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.

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

Ruined: A poem by pete marshall

Ruined

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.

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.

Pride by Pete Marshall

Pride

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

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

Sun, Sea & Sirens: A Poem by Pete Marshall

Sun, Sea & Sirens

by pete marshall

Her silken skin, a shoulder strap

slipped to show a hint of pink,

her thighs that sung a lilting tune

a sirens call where dreams would sink.

Too long I spent just looking past 

hidden from a shaded view,

where waters lapped a flowing beat

of dreams that floated on the blue.

Tousled thoughts & ruffled hair

beyond the beach her longing stare

behind the cool, abrasive wall

the lust of man, the wanting fool.

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

Today's One Shoot Sunday is a choice of 5 wonderful images by James Rainsford. I took option 5...

Love Thy Neighbour: A Poem by Pete Marshall

Love Thy Neighbour

by pete marshall

I stared behind a wooden fence

that hid my face from neighbours eyes,

where in my house my love was spent

as dreams would take me back outside.

I stared upon the gap between

that caught my eye, her whitened thighs,

I saw her jump and hoped the hem

would lift up high and gently rise.

A sultry voice and bright red shoes

that danced a beat of wicked lies,

a sirens call on errant runs

where love would hide & I’d oblige.

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

Today's wonderful image is by photographer Lauren Randolph, who's interview and picture prompt have formed this weeks One Shot Sunday, at One Stop Poetry

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

A One Stop Halloween Celebration

Visit One Stop Poetry this weekend for fun and frolics, scares and chills, as we celebrate Halloween