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Christmas Zest 2015

December 20, 2015


Maureen and I both read at the Christmas Zest poetry event on Monday night at Alexanders, Chester, a major North-West venue for jazz, blues, rock and alternative comedy. In fact Maureen, ably assisted by well-known Chester poet and photographer Mike Penney, presented the evening in the absence of regular host Kemal Houghton due to illness, and did so beautifully, creating a welcoming, happy atmosphere in which we all performed well.  Sadly it was the last Zest at Alexanders.

Below are two of the poems I read.

Have a wonderful Christmas and New Year, everyone.




Her unborn kicks as weary 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.

O for a splash of gold.


Paul Beech




A black iron range, coals glimmer and glow;

three boys in pyjamas, they watch TV,

cosy with westerns, war, crumpets, cocoa…


A black iron range, coals glimmer and glow;

two brothers, their friend, sixty years ago,

now Christmas card names, across the country…


A black iron range, coals glimmer and glow;

three boys in pyjamas, they watch TV…


Paul Beech 


Copyright © Paul Beech 2015




From → General, Poetry

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