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The Gubbins (poetry)

November 17, 2013

Hi Folks,

I thought for this morning’s post a gathering up of my recent poems on Linkedin would be in order.  They’re a mixed bag in terms of form, subject and mood, hence my title ‘The Gubbins’.  Hope you like them.  Have a great Sunday.


This one was inspired by a gang of pavers at work outside our public library.  There wasn’t a woman amongst them except in my imagination! 


Cobbles, with a loving mallet she tamps,

the only lady paver in the gang;

hardhat, highviz, cute in their dreams she romps.

Cobbles, with a loving mallet she tamps;

cool, aloof, only for the cobbles she vamps,

yet for one now gone she still feels a pang.

Cobbles, with a loving mallet she tamps,

the only lady paver in the gang.


A double-haiku, purely for fun.  I especially like my yokel…



Best bitter, three jars.

Buxom barmaid flirting, sly.

Squire moans to yokel.


Poachers take his game.

Peanuts pinned with lots of leg.

Yokel eyes twinkle…


A cinquain, rather a sad one…




blue eyes bitter,

dog on a lead dragging,

she passes the pit where he toiled

and died.


On Remembrance Day last Sunday I published my flash fiction story ‘Cap on a Fox’s Head’ (see post above).  I have massive respect for all those who served the cause of freedom in the First and Second World Wars.  I also greatly admire the fortitude and spirit of the British public at home.  The Blitz of 1940 was an especially testing time for those in our towns and cities with nightly the wail of sirens a prelude to the whistle of falling bombs…


Inspiration bright,

raw carrots to gnaw at night,

when bombers drone.


Down the deep shelter,

every poem a belter,

the kid stilled their fear.


Copyright © Paul Beech 2013

From → Poetry

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