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/ 

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Where Mickey sat withdrawn, alone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

Cockle World: A Poem for my Daughter

Cockle World 

A Poem For My Daughter

Within her mind is Cockle world

that hides from truths in fluffy clouds,

with trees of pink and lilac hues,

orange streams and purple views.

Where Lep – Lep roams & rules her land,

fairies come & brothers banned!

Those large brown eyes tell stories too

the ones that love & listen through.

She never pauses or takes a breath,

she roars through life on urgent quests.

But do not think she doesn’t care,

beneath those clouds that crazy hair

is a heart that’s pure, that’s kind & true

that when you’re down will comfort you.

And don’t be fooled that she’s not there,

lost in the clouds above her hair,

for this ones mind is very bright

she’ll dig in deep, she’s always right!

Then back she goes to Cockle world

that hides from truths in fluffy clouds.

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

Brian Miller of One Stop Poetry is celebrating Spring today! 

Nothing reminds me more of spring than that of my daughter, and I couldn't resist surfacing an old poem that I wrote about her quite a way back. When we moved into our house the backyard was just that, a concrete hell. I began to dig it up, clear it out, bring in flowers & shrubs, lay a lawn. The following spring was when our yard became a garden, and that was when our daughter was born too. Now every spring, as the flowers bloom and the sun shines we celebrate not just spring but our daughters birthday too.

***********

Whilst posting this also gives me a chance to revisit the comments that I made about Blogging & commenting earlier this week, after my poem, Alas, for One Shot Wednesday.

The point I so tried to make was I didn't want people to feel they needed to comment on me, just comment because they want to. I also wanted people to understand that I knew how hard it is to try and comment on everyone's work and through my honesty I was hoping that I could give reassurance to those of you that struggled.

This week I read every single poem of One Shot Wednesday, yet only commented on a handful. I managed to do this because I didn't have to write a comment at the end of each, and by doing so I was able to savour and enjoy the poetry that much more.

The thing is though, after having left my views, one kind friend pointed something out to me that I hadn't taken in to account. I wont mention who she is, I will spare her blushes, but she made a very valid point that I had never realised. You see she said that what I was trying to convey may well have been misconstrued and read that I may be saying "I have no time for others poetry!" I was aghast at this, as she knew I would be. I hadn't realised that my  comment on another's poem was a comment that was seen as encouragement. The thing is I just see myself as a Blogger sharing his work.

I do read so much poetry and yes it is hard to comment on everyone's work, but I also understand what my friend was conveying and take her wise comments on board too.

Thanks for listening.........Pete

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