Total Pageviews

Monday, 24 August 2020


Available for freelance writing commissions on a variety of subjects including family history, nostalgic Belfast and its famous people, shops, shoppers & shopping (40 years in retailing), the golden age of Hollywood (including westerns) and humorous pieces on life's weird and wonderful. Op-eds, columns, non-fiction book reviews too. & @JoeCushnan

I have a portfolio of features, reviews, poetry and short fiction published in all sorts of places - Belfast Telegraph, Tribune, Ireland's Own, Dalhousie Review, Fairlight Books, Reader's Digest, Reality, Lapwing Poetry, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Spillwords, Dear Reader, Amethyst Review, Black Bough, to name a selection.  Oh, and the odd BBC radio contribution. I wrote a book on retailing, on dealing with job losses and a biography of film star Stephen Boyd.

This is a series of (hopefully) funny poems from hundreds I've written over the years (inspired by the likes of Spike Milligan and Roger McGough) to provoke a smile in these odd times.


Old Meg she was a cleaner
washing walls and floors
like her mop she was old and ragged
from a million scrubbing chores.
Her arsenal was a bucket,
a chamois, a duster, a broom
her aroma was disinfectant,
her B.O. could clear a room.
She sang as she washed the tiles
with a frog lodged in her throat,
she whistled a piercing tune
with no danger of hitting a note.
Her breakfast was a fag and coffee,
her lunch was a coffee and fag,
she was skinny as an HB pencil
her tired flesh heading south in a sag.
But the work years took their toll
there was no way she could duck it,
Old Meg slipped on a skiddy floor
and finally kicked the bucket.

 Text ©2020 Joe Cushnan

No comments:

Post a comment