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

***********

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

***********

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

For My Boy

For My Boy

My boy became a man today

as tears flowed down his youthful cheeks

and pain was felt within his heart

with strength he fought as armies meet.

And whence no more the battle came

he limped across the soaken’ field

as eyes would meet and mouth his name

and there was I to be his shield.

The skin was sore in blood soaked cloth

yet steel was born within his mind

despite the wound he carried on

and fought until the end of time.

*******

This poem is dedicated to my oldest son, who is 9. It simply is inspired by his braveness this Sunday, during a soccer match.

My boy played his heart out but came off in tears. The boots he was wearing where too small. He had outgrown them. He loved these boots but knowing how much they cost he kept this too himself because he didn't want us to have to worry about the money.

As he limped off the pitch, despite being man on the match and not letting his team mates down, he couldn't stop crying and that is when i found out. The back of his ankle had rubbed raw and was bleeding.

My boy grew up today, and my boy got his new boots.

*********

This is my poem for One shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry, which opens at 10pm UK (5pmEST).  A great platform for poets to share and promote their work

image courtesy creative commons flickr http://farm1.static.flickr.com/95/217725023_b4e6827028_m.jpg

Unknown

Unknown

by Pete Marshall

We walked along the beach today;

the waves lay calm and lapped the shore

but joys were gone for little ones

who traipsed to school  just like before

their dreams had come and warmed our home

where fire hearths had gently glowed

and song was sung and peace was known

but now its gone, we’re home, alone.

We took the tree down today;

as winds blew forth through open doors

that brought the angel to the floor

with sparkles boxed and stored once more.

I shed my first tears today;

as letters fell through broken doors

that crept like claws through darkened jaws 

and laid upon an unswept floor.

I went to bed today;

and pulled the covers close & tight

and waited for the little ones

to come once more and bring forth light

that’s left this house we still call home

where fires died and never glow

no songs are sung now peace has flown

and Christmas next, at home, unknown.

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

Today my children went back to school, we took the decorations down and said goodbye to Christmas. Yet still I remain unemployed...and wonder whether this Christmas will be the last in our home!

This poem is for One Shot Wednesday, at One Stop Poetry, which opens 10pm UK time tonight.

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

My Coney Island Baby

My Coney Island Baby

Hedonistic summer dreams 

within this sandscape world

Crazy Feeling's rising high

and tricks with Charley's Girl

Parasols that hide our shame

for She’s My Best Friend’s pearl

sequinned lace, her painted face

and Kicks that made us whirl

His Gift was she or maybe me

Oooohhh Baby take this pain

in summers heat where lovers meet

they play their heady games

Nobodys Business on this beach

androgynous dreams were maybe

A fluttered fan, a soft held hand

my Coney Island Baby…….

**********

The wonderful image is taken by Danielle Kelly and simply titled "Coney Island". It is featured today on One Shoot Sunday, part of One Stop Poetry, and forms their picture prompt. Check out the amazing interview with Danielle Kelly whilst you are there too.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year to everyone of you that has read, commented and offered so many words of encouragement this year...thank you....see you in 2011........Pete

A New Years Wish

A New Years Wish

From all around the usual cries

as revellers stop the passers-by

who hug and cheer and welcome in

A Year to come of hopeful things

but jingle left on Christmas Eve

and sparkle fled on Boxing Day

the sales were blown as greed crept in

whilst those without just watched and prayed

I blew across my fingertips

as icy breath hung in the air

and felt the chill of empty dreams

as lights would flash to sell their wares

The hugs are false as knives are drawn

and dreams are dashed in mornings dawn

whilst goods that sit upon the shelves

reduced as gifts for those with wealth

when pints are downed we venture forth

to hear the joys of New Years Eve

from drunken folk on cobbled paths

who piss on walls and vomit dreams

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

This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, part of One Stop Poetry, a great place to share your poetry, a platform to be recognised..

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

Christmas Past.....

Christmas Past...

Snow and frost and hardened ground

where spades would strike no earth was found

the morgues would fill with silent sounds

that held the dead from journeys bound

The last I saw were tired eyes

that spoke of death and long goodbyes

and heavy chests and louder sighs

grasping hands and mothers cries

And Christmas Day was wrought with tears

amongst the gifts lay scattered years

the empty chair were once he cheered 

and bottles full of unused beer

But days do pass and time does heal

as Christmas joy belies the chill

with candles lit we mourn the still

and say our prayers for all who’s ill

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

Christmas is not just a time for children and celebration but also for reflection and remembering. Christmas is always tinged with sadness as we remember those that have gone. The empty chair, the missing presence. 

We lost somebody very close to us just before Christmas a few years back, suicide was to take him, and I dont suppose my wife and I will ever forget. At this time of year when the snow is down and the ground is frozen, the funerals are always delayed as the earth is too hard for burials. The funeral is always a comforting closure to our grieving but as these are delayed so is the mourning. 

Its also at Christmas time when suicide rates steadily increase. If you were to take a walk down any street how many homes lay in the dark? As we all enjoy the festive season let us remember there will always be someone who's life is not want he or she perceived and is struggling on their own as others celebrate, and if we can, in any small part, help them in any way then let that be our gift this Christmas.

Lastly, for all of you have have taken the time to visit my site, read my poetry, share my work and support what I do. Who have offered words of comfort as I have struggled through being unemployed. Who tweet and make me smile, who encourage me with my work, and who have taken that support and followed me to One Stop Poetry...I would like to thank you all and wish the best of seasons greetings and a prosperous New Year!

all the best, and cheers, Pete

image courtesy creative commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/luchilu/2122762150/