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Saturday, 5 September 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 books 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.

My own original Text ©2020 Joe Cushnan (But you can RT!)



Good King Wenceslas looked out

And did a double take,

Despite all his initial doubt,

He rubbed his eyes awake.

Brightly shone the sun that day,

Sweltering hot and sticky,

He thought as this is Christmas Eve,

The forecast’s a bit dicky.


“Bring me shorts Bermuda-style,

Bring me sun tan lotion,

Bring me cola by the crate

And ice cubes by the ocean.

Bring my sunbed by the pool,

I can’t believe this weather,

I can swim around all day

In the altogether.”


Good King Wenceslas’s dream

Ended with a bump,

He fell out of his bed it seems

And bruised his ample rump,

Groggy from his accident

And dazed and half-asleep,

He gaped out through the curtain gap

To see snow six-feet deep.

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