Hail My hands know the sadness of rock, of unfinished lines and rough sides tapering to sharpness. The shape of solitude, turning. Now the stones fall as water, a woman lets down her hair and laugh…

Source: Hail

Frankensteen matters to me.

Frankensteen matters to me.


Lowes 570 Second Avenue

A dollar cinema

All day in air conditioning

A cinch for elderly citizens

The bill of the day

Young Frankensteen

Outside the air was green

An electric storm was brewing

In the darkness

I lay back and watched

Old people holding meetings

While the screen roared

With a Hollywood storm

Black and white lightning flashing

And that rumble of thunder

Outside same thing was happening

The two merged a sheet of rain

Fell from the ceiling

Sending old people scuttling up the aisles

Meanwhile Gene Wilder’s eyes

Wide open

Reflected the scene inside.



A tribute to a  nice man.







Walls are like scars                                                                                               Some are easily seen

Some walls that are                                                                                              Invisible to you and me

Scars like walls almost                                                                                         Invisible even to the keen eyed

Some scars are like walls                                                                                     So easily seen

Then there are those walls                                                                                 Others like to build

To prevent themselves                                                                                        From seeing scars

From feeling


So we build high walls                                                                                        To protect ourselves

But protect us                                                                                                        From what exactly

Ourselves?                                                                                                              Everyone?






Walls are like scars                                                                                               Some don’t  want to see

Walls that block                                                                                                     Out all feeling

Walls that stop                                                                                                      Us becoming involved

Walls that need                                                                                                     To come down

So that scars can heal                                                                                          And stop more harm

To ourselves.                                                                                                         To everyone.





Some scars never heal                                                                                         While there are walls

That stops us                                                                                                         From healing.


Stop us from hearing                                                                             Ourselves!

Stop us from seeing                                                                               Ourselves!


Walls keep





Lament for the girl of the morning sea

Lament for the Girl of the Morning Sea.


A premonition of merciful peace has emerged

In the morning of this day.


And as if in agreement

Your hand opens to the waves.

In a movement of gratitude,

A moment of quiet acceptance.

I have heard you sing

To the waves crests,

Rise, rise from your depths

Rid me of all pain

I am alone wash over me.


In this bright early hour

You are at once transformed.

Peace adorns you,

Rests on your face.

I have seen you whisper

To the open sky

Touch me, cleanse me

Rid me of all fear.

I am alone wash over me.


Your hair hangs tangled

Stiffly on your eyes,

Green-water droplets

Trickle to your lips.

Your fingers grasp

The waters edge.

The shoreline pierces you,

Welcomes you, calls to you.

I am alone wash over me.


And you lying unseen

A curved silken spine

Broken by spite

The savagery of indifference

And the brutality

Of unmourned death

Move without moving.

Knowing nothing, knowing nothing

In your quiet sadness.

I am alone wash over me.


I have heard you sing

To the waves crests’

Rise from your depths

Rise from your submerged stillness.

I have heard you sing

To the open sky,

Touch me, cleanse me,

Rid me of all pain,

Rid mew of all fear.

I am alone wash over me.


Your mother cries for you in her silence

And mourns for another in her isolation.

I am alone wash over me.


Published in “Uncertain Times” Octavo Press 2016.14359016_1268703409830325_6191519944459544144_n

Book Launch Octavo’s Cardiff.


The book launch at Octavo’s was a great night. I want to thank Mike Jenkins of the Red Poets, Suzanne Iuppa poet and Rhys poet for their readings and support. Also Cara Cullen my daughter poet and songstress and Fiona Cullen my wife and magnificent singer for their musical contribution and support.

Suzanne Iuppa’s reading of my poem “Lament for the girl of the morning Sea” will stay with me for a long time.

Last but not least a big thank you to the listeners!

It was a grand party!