Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Dec 2023 Marshal Gebbie
Where Shelter
In God’s No~Fly Zone

blessedly, so many of you are
unaware of the full color spectra
that be can seen only when an
age of experience has been reached,

reached, not attained, for the no~fly
zone is no place to be, without any
redeeming colorations, it is dark hued
twilight that inhibits vision clarity,
a precursor warning of the hungry
darkness
that offers to swallow one
into shades of sad remorse, and other
miseries

How came I to earn this distinction,
was not by acting out, rather by inaction,
the failure to pick the  correct fork in a
life of sentence diagramming, sentence
in the prison sense, all my sentences,
broken down,  no connection sensible
to the next phrase, next phase,  so I
sit beneath my vine and fig tree, unable
to fly, unable to tear shed,
grounded, pounded in my head
  Dec 2023 Marshal Gebbie
spysgrandson
anonymous winds
bend tall Timothy grasses,
wake rabbits napping
in the brush

they ripple the surface
of the stock tanks, tickle the haunches
of the beasts who wade there
to slurp the tepid waters

they birth red dust devils
for my eyes to follow, as they scud
through mesquite, and hopscotch over canyons
older than time

one day, soon, they will blow
over a shallow earth bed; I will not hear
their sibilant song, but my sleep will be deep,
unperturbed by their mystic music
  Dec 2023 Marshal Gebbie
Poetoftheway
(when first I learned my
intellect paled by compare,)

I,
did not weep,
for my eyes
with love keeps

reminding with
every glance,
my intuition
is where my
value lay…

<>

of course, it a genius creative choreographer,
Lar Lubovitch,
to remind of the obvious
I forget
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2023
Still the fires of slaughter burn
In this dry and ancient land,
Still the caustic scent of hate
Pervades the hand of man,
Still the blood drips from the blade
As Arab slaughters Jew
Then Arab children die in dust
As fury blasts anew.

Long the torment taints the sun
Long the wailing cry,
Incarcerated innocents
In dusty rubble, die.

It all began in ancient time
When men in armour strode
In sandaled feet, their fate to meet
Whilst Alexander rode.
Macedonian slaughter fought
In desperation, all
With every soul decapitated
Without so much as judgement call.

Long the torment taints the sun
Long the wailing cry
Incarcerated innocents,
In dusty rubble, die.

Titanic and gigantic now
The pachyderms attack
The archers launch their waves of arrows
From the creatures back.
Trumpeting their fury
In monolithic charge
The elephants run rampant
Through the terrified discard.

Long the torment taints the sun
Long the wailing cry
Incarcerated innocents,
In dusty rubble, die.

Through the ages blood has run
From Cleopatra's reign
Roman legions metric stamp
And Caliphatic stain,
The Manlucks and the Ottomans,
To Napoleon's brief try
That led us to the British pledge
That Israel's flag must fly.

Long the torment taints the sun
Long the wailing cry
Incarcerated innocents,
In dusty concrete, die.

One hundred years hath passed us by
Unreconciled, unchanged,
Now hatred drips from every pore
With attitudes deranged.
Now all out warfare rules the day
And battle shrouds the sky
What chance that fortune swings to peace?
In hindsight....Pigs might fly!

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
3 December 2023
The agony of Gaza began in 330BC and has been a litany of blood ever since.
The current cataclysm is a continuation of the everlasting emnity inherint in the  denizens be they Hebrew or Arab. The blame delves back centuries. Nobody currently lives who can point the finger at who started what.
Can it all be resolved? Wiser men than I have just shaken their heads and shrugged....So say I, reluctantly and with a sense of deep sadness.....

SO SAY I.

M.
~
December 2023
HP Poet: Marshal Gebbie
Age: 78
Country: New Zealand


Question 1: We welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Marshal. Please tell us about your background?

Marshal: "My name is Marshal Gebbie and I write under "M" or "M@Foxglove.­Taranaki. NZ". I am 78 years old and a native son of Australia. I came to New Zealand for a looksee with a pack on my back and a guitar under my arm, intended spending six weeks but absolutely fell in love with the Kiwi people and this magnificent little jewel of a country nested deep in the waves of the great Southern ocean of the South Pacific. I've now been here 54 years and counting. I married darling Janet back about 35 years ago and we produced two fine sons, Boaz and Solomon both of whom have great careers, wonderful partners...and in Solomon's case, produced a delightful granddaughter for us to love and spoil to bits.

From ****** agricultural college I went to the darkest, deepest wilds of Papua New Guinea as an Agricultural Officer, returned to Australia two years later to become a secondary college teacher in Ag Science. Easily the most satisfying profession of my life in that I succeeded in drawing the pearls of enlightenment from within the concrete mass of the, then, recalcitrant, brickheaded studenthood to realise the wonder of discovery, involvement and engender, within them, a genuine spirit of endeavour. Stepping off the boat in NZ I took a bouncers job in a rough public bar, three months later I started my own brand new tavern @ the Chateau Tongariro in the skifields of Mt Ruapehu.

