Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘John Marsh’ Category

  • A madman lives quite near to me.He shouts and rants and raves,

    And everybody fears him

    For the way that he behaves.

    With matted hair across his face,

    His filthy rags awry,

    A glint of madness in his eyes,

    He screams at passers by.

    He shouts that we are evil,

    That the end is drawing near,

    And women scoop their children up

    And hurry off in fear.

    He tells us we’re all murderers,

    Who constantly wage war

    And so many of our leaders

    Are just rotten to the core.

    With bulging eyes and foaming mouth

    He screams into the air

    That we’re drowning in corruption

    And yet no one seems to care.

    Then his screaming turns to sobbing

    And the tears run down his face

    And he rambles incoherently

    Of how men fell from grace.

    How the rich can dress in splendour

    While the poor remain unshod.

    How mankind has turned from heaven

    And now, Money is their god.

    Again, he turns to anger

    And his fists beat at the air,

    How half the world is starving

    And the other half don’t care.

    How man destroys the habitat

    Of everything that lives.

    ‘The parasite supreme’

    Who always takes, but never gives.

    …………………………..

    I sat and watched the news last night

    From North, East, South and West.

    I thought about the madman’s words

    And put them to the test.

    Now I worry for MY sanity,

    For in so many ways

    I’m starting to believe so much

    Of what the madman says.

    Copyright John Marsh 2012

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

From the day that we are born we’re encouraged to conform

And to grow up in the way that we’re expected.

So we don’t step out of line and we never rock the boat

For we fear that if we do we’ll be rejected.

We hide our inner selves and put on a masquerade

And live our lives as others think we ought.

It all becomes a habit, from the time that we were born

That’s the only way that we were ever taught.

We accept what we are told and our minds are so controlled

Our freedom is the price that we are paying.

And the judgements that we make, the decisions that we take

Are a product of those games that we are playing.

Do we ever stop to ask if the things we’re taught are true,

Or are we just perpetuating lies?

Copying the people who copied someone else

And seeing things through other peoples eyes.

It seems an awful shame that we feel the need to fit

In a mould that other people have created.

It’s as if we live a lie from our birth until we die

To conform with what society’s dictated.

So teach your kids to think things through before they tow the line.

To question all they read or hear, and they’ll just grow up fine.

No need to play a part in life that isn’t really you.

Because it’s what you’ve grown up thinking you’re expected to

Strip away those false veneers that you have taken on.

Unfettered by convention now, the goose becomes a swan.

And only now we realise that it was such a sin.

The masquerade had ne’er displayed the beauty that’s within.

Copyright John Marsh 2012

Read Full Post »


Think of me when the morning sun, rising

as it has done for ages untold,

from the hills in the east, works its magic,

turns the sky and the bay to pure gold.

In that shimmering moment at daybreak

I have watched and my heart’s taken wing.

Transfixed by the beauty that morning

and sunlight on water can bring.

How fleeting that moment, how fleeting.

It is gone in the blink of an eye.

But it’s printed inside of my head now,

those hills and that sun and that sky.

So if ever you witness such beauty

with the sky and the sun and the sea

and the hills and the morning sun rising,

and it fills you with joy; think of me.

Think of me when the hedges awaken

and  the spring turns the browns into green,

and the countryside wakes from its slumber

and the signs of new life can be seen.

When the bluebells all carpet the woodland

and their perfume lies sweet on the air.

When the gorse adds its yellow to hillsides

that are green with new grass I’ll be there.

Where the burn tumbles out of the hillside

or the river flows down to the sea.

Or the loch, like a mirror, reflects clouds and sky

look around you for there I will be.

On a cold and damp day in the autumn

with a mist drifting in from the sea,

If you hear the sad call of a curlew

echo over the bay, think of me.

Think of me when you see a red sunset

settle over a blood red sea

and a white-breasted seagull is calling

the way that it once called to me.

And you see twilight’s shadows are stretching

ghostly fingers across the lawn

and the bats spread their wings and the nocturnal things

all take over the garden till dawn.

When the moon, rising up in the heavens,

bathes the sea and the sky and the land

In a silvery sheen, think how often I’ve seen

silver sky, silver sea, silver sand.

If you picture a beautiful garden,

nestled close to the side of the sea,

full of birdsong and flowers. I spent happy hours

in one such as this. Think of me.

Copyright John Marsh

This beautiful poem was written when John’s marriage broke

up and he went travelling and had to leave his home and garden 

by the bay in Scotland.

Read Full Post »

image

These are Viola Freckles growing in the back garden. I am planting various Viola in memory of Adam.

By John Marsh © May 2015
Fourteen billion years ago
The whole thing was begun.
Time itself came into being,
The clock began to run.
And in the crucible of space
All there is, was born.
The building blocks of all we know
From some galactic storm.
Collapsing stars formed elements,
The elements combined
To form the substance of it all,
The earth, the trees, mankind!
So look into the midnight sky,
Creation on parade. . .
For what you see in starlight is
The stuff from which we’re made.
For we are in the universe,
The universe in us.
The two are indivisible,
A thing most beauteous.
So hear the song of nature
The song that all things sing.
For we are truly stardust,
Everyone and everything

image

 

Written by John Marsh
Copyright John Marsh
This was published on a poetry website and was a great comfort to me when dealing with the loss of my son and the heartbreak of bringing home his ashes.

Read Full Post »