Skip to content

Ginger Tache

April 25, 2016


Two short poems about someone very important in my life, who I shall always remember with love…




Proud and true,

a church spire rises

against the churning, charging legions

of storm cloud.

In twilight glory,

nacreous clouds of rainbow hue

float in the higher regions beyond.


Snowdrops prick the earthly shadows,

his favourite spring flower always.

Proud and true,

with ginger tache and blue eyes,

decorated for bravery in the trenches,

he was my granddad.






A nipper held high,

I told my granddad:

“The wind took my kiss away.”



Copyright © Paul Beech 2016




From → Biographical, Poetry

  1. “The wind cooke my kiss away.” Surely some of the very best lines of poetry are spontaneously spoken by innocent children.

    These images of your grandfather are beautifully drawn and very touching, Paul. I feel as if I know him, on the inside and out.

  2. I don’t know why auto correct did it, but I meant to type “The wind TOOK…” 🙂

    • Dear Cynthia, thank you so much. My Grandad Dawson became a policeman and rose to the rank of Chief Inspector. He was a talented self-taught violinist and would play accompanied by his two daughters, the younger later my mum. He was also a brilliant raconteur and any flair I myself possess for storytelling must be from him. Certainly my wonderful Grandad Dawson was a major influence on my life.

      My very best,


  3. maureen Weldon permalink

    These are both very beautiful poems, I have read them and heard you read them, the images are wonderful. I almost feel I know your Granddad, and what an honour that would have been.

    All my love,

    Maureen x

    • Maureen, I so wish you could have met my grandad. You’ve seen the photographs, his proud bearing and kindly smile. He was a truly good man and you’d have loved him.

      The greatest compliment ever paid me was from my dad when he said I was very like my Grandad Dawson. I find this a steadying, sustaining thought.

      All my love,

      Paul x

  4. Lovely poems about grandad. I write this on the 41st anniversary of his passing, 1st May 1975. The poems bring back vivid memories of grandad that haven’t faded over the years. He and grandma married towards the end of WW1 and they remained devoted to each other all their lives. He survived the horrors of war no doubt spurred on by the knowledge that the love of his life was waiting for him and preparing a wonderful home ready for his return. He was indeed a brave man and a brilliant storyteller. I have no doubt that you, Paul, have inherited his storytelling talent.

    • Thanks Angela. The years fly by but never will we forget Grandad sitting in his favourite chair, holding us spellbound with stories from his life. His lovely warm tones always gave us such a happy feeling.

      Often I think about Grandma and Grandad at around the time Mum and Dad met during the Blitz year 1940. Grandad was an inspector with the Farnworth Constabulary and the family lived in a terraced house on Clarence Street. I picture their musical evenings held behind blackout curtains, with Grandad playing violin accompanied by Mum, also on violin, and her elder sister Edith on piano. Grandma would sometimes join in by clashing pan lids together or singing, much to the annoyance of Sooty the cat!

      Grandad’s favourite piece of music was of course the intermezzo from Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana.

      Speak soon,


  5. Beautiful family tribute here Paul. The love and joy spring fourth like the flowers in May. I am sure your ancestors are smiling upon you with pride and joy.

    I never had the opportunity to meet any of my grandparents, sadly they all passed before I was 3. I do however know the joy of being a grandparent and shower all the love I possess on my grandchildren. Hopefully they will remember me in the same fashion that you have shown here.

    Thank you for sharing your wonderful memories.

    Loved your poetry as always.

    Warm Regards,


    • Thanks Pat. Yes, blessed we are indeed to have grandchildren. I love mine too, very much. And goodness me, the fun I have with the younger ones! Games, stories, sketching, feeding ducks… we seem to enter a different realm somehow. It’s a shame you didn’t know your grandparents but I’m sure your grandchildren love you dearly, as mine do me.

      Warm regards,


  6. Your Granddad Dawson was a very special man – amazing talents all the while giving of his community spirit as part of the police force. Wonderful work.

    • Thanks Mary, a wonderful man he certainly was, my Grandad Dawson. I only wish he’d lived to see the launch of my first book, ‘Twin Dakotas’. Yet I feel him there in spirit.


  7. Thanks Mary. By my side with his ginger tache, blue eyes and rich Lancashire tones, so warm and wise. In my heart always. Yes.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: