Broken: A Poem By Pete Marshall

please visit my new poem at One Stop Poetry

Broken

The Thinker…(A Tale In 160 Characters)

for my new tale in 160 characters

The Thinker

Drive By Dreams & Seaside Themes

Drive By Dreams & Seaside Themes.

A British Seaside Town…the reality today just aint cute…my reflection

My New Poem The Grove Is Exclusive On We Like To Write

The Grove: A Poem Dedicated To A Street Near You.

The Grove – This is my new poem which I have put out exclusive in the magazine We Like To Write. This site is dedicated to writers of which I have become a founding premium member. Please view my poem & come and join me on this brave new adventure…I look forward to seeing you there……thanks as always for your support

The Journey Home

Beyond I see a clear warm day

That wraps its arms and pulls me close

And as my hand is held aloft

I shield the sun from squinting eyes

I searched for ships with laden things

That rode the tide and anchored home

And saw them row as muscles strained

Upon the waves that splashed their bow

–

The sun bore down on beaten backs

That carried scars of tortured souls

But as we worked in peace as one

We felt the pain of callused palms

And from the boat I gently slipped

Awash with hope and soaked with swell

To stop the clocks that marked decline

In mists that soaked the sands of time

–

My senses filled and took me back

On trips that brought me to this door

I watched you sit upon the stair

And wipe the tears that came afore

–

I took a breath and stepped inside

To see the place that once was home

And smelt the air of long gone dreams

That left in haste as fledglings roam

I saw the stairs I’d often climb

That led me to my place of sleep

Where here I planned my future life

But rushed to quick to see the sea

–

Yet twenty years or more have passed

And still you live inside your shell

O’ how I yearn to be that child

Inside my bed when all was well

But like the sea that drifts & splays

I rode the crest of rushing waves

And sands of time can only stop

When crushed beneath their broken clock……………….

Journeys End?

This was the blog I didn’t want to write…..

Having left you all with renewed hope & optimism after our short break, I really didn’t want to come back and report doom & gloom. Thing is when you have too much time at hand your thoughts began to wander & fester & grow deeper…………….

It started well, with a renewed zest, I set out afresh, emailing & telephoning agencies, searching for work on the internet, sending  out CV’s, but still no joy. The problem you see is I am up against far too many others with qualifications that blow mine away!

So I sit at home, on the computer, searching & hoping for something to materialise. Trying to find ways to earn some money, which is why I put out so many article on Triond, hoping that at least this might take off!

But the thing is, I am scared, scared of going back & scared of going forward…..

What will life hold for me? As long as I am off I am not securing a future for my family. The mortgage is on interest only so I am not repaying it. But what do I do? I owe it to my family to earn an income, but the job I was doing meant 12 hours a day plus. To earn a salary that I was earning I will have to go back to this & this is what I am scared of!

Being unemployed has helped me find a person I thought had long died & now he is awakening & I don’t want to lose that. I am most certainly at a crossroads & as I think & let my mind wander I grow deeper in doubt about what it is I can now do?

Writing wont bring me a fortune, no publisher is knocking on my door, Triond wont help, so what am I, what is left?

This is the blog I didn’t want to write but I have & it hasn’t helped.

My following poem is really a reflection of my inner thoughts at this stage, its deep, it ponders but it doesn’t answer, it just dwells……………..

Journeys End?

I struggled down a beaten coast

Whilst wind & rain besieged my mind

Yet through the clouds the sun would shine

A glimpse of hope for outstretched hands.

I pray for times to clear themselves

When thoughts are free from troubled woes

But as I feel a change in wind

My journey’s cut in staggered throes.

–

And as my love holds on so tight

To dreams of age that bring a smile

The fear of now that grips my mind

Is beat & broke amidst denial.

I felt the wind cut through my bones

As rain soaks through my weathered coat

And storms ahead have gathered strength

That threaten tiles upon my home.

–

I rush inside to flee the rain

To face a mirror standing proud

I glimpse to look within the glass

Yet see the pain upon my frown.

