EYES TESTED

I went to the optician,

For my eyes were all a-blur,

He tested me on the letters chart

And I failed with a sigh and a grrrr.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“My sight was always clear.”

He looked at me and shook his head:

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.”

“Sometimes getting older,

Eyeballs fade and lose their gleam,

And it’s glasses or contact lenses

Or that worrying laser beam.

“No choice if you want to read,

No choice if you want to write, 

No choice if you want to watch TV,

Or drive all through the night. 

“No choice if you want to avoid

Slips and trips and falls,

Bumping into furniture

Or bouncing off the walls.

“So, here’s my diagnosis,

For eyes once so amazing,

Your peepers need the strongest specs,

Complete with double-glazing.”

TELLY ADD HICS

Christmas on the telly

Chock full of festive stuff,

Eyeball indigestion,

Some sparkle and some duff. 

Special this and special that

Recorded last July,

Bits of plastic holly

And a snowy FX sky. 

Ancient classic movies

In flaky black and white,

Conveyor belts of showbiz dross

All through the day and night.  

Cartoons by the hundreds,

Game shows by the score,

Showbiz moves to overdrive

To see we don’t get bored. 

But alas when all the watching’s done

And we’re all drinking cocoas,

All eyeballs in the universe

Will be out of blinking focus.

OH DEAR (AUNTIE FLOSSIE)

Oh dear, what can the matter be,

Aunty Flossie got stuck up an apple tree,

How she got stuck is a bit of a mystery

But the fire brigade’s on it’s way.

The firemen arrived, stifling their giggles

At Auntie Flossie’s teetering wriggles,

Drawing a plan with notes and squiggles,

To get the poor lady down.

To cut the tale short, Auntie was able

To get down on a winch and a strong metal cable,

Shaken and stirred but otherwise stable,

Her tree-climbing days no more.

Paperback available here - http://www.feedaread.com/books/Fun-With-Words-Fun-With-Rhyme-9781784079581.aspx

Fun With Words, Fun With Rhyme

By Joe Cushnan

I love poetry. Sometimes I don’t understand it but other times I get it, learn from it, am entertained by it and, occasionally and wonderfully, I laugh out loud at it. This book is called Fun With Words, Fun With Rhyme and, apart from sharing some new funny poems, I want it to be a book of encouragement to promote a lifelong love of books, bookshops and libraries. The poems can be read quietly or performed by and to enthusiastic, interactive audiences. There are those who, for whatever reason, have the ability but have not had the active encouragement to come back to the language and give it a great big hug. We can all do it. We can all write poems. We can be serious or funny, serious and funny, whatever we want to be. Our poems don’t have to be literary masterpieces, don’t have to be hifalutin, Nobel Prize nuggets of genius – although, if they are, good for us. The joy is in having a go, playing with words, playing with rhyme…..and having fun. Start with “the fat cat sat on the mat” or wherever you like. But, have a go. Like my old friend John, tear poems out of newspapers and magazines. Keep them in your pockets to read later or to give to others. Read poems out loud whenever you can to poetry groups, school classes, at parties – to yourself!

ISBN: 9781784079581

Total Pages: 101

Published: 12 August 2014

Price: £5.99

OH, CHILDREN

Children. Easy targets for fuckwits with guns,
killing sisters, brothers, daughters, sons.
School. A refuge of understanding, a learning place,
moulding the young as part of the human race.
We're all in the squint of a sniper's eye,
who gives a shit about who, what or why?
They get up, get ready and go to class,
only concern is to fail or to pass.
They assume they'll be home when the bell rings,
safe in the comfort of domestic things.
Children, with all that tomorrow holds,
Scream and run as the terror unfolds.
We failed to protect you all from attack,
oh, children, we can never get you back.

WE WUZ ROBBED (AWARDS SHOWS)

Will it be flat cider or champagne fizz
when the presenter says: "The winner is...."?
Will it be tears of joy or tears of woe
on yet another hyped up TV show?
Will it be handshake, hug and kiss sincere,
brave face, stiff upper lip or inner sneer?
Will it be scandal or celebration,
choice of the phone-paying voting nation?
Will it be conspiracy theory stuff,
shenanigans and chicanery guff?

