To Have by pete marshall

To Have

by pete marshall

Entice the will that rules the mind

as spoils gleam through tarnished eyes

for all that glitters, hope wants gold

where from the depths their greed will rise

on bodies crushed beneath their perch

a force that hides its fearfulness,

empowers rage to rear itself,

to smite the meek who they possess.

No more the kin of bonds that tie

as price will pay their chosen whim

then chew the fat of those who fail

to feel the charge that flows within.

Tempers fall on weakened pawns

when bile thrusts its brooding glare,

pennies sent from heavens purse

will line the streets of those who dare

for powers rage is Satan’s curse

hid beyond their strengthened walls,

a conscience hemmed and lost to greed

that beats the weak and shits on fools.

*********************

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

Bring it on

Bring It On

by pete marshall

The sacred towers stand aloft

as gods caress this trodden earth,

Man will hold a pensive breath

when legends walk upon the turf.

The drums will sound to fuel their charge,

a clash of Clans that roar their cry,

through seas of Blue and Reddish hues

upon the stands their flags will fly.

The English dream and Spaniards hope

that rest upon a score and two

who ride the waves upon this storm,

a battle fought amongst the few.

The speed of wit and agile charm

that pierces steel with subtle ease.

The thud of hooves that dances past,

the pirouettes upon the breeze.

No broken soul or beaten man

will see no more than triumph brings,

who scream their cries and battle on

towards the realm of hopes & dreams.

***************

Originally published at One Stop Poetry 28th May 2011

This poem was in honour of the Champions League Final of 2011 between Manchester United & Barcelona

Where are they now?

Where are they now?

a poem by Pete Marshall

Her back was slumped against the wall

of needled art on fresh tattoo

A taste of beer would wet her lips 

as smokes were passed amongst the crew

and velvet tunes would pump the streets

as cans were kicked in DM’d feet

and Lucy laughed and smoked the skunk

as minds would turn in disbelief

but stocking tops and ripped up seams

and high heeled chicks and thigh high dreams

were all a part of teenage scenes

where boys would pain and girls would scream

Heady daze and heady girls

whose makeup wore upon myself

and clubs would buzz off Soho streets

for midnight dates in backroom suites

Debbie stood and laughed aloud

she drew the vibes from passing crowds

who threw her looks of dread and fear

her leather worn and makeup smeared

Jon would watch in silent stream

he liked the times with me and Dean

but never touched the liquid stuff

that rushed our nose and made us laugh

or smoked the stuff that Lucy sank

or drew on lines we paid with thanks

or took the pills and coloured tabs

or threw his life on needled jabs.

**************

Originally published at One Stop Poetry 27th Nov 2010

This poem was a homage to my youth, way back in 1983, when I used to visit the Batcave, a club in Soho, London and be....a Goth....some great and sad memories...good times and bad....I saw so many things happening around me and although I kept my head clear others suffered for it....and I wonder, Where are they now?

image care of creative commons flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/strangrthancandy/

The Riddle of the Fish

The Riddle of the Fish

a poem by Pete Marshall

As gold would rise in morning skies

Across the fjords and mountains high

A cat would mew a man would sigh

And toss a Dunhill on the fire

The Danish blue was soft to chew

As plans were made for tea for two

She’d knead the dough and blend the food

He’d tend his horse and wait for you

The Red coats marched in Pall Mall’s streets

To words of war and drummers beats

The milk would sour as mothers weep

And doves would fly for peace they seek

The Kaiser came upon the green

Where troops would march and death was seen

The coffee pots would shine and gleam

As Princes rode towards machine

The White flag flew above the rim

No beer would flow nor Nobel’s sing

For canine joys had seen them sin

When masters blew and sent them in

**************

Originally published at One Stop Poetry 20th Nov 2010

Albert Einstein posed a riddle and said that 98% of the worlds population would never solve it! The riddle was the Riddle of the Fish? Today Poetry & Science intertwine as I ask you "who has the fish?"

The Riddle is as follows

There are 5 houses that are each a different colour.

There is a person of a different nationality in each house.

The 5 owners drink a certain drink. They each smoke a certain brand of cigarettes and also have a certain pet. No owner has the same pet, smokes the same brand of cigarettes nor drinks the same drink.

The question is. "Who has the fish?"

1. The British man lives in the red house.

2. The Swedish man has a dog for a pet.

3. The Danish man drinks tea.

4. The green house is to the left of the white house.

5. The owner of the green house drinks coffee.

6. The person that smokes Pall Mall has a bird.

7. The owner of the yellow house smokes Dunhill.

8. The person that lives in the middle house drinks milk.

9. The Norwegian lives in the first house.

10. The person that smokes Blend, lives next to the one that has a cat.

11. The person that has a horse lives next to the one that smokes Dunhill.

12. The one that smokes Bluemaster drinks beer.

13. The German smokes Prince.

14. The Norwegian lives next to a blue house.

15. The person that smokes Blend, has a neighbour that drinks water.

I hope you have enjoyed this little piece of fun & if you are stuck...therein the poem lies the answer?