I spite the truth so buried deep

That cuts the mote beyond my gaze

As fears are fought in battles lost

Whilst punished times will always stain…….

Maybe I think too much, maybe I dream too much? Maybe I just want more than I am capable of & havent, as yet, accepted that I’m not as good as I thought? Or maybe I have & knowing that I’m not is what scares me?

Without belief we are nothing. this is the blog I didn’t want to write………………………………..

Reflection

In youth I’ve glimpsed

But with age comes constraint

Days disappear as I stay in time.

Yesterday I played

Outside with my friends

Today they are gone,

Dead, alone….

__

A black mist swirls

And tempts my anger.

A bloody heart squeezed

Tight in my fist.

An unquenchable thirst

A desire to lust

To be free to enjoy

To taste the delights…..

__

But then I play,

Its yesterday,

Outside in the yard

With my friends……

The Old Church Hall

The Old Church Hall

Where once we prayed

Now stands as flats

And concrete graves

And on the green

Where once we swayed

The trumpets blew

As bandstands played

__

Now scorched & broke

And tagged by youths

At night they come

In hooded groups

And thirteen years

For some is old

Who’ve sold their life’s

For alcohol

__

And older boys

With acne face

That fumble girls

Where once was grace

And bursting sacks

That strewn the place

And hardened boys

That court disgrace

__

And in the bushes

Amongst the shrubs

These children laugh

Where once were cubs

That used to meet

In the Old Church Hall

Where Akela’s spell

Would capture all……………

HMS Leigh

If only for peace his swan song sighed

Amidst the gallant yet frightened few

With weary bones a heavy heart

Beat might when spied the resilient wharf

For ships who berthed they uttered words

In thanks for land upon this sea

As storms would rage to shatter strengths

In triumph our pier had welcomed thee.

___

Like those who’d trod its solid beams

And left these shores to honour King

Behind them stood our naval borough

Whose people echoed valiant deeds.

For ships that harboured off our shores

And streets of London prayed for calm

Forget we not our honoured task

To protect this land in air & sea.

The Park

It’s funny how a bit of sunshine can bring a smile to your face. As spring warms the day suddenly the sound of children laughing & playing fills the air. Days like this are special, out come the bikes & off we go, a family as one, to the park. 

It’s also strange that as you let your mind drift & wander whilst lounging on the fresh mown grass you start to notice the difference between the haves & have not’s. When money & work was in abundance you took it for granted but now, no matter where you are & what you do, you cant help but notice it, the little things in people’s behaviour. You start to ask, who is more hard up, the person without work whose children are free to play without constraint or the person that’s trying to keep up the appearances of success? 

It was on a day like this when I wrote the following poem, The Park; 

The Park 

Ahead I see The Avenue 

Awash with trees & fiscal cool 

That slopes on down to drifting seas 

Beyond the park & buzzing scenes. 

On bright warm days & cloudless skies 

The park is filled with cheerful cries 

And adults play their willowed game 

As ball hits bat in Graces name. 

A family gathers amongst the shade 

Out comes food & lemonade 

A ball is kicked by budding stars 

The sound of skates upon the path. 

– 

Where children see their school time friends 

And parents form their social trends 

An ice cream melts in gentle hands 

And stains the dress bought on the Strand. 

A child falls & rips his jeans 

His tears are real for precious things 

And parents scold whilst others tut 

The price of fun is far too much! 

– 

But in the fields where lepers play 

That come from streets along the way 

Where kids run free in nothing clothes 

As parents meet & boundaries grow. 

Bonds are made and friendships set 

Ice-creams bought but not in debt 

Whilst those that sit in higher fields 

Prevent their young from social ills 

And look out on The Avenue 

Awash with cash & solitude 

That slopes on down invitingly 

Beyond the park & home for tea. 

  

  

Finding work suitable for my skills has been slow & coupled with rejections when you do find something this can be a bitter blow. Sometimes you need days when the sun shines & the kids are at home so you can escape, just for a while, and let your mind rest…………………………