The Gathering by pete marshall

The Gathering

by pete marshall

As mice ran forth across the floor

from open boards, through rotting doors

where damp would crawl and spread upon

beyond the course the plaster blown

and sweats that chill the very skin

would soak the sheets of darkened dreams

hope would see the morning in

yet droppings lay by ravaged bins

amongst the crumbs of sweetened things

& faeces shared from deep within

upon the floor, across the beams

for hours count the gathering

Outside the mist a swirling screen

that creeps along and slips between

the leaves that fall from autumn trees

the taste of salt from off the sea

and sweats that chill the very skin

would soak the sheets of darkened dreams

hope would see the morning in

from out their nests they rode the wind

the rooks would kaah whilst circling

then swoop upon the menacing

across the paths and dew soaked green

for hours count the gathering

Within a damp and blackened cask

a heart would beat behind a mask

where eyes are wide & pained with fright

beneath the earth this fearful night

and sweats that chill the very skin

would soak the sheets of darkened dreams

hope would see the morning in

upon the boards you scratch & scream

your nails are spent and blistering

the blood is rushing from within

cries are echoes for your sins

for hours count the gathering

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A new Darkened Tale

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

Trick or Treat: A Poem About Halloween by Pete Marshall

Trick or Treat!

The clouds would float across the moon

upon a breeze that blew so cold

a howl was heard from distant shores

and clocks would tick for stories told.

A scratch upon a pane of glass

that sent a tingle down your spine

a blanket pulled up close and tight

the hour struck as bells would chime.

And in the road a car would pass

to circle round the neighbourhood

you sat alone and watched the time

as Michael preyed on all that’s good.

The creak of pipes and chilling air

and flickered light from TV glare

a child’s laugh, a withered stare

impaled your mind, alone and scared.

You heard the gate that creaked at night

but never feared its eerie squeak

the footsteps trod on gravelled paths

and knocked on doors for trick or treat.

The lanterns glow shone through the glass

as shadows loomed upon the drive

you felt the hairs stand on your back

as life would flash before your eyes.

And as the door was gently pulled

a face grotesque would stare askew

his mask that came from silver screens

would hold a bucket out for you!

**********

Halloween is fast approaching which gives me the chance to celebrate! Join Dustus & I this weekend as the mischief takes over at One Stop Poetry!

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?

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

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/

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…….

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

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/artbel/

Jack: A Poem From The Darkened Tales Series That Tells The Real Story Of Jack The Ripper

Jack: A Poem From The Darkened Tales Series That Tells The Real Story Of Jack The Ripper

The sound of heel on cobbled stone

That stalked the streets of yesteryear

As sewage flowed with soiled dreams

Jack would walk bereft of fear

His mind was caged and wrought with grief

As pain destroyed his inner eye

And cancers crept and clawed his soul

A lovers voice that hushed goodbye

A nothing moon that held no light

On darkened paths and brick red walls

And staggered coves would leave their slums

To rest in doors amongst the gloom

No bells would ring in East End homes

As night would fester cold and smog

And as his heels clicked on the stones

The hooves of carriages would trot

And on this night he saw her there

As charm would ‘tice a drunken Lord

Who’s sword was stiff between her thighs

Whilst shillings lined her wayward hoard

But in the dark on hidden streets

The stench that reared on soiled paths

Jack lay down his leather bag

And drew the tools that played their part

And as the Lord would hasten thrusts

Her teeth bit deep on glistened vein

And then the whites within her eyes

Would roll as blood was left to drain

And as he pulsed between her legs

She drank the life he clung on to

But from the shadows Jack would walk

And drive his stake so hard and true

The night was filled with eerie screams

As Lord fell hard and wrestled free

He turned and fled beyond the street

As Jack knelt down on bended knee

And with his skill he’d cut & slash

To take a heart of hardened stone

That led a path to darkened graves

For him to walk once more alone

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Image courtesy of walraven @ flickr

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The Scarecrow & The Cougar: Poetry From The Darkened Tales Series

When Van Gogh drew across the sky
He circled stars & captured life
And silver birches shimmer bright
Reflecting moons ensnaring light.
As dreams were told in epitaphs
He stayed beside her fresh warm grave
And clawed the earth with sharpened nails
Afraid to leave this sullen place.
But Jackal growled and sniffed the air
As blood & lust kept dreams alive
And as the yews would sway and dance
He turned his head in search of vice. 

The copper trees have withered stumps
And elms no longer roam the fields
The hedgerows choke on passing fumes
As Jackal preys upon our ills.

And fired light & candles burned
That glowed a hearth of hardened stone
A tingled air & painted lips
Awaited him in cougars home.
He wrestled thoughts from sunken minds
That stained the brains of self neglect
As smoke encircled doubts unwind
Where gin is poured with no respect.
And ragged jeans are ragged things
That hang upon a scarecrows legs
And as a crow would take a perch
He turned his head & snapped its neck.

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image used creative commons flickr gforster67