I write for me. I'll write for you. Features, reviews, opinion pieces on life's foibles, film & TV nostalgia, Belfast and more. Contact: firstname.lastname@example.org NO FEAR OF TIGHT DEADLINES! Page views since 2011 below.
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.
Re this book - a reviewer on Amazon wrote: "Only Yules and Verses is one of those special little books that you happen upon serendipitously. I have read authors' blurbs before extolling the mirth to be found in THEIR book only to buy the book and be severely disappointed. What an unexpected joy, therefore, to pick up this little gem and read it to the end with smiles, a few laughs out loud and some headshakes at the ingenuity of Joe Cushnan. I thoroughly enjoyed this and wholeheartedly recommend it to everyone. P.S. I am not a friend or family member of the author, but how I wish I were!"
Contents: Day One Miss L Toe Hannibal Lector's Christmas Jingle Tills Christmas Queue Customers' Carol Carol Singer, The Carol Singer Turkey Trot Rain Dear All Presents And Incorrect Grumpy Old Yule Tell Add Hics The Postman Always Rings Christmas Crib Outside St Teresa's Church Hijackers Celebrity Books At Christmas Christmas Crush Fears In Oxford Street Sage And Onions Ho-Ho-Hosiery Christmas Shopping Mooey Sssshhhh Christmas Alphabet Grrrrristmas Window Dresser 12 Days Snow Poem Deer, Deer Starring Santa Yuletide Decoration Curly Christmas You're A Card Myrrh Grrrrr Red Christmas Card Blurry Christmas Santa Claus/Claws Not So Silent Night 1 Not So Silent Night 2 No Way The Little Drummer Boy Rudolph The Blue-Nosed Reindeer Santa In The Garden Strictly Christnas Wenceslas Weather Christmas Gaga Hit The Deck Snowmen Ice-Cream Cone Nosey Joy Jokes section
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?
Cold callers, script-readers on the phone line,
"Allo, mate" the usual opening blurt,
From a geezer-sounding pipsqueak of a squirt.
Chumminess and sales patter both combine
To raise my hackles and to boil the blood -
Double-glazing, new driveway, roof repairs,
Insurance, pensions, random questionnaires -
Just snake-oil blether, full of crap and crud.
They want money, think I'm an easy touch,
Out for the vulnerable gal or chap,
The weakling, the patsy, the eventual sap,
To sign a contract for such and such.
The reaction to all this crap and crud?
Just slam the phone down with a thud.
Good news, shunted aside, outweighed by bad,
On TV, on radio and in print,
Try to spot the positives, eyes a-squint,
Trying to find the upbeat drives you mad.
Obsession with the bleak, the vile, the sad,
Squeezing out any trace, the slightest hint,
Not much sign of sparkle, shine or glint,
Instead the tainted lustre of the cad,
The faces of murderers and the crooks,
Their evil piercing eyes chilling the spine,
Hogging the main headlines with pithy hooks.
So much bad and ugly news to endure
Good news is rare as rocking horse manure.
'Tis the season for Christmas ads TV,
Time to roll out the cliches once again,
Goodwill to all children, women and men,
Ho, ho, ho and sentimentality.
Tables laden with tons and tons of food,
Lots of people clinking glasses: "Cheers",
John Lewis tugging heartstrings, maybe tears
As boy with penguin gets us in the mood.
Jingly bells and tinsel set the scene,
Trying for that warm pre-festive swoon,
Our eyes and ears tingle as the screen
Reminds us yer man Santa's coming soon,
But remember, lest business thinks we're green,
These ads were filmed in the middle of June.