A Hidden Truth

A Hidden Truth

by Pete Marshall

A spider clung upon its web

and held onto its social thread

that snared the very soul of life

and danced and spoke of wanton vice

A cuckoo found another’s nest

and there she lay her precious egg

whilst others fed her growing brood

she thought not once of gratitude

A magpie spied a shining prize

and with her tricks and masked disguise

she sneaked on in through open doors

and there she scratched and there she clawed

A wolf would sniff and paw the ground

whilst others rushed and run around

and licked her lips at fat to chew

upon the backs of those she knew

A bat would suck the heart & soul

that gave all hope then let life go

where off she took into the night

to seek out more upon her flight

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A Hidden Truth is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry, a platform to help promote & share your poetry.

One Shot Wednesday opens every Tuesday evening at 5pm EST (10pm UK)..come and join in the fun

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

I was 10 in '77

I was 10 in ‘77

by Pete Marshall

I was 10 in ‘77

when first I felt the force

of hardened fists from wayward scum

that pinned me down in makeshift courts

I was 10 in ‘77

when first I heard an iron lung

that breathed in deep and rasped for breath

as grandpa’s life was finely hung

I was dead in ‘77

until they came and filled the screen

and gave me hope to live each day

amongst the stars and laser beams

I was 10 in ‘77

when  faith would come into my life

and gave me strength to fight the dark

that gripped my mind throughout the night

I was 10 in ‘77

the age my boy is now

when sci-fi scenes and school boy dreams

caused visual sensual wow

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This is my poem for the One Shoot Sunday picture prompt, image by JackAZ Photography

Wasted: A Poem by Pete Marshall

Wasted

by Pete Marshall

I lay upon a soaking sheet

as bile would spit and curse inside

and hope betrayed in loss fuelled sleep

as young would cry and seek the night

Where acid rose and tore through me

like fists that punched my very heart

that yearned for calm from troubled seas

to take my pain and soothe my fight

The days would merge through darkened gloom

with blinds drawn tight on littered rooms

where sleep would fall for weary heads

and life would stop the living dead

Your body lay so still yet burned

and roared the furnace in my soul

that raged upon my clammy flesh

and forced the sweat to ebb & flow

The chills would shake my tired bones

and light would hurt my aching eyes

where coughs & calls for mother’s love

would bring forth strength to hush their cries

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

The last 7 days have been hell! Sickness took hold of my household and laid each and everyone of us low. Last night I penned this verse as sickness was all that was on my mind.

I also share this poem with One Shot Wednesday, an amazing platform offered by One Stop Poetry for sharing your work

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

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

Within His Realm: A Poem by Pete Marshall

Within His Realm

a poem by Pete Marshall

H.G. Wells would sit upon

a swivel chair and ponder on

a World at War with Time Machines

where Halo Reached beyond his dreams.

And in the cellar far below

a Martian searched, an amber glow,

as rain would fall and wet the ground

revealing Man whose footsteps found

the Shape of Things within this barn

where years would pass and come to harm

and Sleepers Woke to tell their tales

as Orson spoke a Country wailed.

Whilst Man would walk upon the Moon

Begotten Stars saw purple blooms

which led to where the flowers grow

upon the isle of Dr Moreau

**********

This is my poem for One Shoot Sunday, at One Stop Poetry. The amazing image is taken by Sean McCormick, who has been featured today

A Shared Desire: Poetry from the Darkened Tales

A Shared Desire
Poetry from the Darkened Tales

A howl would carry on the wind

that whipped through bones, lay bare and broke,

where slumped against a concrete wall

lay worthless scum the Scarecrow choked.

Yet once this waste was mothers pride,

before a life of drink and dope,

and ravaged arms and needle marks

disguise where once lay parents hope.

The cards are often stacked against

and praise was ever rarely spoke,

he chewed the fat of life's mistakes

and left them there, these ravaged folk.

She lived through years, a lasting hope,

as times would change and battles fought

but always looked beyond her back 

for time was all her battles brought.

Her age would show within her eyes

as tears would flow and gently soak

and stain the flowing tapestry

where words were sewn and softly spoke.

