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/ 

Removed by pete marshall

Removed

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

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Where Mickey sat withdrawn, alone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

High Street Blues: by Pete Marshall

High Street Blues

By Pete Marshall

A lonely man upon a bench

with rolls that spilled from out each side

he must have been, what - 60 plus?

but high street blues had passed him by.

And shouts were heard from teenage gangs

who jostled chips and KFC

whilst girls would egg and push them on

then tease them with virginity.

Some kids would laugh by sequined dolls

in stockinged thighs and see through tops,

and next door folk would come and go

with bucket grub from burger shops.

Beneath the bridge the busker sang

where once the pigeons played their games

as mothers pushed their laden prams

and passed his cap of measly gain.

The rows of shops no longer seen

for coffee bars and fast food dreams

and Bank’s & Cash for precious things,

or pawn that sits where hope has been.

A family pushed and rushed on past

in clothes that once would fit them proud,

where goods are bought too quick and cheap

but never last beyond the sales.

Around the square that marks the end

A man would preach of Lord & God

His voice would sell a damning world

yet, troubled souls would laugh & mock.

And boards were placed on shattered glass

where fights had spilled the night before

when high street blues would come alive

to late night drinks and booze fuelled wars.

***********

I was walking down my local high street this weekend and my mind drifted to how things had changed, even in my life time...heck they have an Ann Summers shop next door to a KFC!

This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, hosted this week by Adam Dustus. A great platform to share your work, opens at 10pm UK time

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 http://farm1.static.flickr.com/95/217725023_b4e6827028_m.jpg

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

********

For more marvellous tales in 160 characters visit monkeyman

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