My Heart Not Knows: by Pete Marshall

My Heart Not Knows

by Pete Marshall

My heart not knows where love will lie

Upon a cursed & ravaged bed

And storms will rage in darkened skies

My heart not knows where love will lie

No longer touched by waking eyes

A love is spurned as words are said

My heart not knows where love will lie

Upon a cursed & ravaged bed

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Its Triolet Day at One Stop Poetry, hosed by Shan Hendry. This is my attempt at tackling this form.

A Stranger Within: A Poem By Pete Marshall

A Stranger Within

by Pete Marshall

What lies within a secret mind

That bars itself from all who know

Its shuttered depths and hidden doors

And keys that only one can stow?

When left to think what does he know

When doors are locked and left alone

And pleasures felt from tip to toe

And hope that comes with dreams that go?

What lies within his deepest thoughts

That keep themselves so far away

Is he the man you know and love

Or is there more he wants to say?

What yearns inside a twisted mind

That aches for times when fun was quick

That hides himself as walls collapse

And plays his hand at dirty tricks?

What lies within a blackened heart

That wants you dead but loves you so

That licks the lips of gluttony

And wants for kicks you’ll never know?

So do you know the one you love

That sits beside and holds you tight

That gives you hugs and shows you love

Then walks the streets alone at night?

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing site dedicated to poets & writers of all genres.

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

Amen: My Poem for One Stop Poetry

AMEN

Please join me today at One Stop Poetry for my poem Amen

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A Fall From Grace: A Poem By Pete Marshall

A Fall From Grace

A Poem by Pete Marshall

The swings were still on Sabbath day

with padlocks clasped across the chains

as Father stood on lectern high

he mocked the weaks enduring pain

Whilst in the pew you sat so still

in clothes that covered teenage pride

ensnared by light that shimmered down

and framed your soul in celluloid

The numbered psalm was 23

that spoke of paths of righteousness

but boys would look and make you want

to raise the hem upon your dress

And temperance spied a whisky glass

as sweats would trickle from your brow

you plucked an apple from the tree

as weakness broke your solemn vow

Yet Father watched you from up high

in spittled rants and raging tongue

he laid the ghost upon your soul

and warned the Lord of what you’ve come

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

image courtesy creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/buzzby09/

7:25 - A Poem by Pete Marshall

Please join me at One Stop Poetry to read my latest poem

7:25

A Poem By Pete Marshall

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

Late Night Shopping: A Poem by Pete Marshall

Late Night Shopping:

 A Poem by Pete Marshall

Spirits gathered by the tills

as grey would colour cheap no frills

that stood in rows across the bay

mixed with juice and lemonade

that sat within a barge of steel

its frame was meshed, a squeaky wheel

would pause as chills would circle feet

in frozen foods our eyes would meet.

She touched her hair as mags suggest

showed signs she liked or so I’ve read

but eyes looked down on frozen peas

whilst I stood tall and hoped she’d see

the bogof sale that lined the shelves

her hair was red and loosely curled

and eyes that told a tale or two

were dressed for bed in midnight queues.

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

image courtesy creative commoms http://www.flickr.com/photos/kallao/

The Thinker....(A Tale in 160 Characters)

The Thinker....

(A Tale in 160 Characters)

What thoughts can lurk within great minds

That brood on life whilst watching worlds

From depths the springs of life unwind

From heights you feel your doubts unfurl

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For more marvellous tales in 160 characters visit monkeyman

The Waiting Room: A Poem By Pete Marshall

The Waiting Room:

A Poem By Pete Marshall

I sat within a crowded room

awash with sounds of Monday gloom

and watched the clock

and wished each hand

would reach on down

and strike the damned.

People stared and others yawned

the clock would tick for those unborn

and watch the rain

on sun soaked streets

A rainbows arch

was incomplete.

A handkerchief would catch a sneeze

A bulbous face, a heavy wheeze

and death would sit

beside my chair

texting friends

polluting air.

City gent would read the news

as others read back dated views

the door burst forth

the silence wrenched

kids poured in

with clothes all drenched.

Eyes would stare but look straight down

coughs were heard and others frowned

then right behind

A mermaid swam

hushing kids

 and pushing pram.

And through my aches my manners gave

I smiled in warmth and offered shade

she took my seat

her baby screamed

she looked so sad

alone in dreams.

Then as she spoke in softened tones

my name was called, its time to go..

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

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

The Dance of the Masquerade....(A Tale In 160 Characters)

The Dance of the Masquerade...

(A Tale In 160 Characters) By Pete Marshall

Oh how the joys of youth would cry

Whilst mouths were fed their veins ran dry

With those that joined this masquerade

They’d dance through realms their masters made

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Couldn't resist it, an ode to vampires & all things Poe! Hope you enjoyed my 160?