She felt the warmth of raging flames

then slipped herself from out her cloak,

her body lithe upon the bed

awaiting Scarecrows fumbled grope.

The blood was caked upon his face

when joy would come and with him hope,

she held him close, her talisman,

as Cougar smiled her yearnings woke.


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This poem belongs to the Darkened Tales Series, and has also been shared with One Shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry, which opens tonight at 10pm UK time

If you haven't already, please also vote for One Stop Poetry in the Shorty Awards. There are two categories applicable, Art & Poetry, many thanks, Pete

image used creative commons flickr gforster67

Alone

Alone

No one seemed to smile today

upon their face a weary frown

with troubled eyes and heavy hearts

and souls that wandered through the town.

The rain had spat across my brow

and chills would mar my aching bones

inside I sat in warmth and prayed

but still no smiles were ever shown.

Yet hope was sought on flickered screens

in numbered doubts that troubled minds

a pen was held in front of me

to sign once more upon the line

and painted nails played QWERTY tricks

who's eye's would stare inside of me

beyond her gaze I saw the clouds

and hardened times on troubled streets.

No one seemed to smile today

so I took the car and drove away

I found a place to be alone

and watched the passing of the day.

I saw the birds all huddled tight

to ward the chill from causing ill's

and watched the cars just drive on past

yet no one smiled behind their wheel.

I saw the joggers running by

who breathed new life into their soul

and as their feet would pound the ground

the fear of loss would take its toll.

I saw the pain within your eye's

when I returned to be alone

I held you close to hide despair

the smile was gone no longer known.

***********

This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday...a fantastic platform organised by One Stop Poetry...opens tonight, and every Tuesday at 10pm UK Time

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

Broken Breakers

Broken Breakers

In line they stand so proud and tall

whilst comrades lie both beat & broke

and sunsets blur a weary sky 

as pebbles wait for tides to choke

the boats set sail on evening swell

that sweeps beyond the swollen creeks

and cast their nets with hope held high

yet on the shores a lover weeps

for three set sail just yesterday

yet two returned to share their hoard

amongst the rocks & cockleshells

lay those that left to meet their Lord

the tides have strength but lack in heart

and choose not man for all they see

but flesh upon a beaten soul

that takes the breath too easily

and then they drift and out they go

to leave once more a broken beach

the breakers stand a mournful still

to wait once more for tides to reach 

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

Today's poem for One Shot Wednesday, which opens at 10pm UK time tonight, has been inspired by the art work of my friend & local artist, Donna Cove, who, I am pleased to say, has finally set up a blog to showcase some of her work. This can be seen at coveart.wordpress.com

The Pulse

The Pulse

I count the beat within my head

you whisper words so soft and true

I feel the heat that warms our bed

The love that flows our passions fed

that makes me cling inside of you

I count the beat within my head

I feel you rush as love is spread

upon the throw you softly mew

I feel the heat that warms our bed

As love lays blind and hope lays dead

where now its just a wanton screw

I count the beat within my head

The crimson sheets where love has bled

the punctured vein the blood you drew

I feel the heat that warms our bed

Into the night this evil fled

to leave me here in solitude 

I count the beat within my head

I feel the heat that warms our bed

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this poem, The Pulse, is my first ever attempt at writing in the style, villanelle, which is being highlighted at One Stop Poetry. If you would like to know more about this style of writing please visit the following link;

Welcome to One Stop Poetry Form: Villanelle

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

Forever in Blue Jean's

Forever in Blue Jeans

Poverty pinched on denim jeans

that sat above her hard earned shoes 

and he’s the boy from up the hill

where social heights will sing the blues

She works the line from 9-5

whilst daddy pays his college fees

yet money’s tight and honey talks

and love is found  inside her jeans

He stole a kiss behind the shack

where beers will flow too easily

and spoilt kids with far too much

will take a hint of ecstasy

But love was found within the shade

where hearts would melt on shabby walls

and there they kissed in shadowed light

as denim jeans were lost with fools

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This is my poem for the One Shoot Sunday Picture Prompt. The amazing photograph has been taken by Katherine Forbes who's wonderful interview can also be read at One Stop Poetry