Winters Blues by pete marshall

Winters Blues

by pete marshall

Leaves still cling upon the trees

as cloudless skies embellish rays

of sun that hovers low beneath

the Winter blues that shorten days

Breath encircles worried minds

that hang from spiders silken threads

that shimmer bright in morning light

yet in the shadows harbours death

Damp that settles on the ground

where grass & weeds are mulched as one

that sees the snakes go slither by

whilst Summers work is left undone

A child’s bike lays on its side

left alone to play no more

its wheels entwined with Winters grief

abandoned, broke, upon the floor

A veil is drawn passed waiting eyes

that looked beyond these changing times

where man once walked the beat of life

yet turned his back, we missed the signs

Where hope is lost to those that deem

when Winters wrath sunk Autumn dreams

and storms have battered withered souls

who slip from life before they go……

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Elements in the news this week rekindled the pain of losing someone close. Depression is an illness, something that should never be taken lightly, something that is very close to my heart.

waves by pete marshall

Waves

by pete marshall

I saw you look across the bay,

A distant mast, the raging waves

Your ocean gaze that never strayed,

A recent past, the taste of spray

The brine upon a twisted lip,

A bitter taste, a sunken ship

A Wind that blew through auburn hair,

A tidal swirl, a silent stare

I saw a tear caress your face,

A smudge of kohl, a yearned embrace

A storm that blew and tossed the waves,

where love now lies in watered graves

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Been a while since I have written but a yearning grabbed me today resulting in this. I hope that yearning stays!

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

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

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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/

Mr Plush: A Poem That Tells The Tale Of A Bear

Mr Plush

Mr Plush to some is cute

Cuddly, warm, a soft brown suit

With button eyes and patched up nose

Sentiments bought from long ago

Mr Plush sits in his chair

And rocks the rooms foreboding air

His hands tight clasped with eyes of steel

That scream in silence with foul ill will

Mr Plush first built his pile

When played a hand at Falstaff’s trial

He lines his pot and builds his walls

And loves to see how others fall

Mr Plush sits on a chair

Loved by all with cuddles & care

Mr Plush looks down his nose

And hoards the cash that sentiment flows

Mr Plush once had it all

Friends that came to summer balls

But Mr Plush is now threadbare

All have gone & no one cares

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image creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/31007239@N06/

The Grove: A Poem Dedicated To A Street Near You - From The Poems That Stand Alone And Stand Proud Collection

These streets that I walk down`
I know them so well
I’ve lived on these footpaths
And tasted their hell

Behind twitching curtains
And dog soiled paths
A mattress that's dumped
Stained with memories and laughs.

And kids wearing hoods
That cover their eyes
Hands in both pockets
But empty of life.

Amid sacks of rubbish
Where innocents play
Drowned by the noise
From vehicles all day

Mornings bring laughter
As school runs begin
Slapped made-up faces
Hide desperate things.
Billowing smoke
From the mums pushing prams
Throwing their smiles
With a fake golden tan.

And shouts heard from windows
Of partners in fight
Bereft of their boundaries
It goes on through the night.
Yet birds will keep singing
And cars drive on past
These streets that I walk down
And their dog soiled paths.

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