For more marvellous tales in 160 characters visit monkeyman

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

The Wreckers: My Exclusive Poem For One Stop Poetry

The Wreckers: My Exclusive Poem For One Stop Poetry

Please visit One Stop Poetry to read my piece, The Wreckers. This piece came about by the thought of how far you would go to feed your family when faced by mounting debts and hard times? Being unemployed this is a thought that is constantly on my mind, but then I thought back to a time so much different to the one we live in today but when these problems were just as rife!

The Wreckers tells a tale of a village whose men were to pay the ultimate price.

If being unemployed has affected you in anyway, if you would like to share your thoughts, enter into a discussion etc. please feel free to comment. Regards Pete

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The Lykewake Of Morag: A Poem By Pete Marshall

The Lykewake Of Morag: 

A Poem By Pete Marshall

The crows would circle high above

As death would waken on the ground

A hand would stretch and flick its claws

To trap the prey that swooped on down.

As feathers fell on sodden earth

And float as boats upon the breeze

Bones would crunch and blood would splay

That fed the Scarecrows dark disease.

The haar would creep along the links

As song was heard beyond the hill

The tabor marked the lykewake start

As clans would bow and mourn their still.

Upon the beach the waves would crash

And curse and spit their maddened angst

The mortcloth lay across her soul

As friends would come and offer thanks.

Through wynd and vennel souls would part

As spirits fled the darkened streets

The Scarecrow watched in silent thought

Whilst winds would blow through mans deceit.

And dirks were drawn at Morag’s hame

As Chiefs would curse their spoken vow

Blades would clash and wounds were deep 

But one remained to tell this tale…….

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

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Image courtesy creative commons flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/artbel/

Hopes And Dreams: A Poem By Pete Marshall

Hopes And Dreams: 

A Poem By Pete Marshall

Silence views a numbered face

its tick a steady, constant pace

disturbed by shouts & breaking glass

doors are slammed on parking cars

and parent frets alone in bed

whilst vodka fuels a gangland debt

an acned face that puffs on bob

and work is just a sign-on job

who meets his mates in cycle P

then sits and stares at soap filled screens.

Single mum will bring him chips

then out to screw some local chicks

that pride themselves in nothing skirts

who eye the metro-sexual shirts

then up against abrasive walls

that rub the backs of hardened fools

who’s future lies in wasteland dreams

and bass that pumps from flash machines

that burn on hopes of fast earned cash

and live the life’s of spoiled WAGS

whilst mum still sits alone and frets

her lonely life of drunk regrets.

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

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

The Dawn Chorus: A Poem By Pete Marshall

The Dawn Chorus: 

A Poem By Pete Marshall

Having returned from a fabulous weeks camping with my family, I celebrated my return with a poem, The Dawn Chorus, at One Stop Poetry. If you haven't read this already please visit. Cheers and good life to all, Pete

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The River Runs Wild...(A Tale In 160 Characters)

The River Runs Wild...

(A Tale In 160 Characters) 

By Pete Marshall

The current flowed beyond the rocks

Where fish would dart and children stopped

And mothers would grieve on Parson's Lawn

As waters still flowed from dusk till dawn

for more tales in 160 visit monkeyman

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Alone In Her Dreams: A Poem Of Love Unknown

Alone in Her Dreams: 
A Poem Of love Unknown

Silently she sleeps alone in her dreams,

is it here I exist or am I a myth?

Illusions are real as I lay by her side

yet tonight I felt lost, those fires have died.

The room where we loved no longer feels warm,

our once flowering bed now ravaged by thorns,

my head lays in nettles my limbs upon weeds

and still she sleeps alone in her dreams.

                           

I watch her breathe, she murmurs she moans,

there are two in this bed but one is alone.

Her mind is her secret kept hidden from me,

her words are like legends in stories she weaves,

but words are not spoken when love is not real,

truths are kept secret and never revealed.

A tear gently forms to run down my cheek

yet still she sleeps alone in her dreams.

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

The Piper: A Poem That Tells The Tale Of Hamelin

The Piper: A Poem That Tells The Tale Of Hamelin

From out of shadows crept the night

that forced its will upon the streets

as voices drifted on the breeze

A swing would rock an empty seat

A buxom girl in loosened clothes

laughed as hands would paw her breasts

and as they fell on cobbled stones

he rummaged mongst her ruffled dress

Behind the doors the weak would pray

as children slept in hallowed rooms

and voices soothed and whispered psalms

as piper played his lilting tune

the rats would gather from the drains

and twitch their snouts at blackened fayre

but piper passed their gathering throng

and played a song that filed the air

doors were closed and bolted tight

and lovers fled to darkened homes

but children stirred and crept to see

from where the tune would gently flow

And from the windows out they climbed

as beds were left all soft and warm

they followed him beyond the bridge

and out of town and in to dawn

the wails were heard as mothers cried

at rooms where souls no longer slept

the village grieved the rats still played

as Hamelin cleared its final debt

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This piece is also featured in One Shot Wednesday, a new gathering place for poets & writers to showcase their talents

image creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/roberts87/