The Estuary

The Estuary

by Pete Marshall

The tidal surge that flows upstream

and creeps along through shallow creeks

the waders dip and search for food

as boats will rise from peaceful sleep

The sea will swirl across the banks

and fill the channels searching claws

that suck the souls of those who walk

upon the flats when tides no more

The cockle sheds still thrive with life

as wind blows through this busy wharf

and out to sea where boats once sailed

who gathered strength for England's cause

A walk beside this sheltered marsh

sees kestrels swoop upon their prey

and boats that sailed now gather mast

as tides will flow and drift away

***************

Originally published at One Stop Poetry 6th Nov 2010

This poem is written about the small fishing village of Leigh - on - Sea, Essex, situated in the Thames Estuary. The artwork accompanying this is a pastel drawing by local artist Donna Cove.

I have known Donna for many years and her drawings are always a joy to behold so its been a great pleasure of mine to be able to show her piece "Abandoned" which was drawn on the marshes of Leigh on Sea.

Leigh is just down the road from me and is located on the marshes of the Thames Estuary. Recently it was nominated as the 2nd most desirable place to live within the UK. It has a great history, having been mentioned in the Doomsday Book of 1086. From here in 1940 a large flotilla of little boats were to depart and rescue British Troops from the beaches of Dunkirk. In 1620 the Mayflower was to dock here to take on provisions before beginning its epic voyage to the new world with the Pilgrim Fathers. In 1917 the famous writer H G Wells was to purchase a house here for his mistress, and John Fowles, author of the French Lieutenant's Woman was born here in 1926.

A walk down the cobbled streets of Old Leigh is a walk back in time. If you are ever visiting the UK it can be found, by train, about an hours journey from London. 

A Deathly Tale

A Deathly Tale

by Pete Marshall

An axe that falls upon the neck

Of smoothen skin of innocence

Will draw the breath of life’s regrets

And spasm truths of brilliance

And from the earth the flowers grow

That suck on blood of those before

Who lay beneath in rotten casks

That bide their time with tooth and claw

For in the sky the moon is full

That shines upon the marbled tomb

Who’s stones are etched with flowing words

That speak of tales yet hide the truth

A howl is heard across the pond

As dust would settle on the shrine

The miller works within his realm

As wind blows sails that move with time

And blood will flow and rush through veins

As taste desires those who prey

To suck on sweetly sugared flesh

And stop once more to stay and play

************* 

Originally published at One Stop Poetry 31st Oct 2010

Lord have mercy on us

"Lord Have Mercy On Us"

a poem by Pete Marshall

Darkness falls on cobbled streets

That lead to doors of deep despair

The bell is rang for those that died

As wafts of death pollute the air

A heavy cart that trundles on

Collects the love that fell away

As Royals feast in silver halls

And chew the fat of life’s decay

The fires roar and warm their bones

Whilst bells are tolled and paupers roam

And streets are paved with others gold

Who hike the rates beyond two fold

A weary beast that pulls his load

As master sits with whip in hand

Is led beyond the outer walls

To bury hope amongst the damned

The petals fall from flowered stems

Of roses sung in lullaby’s

The pits are filled from broken homes

And dreams that lived and slowly died

******************

Originally posted at One Stop Poetry 25th Sep 2010

Autumn Dreams

Autumn Dreams

by pete marshall

The winters chill is drawing near

As wind whips through my tired bones

The furnace sparks and flares alight

The conkers placed around the home

The cobwebs hold a magic charm

As morning dew paints crystal scenes

The spiders knocked but cant get in

And lanterns glow in darkened dreams

The candy taste of trick or treat

That warms the mouth of innocence

Yet baptised souls will better fare

From witches spells and temperaments

And portals lay as weakened paths

When all who’ve gone can walk again

We pray their souls are one with God

So Man can walk once more with men

********

Originally published at One Stop Poetry 18th Sep 2010

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

Amen

Amen

by pete marshall

The amber glows on darkened walls

as embers spit within the hearth

A finger trawls an ancient list

and takes a name that’s walked its path

The creak of leather mars the sound

as Death would glide across the floor

and from a hook he takes his robe

and holds his scythe to reap once more

The horsemen ride beyond his grasp

to sow the seeds for Death to seek

the roots lie strong within the fields

as harvest gathers in the meek

His mouth is curled with withered lips

and eyes are sunk beyond his soul

his mind cares not for creed or Man

as Death collects his countless toll

************

Originally published at One Stop Poetry 11th Sep 2010

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

Broken

Broken

By pete marshall

Homes that are silent apart from a tick

the creak of the pipes and the hum of a fridge

the hub of a kitchen now cordoned with tape

a house that lays dormant alone and awake

A path that lies beaten , a broken front door

the smell of the damp and the chill of the floor

and breath that sits heavy upon a cold face

the coals in the shed and the ash in the grate

The rooms that are empty and a bed that is cold

the sheets that are soiled and the truths that are told

and skies that are angry from tempers that flare

the shouts in the house from the souls that lay bare

The stains on the walls are the strains of a fight

the sound of the heart that beats through the night

and the hub of a kitchen now cordoned with tape

a house that lays dormant alone and awake 

**********

Originally published at One Stop Poetry 4th September 2010

image courtesy commons flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/bored-now/ 