We held our breath until we all turned blue,
as fingers fumbled with the envelope glue.

Will it be flat cider or champagne fizz

when the presenter says: "The winner is...."?

The winners side cheered while the losers sobbed,
"Congratulations" versus "We wuz robbed".

CHRISTMAS HIJACKERS

One Christmas, Santa brought me a toy tipper truck filled with sweets.
I loved it and had great fun loading and unloading my new toy,
driving up and down the hall, in and out of the legs of my family,
sometimes accused of being a pest, other times ignored completely,
but content in my own imagination, a happy, lucky little boy.

But the fun turned to frustration and despair when the hijackers closed in.
My brothers and sisters ganged up to steal the sweets, mean with greed.
I shouted, cried and appealed to my mother as I tried in vain to guard
the most precious possession at that time in my life, under threat
from my own family, this band of robbers pursuing this evil deed.

What does that say about me as fifty years on I remember it?
My only pleasure is knowing that the hijackers think they got away with it.

"HAMISH IS AS HAMISH DOES," SAID GRANNY

The Poems Of Hamish Sheaney : Remastered & Expanded

By Joe Cushnan

In 2012, I published a book called Hamish Sheaney: The Nearly-Man of Irish Literature. The book began with this disclaimer: Hamish Sheaney may not exist, so it might have been necessary to invent him. Hamish Sheaney might be Joe Cushnan or Joe Cushnan might be Hamish Sheaney. They are never seen in the same room together, but more often than not they are in the same room. Shirt collar, shoe size, dental records and preference for Mini-Cheddars are purely coincidental. The book is still available from www.feedaread.com and via Amazon Kindle. It contains a short biography of Hamish as well as lists of his failed screenplays, literary influences and proverbial wisdom (whizz dumb) quotations. This updated book is a remastered (regurgitated?) and expanded version that concentrates on the nearly-man’s specific biographical and observational poetry, and it leaves out the “and other funny stuff”. So as not to short-change anyone too much, other poems and witty gems have been discovered in a holdall in Hamish’s shed. They are printed here for the first time. Granny Sheaney also makes an appearance with her terse views on life and poetry. Unlike my other books of fun verse - Juggling Jelly, The Chuckle Files, Boxset (Without A Box), etc, this collection is a bit more adult in parts.

ISBN: 9781785100727

Total Pages: 99

Published: 17 September 2014

Buy paperback here:

http://www.feedaread.com/books/The-Poems-Of-Hamish-Sheaney-Remastered-Expanded.aspx

CONTENTS

Introduction….9

Death Of A Naturist….13

Tithe Barn….15

The Painted Ceiling….17

Saint Caedmon….19

The Sighting….21

Slobber….23

It’s All Greek To Me….25

Winter….27

Watching My Onomatopoeias….29

Morning Haze….31

Baking Cakes….33

Appreciating Turquoise….35

Door Into The Dusk….37

Possessions….39

Spade….41

Mud….43

Dung….45

Revolution….47

Be A Wolf….49

Misery Match….51 

Staying Out Of The Deep End….53

Silent Footstep….55

No Ordinary Poem….57

Breath Of A Naturalist….59

Meg Marigolds….61

The Hee-Haw Lantern….63

Winging It….65

The Tall Auld Man….67

Just The Job….69

Daff(t)odils….71

Not (Words)worth It….71

Caw….73

Spirit Level….75

Stinky Stallion….77

Banssssshhhhhee….79

Birds In Trees….81

Screwball….83

Rur-ale….85

Ten Fat Rats….87

Noticed Things….91

Sheaneywocky….95

The Prattle Bag….97

And Finally….99

WINDOW DRESSER AT CHRISTMAS

I am a window dresser
at the High Street Christmas shop,
I have to dress the Christmas tree
from bottom to the top.

But after several hours,
I can't take it any more,
I've had traubles with all the baubles
smashing on the floor.

