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Poet Alone

January 31, 2016

There was a time way-back when I had no contacts at all in the literary world and no knowledge of the small presses where my early work, so enthusiastically hammered out on a small mechanical typewriter, might have found a home. I submitted to top magazines with the inevitable result – rejection slip after rejection slip.

Thanks to my partner Maureen Weldon, a former dancer with the Irish Theatre Ballet and a widely published poet since the ‘80s, I’m in a happier place now, a member of Chester Poets and Cross-Border Poets, getting published, and reading regularly at public events (two in the last week).

Much of my early work is lost but here’s a poem from September ’79 in which I expressed my frustration at the time…




A loner –

porcelain eyes, as if on wires,

guide his floating face

above the concourse

as he hacks his way


through the jungles of his mind,

his talent his machete.


Soon –

a clearing opens before him

and there is the crowd.

But what will they care

for his poem?


Paul Beech


Have a great Sunday, everyone.


Copyright © Paul Beech 2016


From → General

  1. Best wishes for future publishing. x SB

    • Thanks, Sabiscuit, and welcome to my blog. I like the look of yours and will read more over coffee.

      Best wishes from North Wales,


      • Hello Paul, thank you for the visit. It’s great to meet you, too. xo

  2. Good Morning Paul,
    In reading your introduction I can feel the love and flow of happiness from you. So happy about your newly found success and love.
    Your poem is heartfelt as well, but very sad. Happiness can change us in ways we never thought possible. You are wrapped in the arms of love and it shows. Congratulations and continued success with all of your offerings,


    • Dear Pat, how right you are: love changes all. In stormiest morning or darkest night, my skies are bright! Thank you for your friendship and support.



  3. “Will they care?”….I would guess that your poem expresses universal feelings of the budding poet, Paul. The itch to write poetry becomes a calling to do so, somewhere along the line, regardless of audience permission or appreciation. But it surely is wonderful to have “a public,” and it seems that you are well positioned for that now. And we are so lucky to also have the internet, which finds us readers, takes away the sense of isolation, and allows this very sentence I am now typing in Maine, USA to swoop over to Wales and greet you, in no time at all!

    • Thank you, dear Cynthia, how perceptive, interesting and supportive your comments always are. My urge to write stems from my childhood in 1950s Lancashire, reading Enid Blyton’s ‘Adventure’ series, then HG Wells’ ‘War of the Worlds’, as well as poets like Oliver Goldsmith. Following a move to Chester, I read all of Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories then progressed to Ian Fleming… Never did I dream that someday I’d be reading my own work to live audiences, getting published, and flinging my words into cyberspace!

      My very best to you always.



  4. Hi Sabiscuit, I visited your blog again this morning (Monday) and for a pleasant spell was distracted from the battering wind outside and the creaking roof timbers above, which usually make me feel I’m on a storm-tossed galleon in buccaneering times! Will be back.


  5. I’m so happy to read that you are now being published and are holding readings – your work is beautiful. Isn’t it wonderful that you are able to share your writings with people throughout the world, both on the internet, through publishing’s and readings – we are all the better for it.
    BTW in your early writing here, I feel the longing and desire to spill your words onto the pages under the guidance of your pen, but to be noticed is the prize that we are rejoicing because you have now won!

    • Hi Mary, such a lovely comment –thank you. Thrilling it certainly is to be reaching people with my work at last! My early scripts are faded with dust and age but now I can give my younger self a wink, as if to say, “You got there in the end, kid!”

      Aye, the internet – what a miracle of modern science, what a boon. But what a pain whenever it goes down! After a long, frustrating week-and-a-half without internet or landline recently, beginning to despair of ever recovering service, you can imagine our hearty cheer, Maureen’s and mine, when finally the fault was fixed. How lovely, being able to view your stunning artwork again.

      Take care,


      • Thank you so much Paul for the beautiful compliment AND here is to connection. Great to read that your internet is back up.

  6. Poet Alone is a good poem, though it makes me feel sad.
    I am so glad that now your work is having some of the recognition it deserves, my Paul.
    All my love,

    Maureen x

    • Ah, Maureen…guess the poem gives me a bit of a pang too. But never mind. I kept going. Kept going down the decades of rejection and frustration until one day I met someone very special indeed, a poet with a style all her own and a wonderful way on stage from her dancing days. She captured my heart and drew me out from the shadows – you, my darling, you.

      With thanks, and very much love,

      Paul xxx

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