7:25 by pete marshall

7:25

by pete marshall

The 7:25 was always late

as heels would click upon the path

that led past booths and open gates

and gents would fold their Telegraphs

and brollies sold a blue chip name

as brogues would splash in puddled rain

for Mondays were a weekend draft

that blew through minds and rumbled past

The 7:25 was always late

as heels would rush and clatter by

in A line skirts with seams so straight

that caught a flash from anxious eyes

and some would take a last long drag

and girls would rummage through their bags

for Mondays were a weekend draft

that blew through days and rumbled past

The 7:25 was always late

as heels would scuff and take the strain

for office clocks would never wait

and empty desks would cause complain

as woollen suits brought heavy sweats

whilst being late showed no respect

for Mondays were a weekend draft

that blew through hopes and rumbled past

**************

Originally published at One Stop Poetry 28th August 2010

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

Tintagel - Birthplace of Arthur

by pete marshall

Perched high upon this jutting cliff

The flint felt hard upon my feet

I lay with lizards and basked in warmth

As waves rose high and swirled beneath

Across the bay the castle walls

That stand in time & in a time

Many have been and dabbled with myths

Whilst taking steps to do the climb

Below the surf strikes on the rocks

And hides the cave where magic lies

As people wait for seas to drift

And search for quartz beneath the tides

The rolling slopes and ragged crags

Engulf the isle that now lays calm

Where once was death and battles fought

And magic brought the golden one

My eyes search out the fabled tales

As colours blend upon this land

And birds that swoop in endless song

From grass & rock to sea & sand

Behind my back stands Barras Nose

Who’s clash is vain with battling seas

As heat comes down and warms my soul

I lower my head in prayer for thee

And those before and yet to come

Like beating drums within my mind

To find a place that brings you peace

Away from truths that take you home

*********

Originally published One Stop Poetry 21st August 2010

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

The Wreckers by pete marshall

The Wreckers 

by pete marshall

The bells would chime as lowered heads

would march in line to pay their debts

but coppers weighed on ravaged hands

as wolves would bay in greedy clans

And nights would close on darkened rooms

where paths were chose that led to doom

and on the beach from tunnels deep

the ships would breach as wreckers meet

Among the brine the cries of men

that took to crime to feed their bairns

whilst sailors drowned in torrid seas

and booty found beseeched by pleas

They climbed the rocks and journeyed home

as hope would mock their tired bones

but death would lay upon the cliffs

when state would claim their laden gifts

****************** 

originally published One Stop Poetry 14th August 2010

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

The Dawn Chorus

The Dawn Chorus

by pete marshall

I felt the chill upon my face

that urged my mind to open eyes

I heard the tune of morning song

as light would waken from the night

I heard the wind blow through the trees

as children stirred and stifled yawns

I smelt the bacons wafting scent

that welcomed in a summers dawn

The ground was wet with morning dew

that glistened on a fallen leaf

and as I cupped my steaming mug

the coffee found my lost belief

I looked out far across the fields

and watched the crows that ruled the sky

I watched you slice the crusty bread

and let the time just pass on by

I heard a noise that brought me joy

as children laughed from deep inside

beneath the quilts and sleeping bags

they  wiped the sleep from off their eyes 

I laughed at hair and ruffled clothes

that sat beside and watched the dawn

and though the chill would keep us cold

the taste of bacon kept us warm

************* 

originally published at One Stop Poetry 31st July 2010

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

Jack: A Poem from the Darkened Tales Series

Jack

by pete marshall

The sound of heel on cobbled stone

that stalked the streets of yesteryear

as sewage flowed with soiled dreams

Jack would walk bereft of fear.

His mind was caged and wrought with grief

as pain destroyed his inner eye

and cancers crept and clawed his soul

A lovers voice that hushed goodbye.

A nothing moon that held no light

on darkened paths and brick red walls

and staggered coves would leave their slums

to rest in doors amongst the gloom.

No bells would ring in East End homes

as night would fester cold and smog

and as his heels clicked on the stones

the hooves of carriages on would trot.

And on this night he saw her there

as charm would ‘tice a drunken Lord

who’s sword was stiff between her thighs

whilst shillings lined her wayward hoard.

But in the dark on hidden streets

the stench that reared on soiled paths

Jack lay down his leather bag

and drew the tools that played their part.

And as the Lord would hasten thrusts

her teeth bit deep on glistened vein

and then the whites within her eyes

would roll as blood was left to drain.

And as he pulsed between her legs

she drank the life he clung on to

but from the shadows Jack would walk

and drive his stake so hard and true.

The night was filled with eerie screams

as Lord fell hard and wrestled free

he turned and fled beyond the street

as Jack knelt down on bended knee

and with his skill he’d cut & slash

to take a heart of hardened stone

that led a path to darkened graves

for him to walk once more alone.

***************

originally published at One Stop Poetry on 2nd July 2010

Image courtesy of walraven @ flickr