From my book Only Yules & Verses (Funny poems & silly jokes about Christmas) - available here:

http://www.feedaread.com/books/Only-Yules-Verses.aspx

CHRISTMAS CRIB OUTSIDE ST TERESA'S CHURCH, BELFAST

Every year, when I was a kid, St Teresa's Church, Glen Road, Belfast assembled a Nativity scene, using some pretty basic stuff. As a youngster, it was pure joy and magic to use our imaginations. As an adult, our cynicism got in the way.......

CHRISTMAS CRIB OUTSIDE ST TERESA'S CHURCH

It was the highlight of the year,
apart from toys on Christmas day,
to see the outdoor crib
where the baby Jesus lay.

Memory and maturity spoil
the wonder of it all
for the star was a bulb
and Jesus was a doll.

SANTA - DEER, DEER, DEER

From my book Only Yules & Verses (Funny poems & silly jokes about Christmas) - available here:

http://www.feedaread.com/books/Only-Yules-Verses.aspx

Dasher and

Dancer and

Prancer and

Vixen and

Comet and

Cupid and

Donner and

Blitzen and

Rudolph -

Dear, deer, deer,

Deer, deer, deer,

Deer, deer, deer,

Santa sighs,

For every November and no mistake,

He has to do a stocktake.

REST YE MERRY GENTLEMEN

Go on, rest ye merry gentlemen
after Christmas lunch,
remember to leave tummy room
for cakes and chocs and punch,
to save you from dyspepsia
have Rennies there to crunch,

Oh, noises of grunts and snorts and snores,
snorts and snores,
Oh, noises of grunts and snorts and snores.

Awaiting the Queen's speech you try
to slip in forty winks
but Junior's rat-a-tatting toy
forces a rethink,
you give that toy the evil eye
and curse it with a jinx,

Oh at Christmas we're crackers one and all,
one and all,
Oh at Christmas we're crackers one and all.

Merry Christmas to each and every one,
ho, ho, ho,
Merry Christmas to each and every one.

CHRISTMAS SHOPPING

Christmas shopping,

Christmas shopping,

Really makes me dizzy.

Why can’t Christmas

Be in June

When the shops aren’t quite so busy?

A YOUNG MAN DIES

A young man dies and we gather to grieve,
Attempt an answer to the question why,
Summon the composure to say goodbye,
Confused and confounded he had to leave.
Up to the moment, that second of fate,
Good years past but the best ahead,
Of the end not a hint, a trace, a shred,
That impatient cruelty would not wait.
If fortune smiles we grow up and we learn,
We gain wisdom, wit and experience,
Have a chance of success's radiance,
Have hope we survive each twist and turn.
We assemble to mourn a young man's death,
To remember him - first cry to last breath.

GOVERNMENT SKINT UNTIL.....

Department for Business, Innovation and Skills,
Too expensive,
No money.

Department for Communities and Local Government,

Too expensive,

No money.

Department for Culture, Media and Sport,

Too expensive,

No money.

Department for Education,

Too expensive,

No money.

Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs

Too expensive,

No money.

Department for International Development,

Too expensive,

No money.

Department for Transport,

Too expensive,

No money.

Department for Work and Pensions,

Too expensive,

No money.

Department for Energy and Climate Change,

Too expensive,

No money.

Department for Health,

Too expensive,

No money.

Foreign and Commonwealth Office,

Too expensive,

No money.

Home Office,

Too expensive,

No money.

Ministry of Justice,

Too expensive,

No money.

Northern Ireland Office,

Too expensive,

No money.

Scotland Office,

Too expensive,

No money.

Wales Office,

Too expensive,

No money.

Office of the Leader of the House of Commons,

Too expensive,

No money.

Office of the Leader of the House of Lords,

Too expensive,

No money.

Ministry of Defence,

Richer than the rest,

Ta-da!

Bottomless war chest.

THERESA MIGHT, THERESA MAY

Here's a repeat of my June 2012 poem Theresa Might, Theresa May......

