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March 2, 2014

Spring has arrived at last in the UK, the meteorological spring anyway.  And how welcome it is, the season of rebirth, regrowth and renewal, after that awful winter.

It was our wettest winter on record, with drenching rain and howling gales wreaking havoc.  Giant waves crashed over sea walls, rivers burst their banks and thousands of homes had to be evacuated in flooded areas.  Power cuts and transport disruption added to our difficulties.  And sadly several people lost their lives.

Below are two little poems I think of as “Stormverse”…


We Brits are surely at our best in times of adversity.  It’s then that our community spirit, compassion and sheer grit surface, as we rally round to assist stricken neighbours and pull together for the common good.  This winter of storms, for all the misery brought, has once again proven our mettle.  We can take pride in that.



A break in the storm;

ping, flicker, power back on,

wreckage to survey.


Good neighbours gather;

bacon and coffee all round,

work to be done now.


Tired, he sends an email;

flicker, ping, power off again,

a world away she smiles.


From storms of the present to storms of the past.  In the following poem, I was thinking of those terrible fishing disasters off the east coast of Scotland in the 19th century – Stotfield 1806, Moray Firth 1848, Eyemouth 1881…  The specifics are fiction, though.



First pink blossom on her old cherry tree;

Queenly still, she walks her cat up the street.

Aye, one bonny spring morn’ on the fish-quay,

First pink blossom on her old cherry tree,

She waved off her love as he went to sea.

Perished, he, in a squall with that doomed fleet.


First pink blossom on her old cherry tree;

Queenly still, she walks her cat up the street…


Copyright © Paul Beech 2014

(Poems previously posted on Linkedin.)


From → Poetry

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