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Haiku, A Micro-story and A Meteor

December 16, 2012

On Friday night, ably assisted by our two youngest granddaughters, I put up our tree and rigged it with lights.  Yesterday Stella decorated it red and gold.  And in the evening, with a small Irish cream and Jools Holland in the background, I sat gazing into its wondrous twinkly depths.  Now I do feel Christmassy!  Just over a week to go, can you believe it?

Dear All, I thought today I’d share a few short pieces penned and posted on the Linkedin Poetry and Literature site over the last week or so between festive shopping trips and childminding, with a brief mention of something amazing that happened on Wednesday night…


Three haiku to kick off with, the first couple purely for fun, the last describing a chance encounter as I climbed the frozen Weaver Valley one afternoon.




Weimaraner pup at cash point,

Her heart’s desire

To kidnap.




Slug-trail diagonally up the wall;

Boudoir peeping,

Eyes on stalks.




Portly, plain,

The barren winterscape she lit

With her strawberry smile.


Next, a micro-story.  During my career in social housing, the work I loved most was helping the homeless.  Sadly, domestic violence was too often the cause.  And Christmas was a bad time to be on the street with nowhere to go…




Her unborn kicks as she rests on a frozen bench in a bleak northern town.

Seven hours have passed since she fled his fists with naught but the babe in her womb, the clothes on her back and a small knotted bundle.  Seven hours of bus after bus, caring not where she went, only to pile up the miles behind her.  He mustn’t find her.  Must never find her.

The darkening clouds have a purple tinge, a sure sign of snow.  Strangers hurry by; crows croak in a foreign tongue.  Across the road, outside the Town Hall, garishly lit with coloured lights, stands a Christmas tree.

A headscarf bobs before her.  A withered hand points to a door.  Her unborn kicks.  Then stiffly she rises, bundle in hand.

Too much blue, she thinks, crossing.  Too much blue.


[Beyond that Town Hall door, she’d have found help of course, a homelessness officer who would place her in a refuge somewhere.]


Finally, that amazing occurrence.  I’d just read ‘Let me be your beautiful moon’ by Mahnaz Mohafez, a poem dedicated to dads around the world, which had appeared on Linkedin.  I was deeply touched by it, so much so that shortly after midnight I stepped outside into the frosty night to gaze up at the sky.  There was no moon visible but the stars were out in a most magnificent display.  Then, quite taking my breath away, a meteor flashed by, the first I’d ever seen.  Of course it was one of the December Germinid shower radiating from the constellation Gemini.

I posted a comment thanking Mahnaz for her lovely poem – and the meteor!


Bye for now.



Copyright © Paul Beech 2012

From → Poetry

  1. Angela permalink

    Thank you Paul, I enjoyed these.

    I looked up the poem that you refer to – really quite beautiful and moving. I too went out to look into the sky that night but wasn’t fortunate enough to see the meteors.

  2. Thanks, Angela, much appreciated.

    My first ever meteor sighting will stay with me forever, not only because of the dazzling thrill of it but because of the way it came about. If I hadn’t chanced upon Mahnaz’s beautiful poem just then, hadn’t gazed up into the fathomless depths of the starry sky at that precise moment, I’d have missed it, for the meteor was gone in an instant, vaporised in the upper atmosphere.

    Aye, it was truly one of those totally amazing, totally unexpected, totally improbable moments…

    Paul x

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