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First Fallen Leaves

September 8, 2013

Okay, so it won’t be official for a couple of weeks yet, until the Autumnal Equinox on Sunday 22nd September.  But in meteorological terms, and as most of us take it here in the UK, autumn began on 1st September.  The low sun filters through gold in the trees.  The first fallen leaves gather along verges.

I think of the following poems, all written and posted on Linkedin since 1st September, as my first fallen leaves.

Have a great autumn, everyone.


My inspiration for this triolet was a gent I encountered in the Weaver Valley recently.  He’d risen from his wheelchair to hobble fifty yards with a dragging foot.  I’ve no idea who he was but his determination and love of life were apparent.


A stubblefield with high horizon gleams.

With dragging foot and blackthorn stick he climbs.

Through butterflies-thistledown-pain he dreams.


A stubblefield with high horizon gleams.

Prognosis poor his words yet come in streams.

When gone he is the breeze will sing his rhymes.


A stubblefield with high horizon gleams.

With dragging foot and blackthorn stick he climbs…


I wrote the following haiku with a quill pen in Jane Austen’s 17th century house at Chawton village, Hampshire.

It was here the author of ‘Sense and Sensibility’, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and other great novels lived with her widowed mother, her sister Cassandra and their friend Martha Lloyd, during the last eight years of her short life, from 1809 to 1817.  The house is now a museum administered by the Jane Austen Memorial Trust.

It was in Jane’s kitchen (with inglenook fireplace and brick oven) that quills and black ink were provided for visitors to try out…


Jane, you guide this quill

and open your world to me.

Thank you, sweet spirit.


A double-haiku inspired by recent observations in the Weaver Valley…


No harvest mirage,

this fast black cat in the rye:

a panther perhaps?


Gone in a paw-swipe,

two white butterflies mating,

down the feline throat.


Copyright © Paul Beech 2013

From → Poetry

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