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

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. 

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/ 

What Lay Before by pete marshall

What Lay Before?

by pete marshall

They hopped along this sacred earth

where bones would lay in open graves

picked the worms from rotting leaves

that turn to mulch and then decay

A flap of wings upon a gust

would settle forth within the trees

perched on high to spy the world

tears would flow as all would grieve

Feather’s fell from high above

floating past an open view

they sat upon a window ledge

where dolls would play in solitude

Bars align this sheltered space

hardened steel surrounds the home

boards are trod by strangers who

remove the tiles where magpies roam

Two would sit upon the slate

beneath where dreams of hope now fade

rock is dropped to crash and break

upon the path where gold once lay

***********

Ever wondered What Lay Before? My home has a history and the land is stands on can tell even older tales. 

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

In Justice

In Justice

by pete marshall

Cobbled stones that lead unto

a granite wall & iron rails,

death would walk 'mongst weeping cries

beyond the gates of Bodmin gaol.

A smile that pulls past ragged teeth

bestows a child with ashen hair

who walks past rows of sullen homes,

dampened cells & stifled air.

Rights are called on bastard thieves

who stole a hunk from bakers fayre.

Alone she sat beyond reproach

yet fairies brought her food to share.

For troubled times begin to brew

as torches burn in hate filled streets,

the hangman bows upon a door

that opens forth past 13 feet.

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

Having just returned from visiting so many wonderful sites in Cornwall, this poem has been inspired after my first ever visit to Bodmin Gaol, and perhaps the troubled times we are currently envisaging.

This is  also shared with Dverse

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

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.

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

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/

Taken: By Pete Marshall

Taken

by pete marshall

Dolores smiled and held my hand,

her touch was soft upon my skin,

her lips were full upon my nape,

her thighs were warm and welcoming.

I felt a breath that chilled my skin

then crept along each vertebrae.

I closed my eyes and saw the joy

of devils dancing on my grave.

As willows hung above the stream

the winds would blow and gently sway,

the cry of lambs within the fields

as wolves would circle in the fray.

The pulse that beat within my mind

that flowed on through my poisoned veins,

the joy's I felt within your arms

upon your bed where dreams are made.

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

Today I bring you a new Darkened Tale, an offering for One Shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry.

If you like this and would like to read more of Dolores and the Darkened Tales visit, The Darkened Tales Collection


Not often I get to brag but have you seen this interview? The River Paper started last week and featured me...nice to get a mention once in a while, go to the following link, The River Paper

Cant believe I have written two poems this week! This is now my third week of work and its strange coming to terms with the change. The good news is I am writing  & now hopefully I will also start reading more again.

image creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/amanky/

Storm by Pete Marshall

Storm

by pete marshall

As darkened skies begin to close

storms have gathered in the bay,

 winds that whip, that swirl & sway,

boats that rock upon the waves.

I felt like shit upon the pier,

my hate would spill from deep inside

to spew out forth on your denial

where dreams were thrust through ones desire.

You bitch, you whore, you brazen slut

that played my cock and left me sore,

and licked those lips where once I spent

just left me quivering on the floor.

The gulls have flown as waves still rise,

the cracks, the roar within the skies,

 pain that grabs between my eyes,

dreams are hate I now despise.

Beneath the waves still crash and spray

as I would ride a freakin whore,

who knew the game, who screamed for more,

who stroked my arse to sell her cause.

The boats still float on ravaged seas

as lightening strikes a figure head,

a bolt is cast that strikes her face 

that leaves me short in angered breath.

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

I haven't been around lately, and life has had a few downs for me too! Today's poem is the first poem I have written since I last posted on my blog, about 3 weeks ago! Things haven't been too good on the unemployment front, everything is starting to catch up, not just the unsecured debts but also the mortgage! A long story that perhaps I will relate some other day.

Today's poem is an angry scream that spits venom at lady luck and the hand she has played.

Its also been a while since I have been involved in One Shot Wednesday, mainly because things had taken such a turn for the worse at home that I just could not face being involved.

All the best.....Pete

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

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

Back to Reality

Back to Reality

by pete marshall

The Drive was long but too much road

forced the eyes to stare ahead,

see not what the rear view found

but follow stars that shine instead,

and then the gas ran dry,

so I walked home,

but home was also dead.

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

This is my poem for oneshotwednesday, part of One Stop Poetry. Opens at 10pm tonight UK time

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

Chocolate

Chocolate

by pete marshall

I stole a chocolate from the box

that lay discarded on the side,

its sickly taste that pained the root

but warmed the guilt of wicked lies.

Nothing seemed to fill my mind

I stopped, I thought, I paused a while,

then time would drift to where you were,

as hands would search beneath the foil,

where warmth would feel the sticky goo

that oozed upon my lingering touch

and cling onto my fingertips,

your scent, a sin, a wanton lust.

I craved the taste of sugared lips

that felt so sweet upon my tongue,

I sucked the tips of mellow bliss

as you would melt & we came one.


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


Chocolate is my poem for the award winning One Stop Poetry where I will be your host for this weeks One Shot Wednesday. Opens tonight at 10pm UK, 5pm EST.