Lord Have Mercy On Us: A Poem By Pete Marshall

“Lord Have Mercy On Us”

a poem by Pete Marshall

Darkness falls on cobbled streets

That lead to doors of deep despair

The bell is rang for those that died

As wafts of death pollute the air

A heavy cart that trundles on

Collects the love that fell away

As Royals feast in silver halls

And chew the fat of life’s decay

The fires roar and warm their bones

Whilst bells are tolled and paupers roam

And streets are paved with others gold

Who hike the rates beyond two fold

A weary beast that pulls his load

As master sits with whip in hand

Is led beyond the outer walls

To bury hope amongst the damned

The petals fall from flowered stems

Of roses sung in lullaby’s

The pits are filled from broken homes

And dreams that lived and slowly died

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The Great Plague of 1665 devastated families and communities within the City of London. If plague was found in a household is was sealed, condemning the whole family to death. A red cross was painted on the door of these houses along with the words “Lord Have Mercy On Us.” At night corpses were collected to the cry “bring out the dead”, and placed in a cart to be taken away to the plague pits.

This poem is not just about the plague of 1665 but also the plague that is currently controlling the City of London. The Financial Institutes that are responsible for destroying peoples life’s and helping create this current recession….the Banks…..

For those of you that have been following the "My Struggle With Unemployment" series you will, no doubt, feel my own personal suffering within this piece...this week has been hard for my family and I as we have been to the Courts to fight our own battle with the plague.........

The Wreckers: A Poem By Pete Marshall

The Wreckers:

 A Poem By Pete Marshall

The bells would chime as lowered heads

Would march in line to pay their debts

But coppers weighed on ravaged hands

As wolves would bay in greedy clans

And nights would close on darkened rooms

Where paths were chose that led to doom

And on the beach from tunnels deep

The ships would breach as wreckers meet

Amongst the brine the cries of men

That took to crime to feed their bairns

Whilst sailors drowned in torrid seas

And booty found beseeched by pleas

They climbed the rocks and journeyed home

As hope would mock their tired bones

But death would lay upon the cliffs

When state would claim their laden gifts

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You might or might not know but a lot of my poetry has been inspired by my experiences with being unemployed? I have written a series on this which can be viewed on the following link, My Struggle With Unemployment.

The above piece came about by the thought of how far you would go to feed your family when faced with mounting debts & hard times. I then began to think back to a time so much different from the one we live in but when these problems were just as rife. The wreckers tells a tale of a village whose men paid the ultimate price.

If unemployment has affected you in any way, if you would like to talk about it, share your experiences, then I am willing to hear. You can leave a comment or email me.

Regards Pete

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