Biography of Kate Beamish
Now living in Somerset. Have five adult children and five Grandchildren. Also love painting and gardening.
Have been writing poetry for approximately twenty five years. Never consciously write on a subject, but rather 'as the spirit moves'. Usually don't make any adjustments to scanning, rhyme or rythm, just keep scribbling as fast as I can to catch the words as they come from somewhere.
Among my favourite poets are Longfellow, Betjeman and Pam Ayres.
Kate Beamish Poems
Hour by hour I sit and muse in what way my brain to use. Shall I write or shall I read for such effort is there need
Falling with a whisper, soft, fluttering snow, persistently descending, deliberately slow. Delicate flakes land one upon the other, soon, with white blanket, everything to smother.
The Village Hall
Built solidly of stone or bricks, no pebble-dash or fancy tricks. Constructed to perform a duty, not meant to be a thing of beauty.
Seize Every Chance
We pass this way just once, it’s said, and short the time before we’re dead. All too few are the days of bliss, ensure there are none of them you miss.
Some years you visit briefly, with barely time to say hello, in others linger fondly, with long farewells before you go. You chase away the shadows to show that winter’s done and tell us to make ready for a summer full of sun.
The Village Hall
Built solidly of stone or bricks,
no pebble-dash or fancy tricks.
Constructed to perform a duty,
not meant to be a thing of beauty.
The roof’s not made of pretty thatch,
the door has sturdy metal latch,
no knocker gleams, no knob of brass.
The windows don’t have coloured glass.