Born in Eastleigh, Hampshire.
Secondary Modern Education, Wyvern, Fair Oak.
Sheet Metal Worker, Tinsmith & Welder. British Rail.
University of Southampton, Romantic Poetry. more »
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Charles McMullen Poems
Angel on the Isle of Wight
Why did Superboy play in the doorway, Of number 11 up from the slipway. Then on down the road another boy asked, 'What number comes after 110? ' then,
How is my love when she's alone? Miles apart and doesn't phone. Where is the justice that lets us pine? Is the pain hers and also mine?
Ode on My Mother's Passing On
As I wander down life’s fateful road, My thoughts are like a birthing Surinam toad. Born in the middle then coming out right, Out to the back but hold on tight.
I wait for inspiration to envelop me, And then I find I'm on a spree. Where it comes from I don't know, I just follow like footsteps in the snow.
Where is the truth we often ask, This is usually a strenuous task. People deceiving with there big black lies, Even though they wear smart neckties.
The Very Good Friend
Now Simon is a poet chef, He rhymes with all his food. On the plate is none left, His nosh is all so good.
The Birth of Christ
Late upon a winters night, There became a wondrous sight. The angel of the Lord shone around, To all amazed upon the ground.
Wake up and Smell the Coffee
When we’re apart: - There’s an artery shares our heart. When we’re together: - We enjoy all weather.
Inferno in Shirley
Into the hellfire you scrambled for us, You went in with a ferocious cuss. Flames all around you searched and found, You did not do it for the Sterling Pound.
Out of the still the thunder roared, Out of the dark the lightening soared. Two powers of nature heavenly made, That God is angry is often said.
Oh pretty fragile leaf of red and brown, most splendid of all out of town. Copy of a Zulu warrior’s shield, handsome thing of nature’s yield.
The Flight of Pegasus
Pegasus flew through my window this afternoon, M’thought he’d never come, but he came quite soon. There’d been a tiny silver wet element on a lash of my eye, T’id not mean t’was I forlorn or t’would die.
I wait in the cavern beneath the falls, Whilst you are locked up between the walls. My mind is skating o’er the top, But sure ‘tis a very long way to drop.
Smoking (Ashes to Ashes)
Do they really need a nipple, While they quaff their tipple. Even though the barmaid tries’ She gets a cloud puffed in her eyes.
Comments about Charles McMullen
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Angel on the Isle of Wight
Why did Superboy play in the doorway,
Of number 11 up from the slipway.
Then on down the road another boy asked,
'What number comes after 110? ' then,
My Angel helped me to say '111' then...
I recall my prompt on the digital clock,
11: 11 means my Angel's like 'Hitchcock'!
No matter what road I may walk along,
The presence of Angels sings like a song.
It feels like living in the Twilight Zone,
Like a good conversation on the telephone.
Sailing back from the Island was a grand tour,
I must go back to receive some more.