon a saucer burning bright
in flickered light upon the floor
we journeyed forth into the night.

The mornings came to see your breath
that floats across a nylon sheet
the ice would sit on window ledge
inside the room where children sleep.
You’d walk alone to school that day
as wind would whip around your legs
in tank-tops wove by Auntie Mae
upon the streets where life was led.

Heat would burn upon your back
midst children’s screams & drive by cars
as waters rushed the children clapped
with saucepans filled and skin picked scars.
The pistols shot at neighbours kids
that stung the eye with bubble soaks
whilst mum would spend a paper quid
to buy us drinks of bottled coke.


The poem I have written today is a reflection of my childhood growing up the the 1970's. History will tell you a story, one of power cuts, the three day week, water shortages, heat waves and so forth, but it never captures the excitement of children running around a water stand pipe, collecting water for their parents to boil, whilst having an amazing water fight!

And then there was the power cuts, no TV and candle light throughout the house. With only one toilet I will never forget how lonely and brave I felt as I wandered upstairs alone!

This was also life before double glazing & central heating when you would wake to see ice  inside your windows.

This Poem is also shared for One Shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry, a great platform for sharing your work and meeting other poets. It opens tonight at 10pm UK time. 5pm EST

Sunday, 6 February 2011

Within His Realm: A Poem by Pete Marshall

Within His Realm
a poem by Pete Marshall

H.G. Wells would sit upon
a swivel chair and ponder on
a World at War with Time Machines
where Halo Reached beyond his dreams.

And in the cellar far below
a Martian searched, an amber glow,
as rain would fall and wet the ground
revealing Man whose footsteps found
the Shape of Things within this barn
where years would pass and come to harm
and Sleepers Woke to tell their tales
as Orson spoke a Country wailed.

Whilst Man would walk upon the Moon
Begotten Stars saw purple blooms
which led to where the flowers grow
upon the isle of Dr Moreau


This is my poem for One Shoot Sunday, at One Stop Poetry. The amazing image is taken by Sean McCormick, who has been featured today

Tuesday, 1 February 2011

A Shared Desire: Poetry from the Darkened Tales

A Shared Desire
Poetry from the Darkened Tales

A howl would carry on the wind
that whipped through bones, lay bare and broke,
where slumped against a concrete wall
lay worthless scum the Scarecrow choked.
Yet once this waste was mothers pride,
before a life of drink and dope,
and ravaged arms and needle marks
disguise where once lay parents hope.
The cards are often stacked against
and praise was ever rarely spoke,
he chewed the fat of life's mistakes
and left them there, these ravaged folk.

She lived through years, a lasting hope,
as times would change and battles fought
but always looked beyond her back 
for time was all her battles brought.

Her age would show within her eyes
as tears would flow and gently soak
and stain the flowing tapestry
where words were sewn and softly spoke.
She felt the warmth of raging flames
then slipped herself from out her cloak,
her body lithe upon the bed
awaiting Scarecrows fumbled grope.
The blood was caked upon his face
when joy would come and with him hope,
she held him close, her talisman,
as Cougar smiled her yearnings woke.


This poem belongs to the Darkened Tales Series, and has also been shared with One Shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry, which opens tonight at 10pm UK time

If you haven't already, please also vote for One Stop Poetry in the Shorty Awards. There are two categories applicable, Art & Poetry, many thanks, Pete

image used creative commons flickr gforster67