RUR-ALE

From my latest work in progress -

The Poems of Hamish Sheaney: Remastered & Expanded

RUR-ALE

I would wade through ditch and gulley,

Bog, bramble, bracken and thistle,

Brush, fern, thicket, briar and hedgerow,

Nettle, weed, needle and prickle,

All kinds of growth from grass to shrub,

Always thinking, moaning, muttering:

“There’s got to be an easier route

to the local pub.”

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And don't forget my latest book of funny verse for kids (of all ages)

(available here http://www.feedaread.com/ ) and soon via Amazon and other book sites

BUS FUSS

From my new book of funny poems (available here http://www.feedaread.com/ ) and soon via Amazon and other book sites

BUS FUSS

I gave the bus driver a potato,

He looked at me all agog,

I gave the bus driver a frying pan

And a collar once worn by a dog.

I gave the bus driver an apple core,

He started tugging his hair,

He said: “Look mate, dunno what you’re playing at,

It’s just not fare!”

BOXSET (WITHOUT A BOX) OF FUNNY POEMS

Currently drawing together my three poetry books for children (of all ages) into a

 "Boxset (Without A Box) Of Funny Poems" 

Individual paperbacks available from http://www.feedaread.com/

Juggling Jelly & The Chuckle Files are also available via Amazon Kindle.
The latest - Fun With Words, Fun With Rhyme - is only in paperback.

More on "Boxset (Without A Box) Of Funny Poems" soon. 



I would love to have the work considered for poetry anthologies.

I would love to write funny editorial for advertising agencies.

BLINKING SILLY (FROM NEW BOOK)

From my new book of funny poems (available here http://www.feedaread.com/ ) and soon via Amazon and other book sites

BLINKING SILLY

I thought I saw a dinosaur

Creeping up on me.

I’m sure I saw a dinosaur

As big as big can be.

But then I stopped and pondered,

I had a good old thinct,

It couldn’t be a dinosaur

‘Cos they are all extinct.

POETRY BOOKS FOR CHILDREN

My three poetry books for children (of all ages) -
paperbacks all available from http://www.feedaread.com/

Juggling Jelly & The Chuckle Files are also available via Amazon Kindle.
The latest - Fun With Words, Fun With Rhyme - is only in paperback.



I would love to have the work considered for poetry anthologies.

NEW BOOK: FUN WITH WORDS, FUN WITH RHYME

My new book is available now from http://www.feedaread.com/books/Fun-With-Words-Fun-With-Rhyme.aspx and soon from Amazon and all other online book sites.

The books are delivered in Amazon-quality outer packaging.

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

BIRTH OF HATRED

I went back to the birth of hatred, no further back,
even further back still, with a cudgel to beat the newborn
to a pulp, to kill it even before it had stuck its head out,
before the first gulp of worldly air, the first cry, my attack
would be surprise, out of the blue, the red mist ghosting
through the network of my veins like a rollercoaster 
in a theme park, my head dizzy, my heart thumping,
my chest heaving with intoxicating vengeance, boasting
that I would be the one from now to go back to then,
the hero of the lets-kill-this-fucking-thing and start over,
but hatred was out before I reached the ward doors,
and no amount of hopeless quests would drag it back in again.