Details of internet use in the UK will have to be stored for a year to allow police and intelligence services to access it, under government plans. Records will include people's activity on social network sites, webmail, internet phone calls and online gaming.  Home Secretary Theresa May said the change was needed to keep up with how criminals were using new technology. (Reported 14 June 2012)

Theresa Might, Theresa May,
any moment, any day,
will have the snooping powers to
see what we all say and view.

Theresa May, Theresa Might,
have her own satellite
to hear who we are talking too,
to spy on things we like to do.

Theresa Might, Theresa May,
privacy has had its day,
freedom's gained a ball and chain,
in authority's clamping down campaign.

Theresa May, Theresa Might,
talking sense or talking shite,
how'd she handle protest hits
from fifty million texting Brits?

Theresa Might, Theresa May,
says change is needed to block the way
of each criminal gang and terrorist cell -
sledgehammer/nut, who can tell?

UNDER THE PRETENCE OF FREEDOM

Under the pretence of freedom,
a few control the many,
keeping tensions heightened,
keeping us all frightened.

They agitate, alarm, appal,
brow beat, bully, chill,
daunt, deter, dismay,
harrow, haunt, horrify,
intimidate, oppress, overawe,
panic, perturb, rattle,
spy, snoop, sneak,
scare, shake, stun,
terrify, terrorise, threaten,
torment, unnerve and keep us on the run.

Under the pretence of freedom,

a few control the many,

keeping tensions heightened,

keeping us all frightened.

12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS (SINISTER VERSION)

This is an alternative take on the 12 days of Christmas from my book Only Yules & Verses (available here - http://www.feedaread.com/ ........sing along kids........

12 DAYS

On the first day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me, 


A matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 



On the second day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me,


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 

 



On the third day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me,


Three creepy-crawlies, 


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 

 

 

On the fourth day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me,


Four willy-worms, 


Three creepy-crawlies, 


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 

 



On the fifth day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me, 


Five ladybirds,

Four willy-worms, 


Three creepy-crawlies, 


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 

 
 

On the sixth day of Christmas, 

A joker sent to me, 


Six bees a-buzzing, 


Five ladybirds,

Four willy-worms, 


Three creepy-crawlies, 


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 

 



On the seventh day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me, 


Seven hornets humming, 


Six bees a-buzzing, 


Five ladybirds,

Four willy-worms, 


Three creepy-crawlies, 


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 

 



On the eighth day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me, 


Eight dragonflies, 


Seven hornets humming, 


Six bees a-buzzing, 


Five ladybirds,

Four willy-worms, 


Three creepy-crawlies, 


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 

 



On the ninth day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me, 


Nine caterpillars, 


Eight dragonflies, 


Seven hornets humming, 


Six bees a-buzzing, 


Five ladybirds,

Four willy-worms, 


Three creepy-crawlies, 


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 

 



On the tenth day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me, 


Ten beetles beetling, 


Nine caterpillars, 


Eight dragonflies, 


Seven hornets humming, 


Six bees a-buzzing, 


Five ladybirds,

Four willy-worms, 


Three creepy-crawlies, 


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 

 

 

On the eleventh day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me, 


Eleven crickets clicking

Ten beetles beetling, 


Nine caterpillars, 


Eight dragonflies, 


Seven hornets humming, 


Six bees a-buzzing, 


Five ladybirds,

Four willy-worms, 


Three creepy-crawlies, 


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

With a hyperactive flea. 

 



On the twelfth day of Christmas, 


A joker sent to me,


Twelve wasps a-stinging, 


Eleven crickets clicking, 

Ten beetles beetling, 


Nine caterpillars, 


Eight dragonflies, 


Seven hornets humming, 


Six bees a-buzzing, 


Five ladybirds,

Four willy-worms, 


Three creepy-crawlies, 


Two wriggly spiders, 


And a matchbox

with a hyperactive flea. 

 



On the thirteenth day of Christmas,

Of  these “gifts” I’d had my fill,

So I grabbed the phone and made a call

To pest* controllers….. Rentokil.

*And that includes the joker!