Seeing a unique opportunity and with no money of my own I bought a derelict motorcamp in the small country township of National Park, named the place "Buttercup Camp" and set about making the enterprize one of the very first destination holiday venues in New Zealand. I pioneered paddle boat white water rafting on the wild rivers of the North Island, commercial adventure horse trekking in the wilderness trails, guided adventure hikes across the active volcanos of Ruapehu, Nguarahoe and Tongariro. Cheffed three course roast dinners and piping hot breakfasts for up to 150 house guests daily and initiated an alpine flightseeing business and air taxi service to and from Auckland and Wellington International to the National Park airstrip, a long grassy, uphill paddock liberally populated by flocks of sheep and/or herds of beef cattle.

Somewhere along the way I earned myself a Commercial Pilots Licence and owned, through the duration, 7 different aircraft. With the sudden fiscal collapse of tourism in the late 80s along with several inconvenient local volcanic eruptions, I divested myself from "Buttercup", moved my young family to Auckland and took up a 20 year lease of a derelict motel in Greenlane. Within three months I had converted the business into Auckland's premier truckstop providing comfortable welcoming accommodation, piping hot dinners and early breakfasts with the added bonus of a pretty young thing serving drinks in the bar....Super service with a smile for the nations busy truck drivers.
It worked like a rocket for ten years then the local matrons objected to the big rigs starting up at 4am and the Ministry of Transport and the Local Authority shut me down.

I worked the last 12 years of my serious working life as a Storeman and Plant Coordinator for a major construction company building motorways and major traffic tunnels in and under Auckland city and in rural Hamilton. I loved every minute of it all and objected furiously when they retired me at age 75.

Now I'm happily a Postman Pat in a little rural country town on the coast called Okato, have been for three years and shall continue be, gleefully, until they put me in the box. It has been a helluva run....and I wouldn't have missed a minute of it all."



Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Marshal: "Poetry started for me when I wrote a beautiful ditty as an exercise at high school.....and the caustic old crow of a teacher said, publicly,...."You didn't write this!" That got the juices flowing and set me off on the tangent of proving my worth as a writer....and I have never stopped."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Marshal: "Falling in love for the very first time kick started the romanticisms....it took me years to mollify that. Since then and throughout life Poetry has hallmarked discovery, achievement, white hot anger, combat and delight!"


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Marshal: "It is the medium of expression which allows the spirit to enhance and colour my world."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Marshal: "Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, Emily Dickinson, WL Winter, WK Kortas, L Anselm, Victoria (God Bless her), and a character, sadly long gone from these pages, JP. All favourite poets of mine."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Marshal: "With the slowing of my battered body these days I commit myself to my darling wife, Janet, our kids, now grown and living out there in the big wide world, and in growing and nurturing the truly magnificent gardens of "Foxglove" ......following the All Black rugby team and enjoying the serenity of a cut glass noggin of Bushmills Irish whiskey (neat), sitting in my favourite chair, watching the sun set in golden array over the grey waters of the distant Tasman Sea, far, far below."


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for giving us an opportunity to get to know you, Marshal! It is an honor to include you in this series!”

Marshal: "Greetings Carlo and thanks for the opportunity to unload on my fellow poets."



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Marshal better. I learned so much about his fascinating life. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez & Mrs. Timetable

We will post Spotlight #11 in January!

~
Below are some of Marshal's favorite poems and links to each one:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1620867/windwitch-of-the-deep/
Windwitch of the Deep by Marshal Gebbie
Click to read the poem and comment...
hellopoetry.com

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1274911/running-the-beast/
Running the Beast by Marshal Gebbie
Click to read the poem and comment...
hellopoetry.com

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/386523/so-wetly-one/
Once, so wetly one. by Marshal Gebbie
Click to read the poem and comment...
hellopoetry.com

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/435103/perchance-in-a-bus-shelter/
Perchance, in a Bus Shelter by Marshal Gebbie
Click to read the poem and comment...
hellopoetry.com

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/389195/white-foggy-days/
White, Foggy Days by Marshal Gebbie
Click to read the poem and comment...
hellopoetry.com

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/266893/cheetah/
Cheetah by Marshal Gebbie
Click to read the poem and comment...
hellopoetry.com
  Dec 2023 Marshal Gebbie
martin
What did I do with my glasses?
I had them a minute ago
They’re always disappearing
I don’t know where they go

My eyes don’t focus without them
Now that me youth has gone
One of the things I’ve learned is
You don’t stay young very long

I waste so much time just searching
Can anyone tell me where?
I could be being useful
Or having a kip in the chair

I asked my wife to help me
With a roll of her eyes she said
Try where your hair used to be dear
They’re on the top of your head
Next page