Life is a one-horse town and I've got a boil on my bum.

Michael James Treacy

A retired septuagenarian, Michael James Treacy lives in idyllic bliss with Mrs Treaclechops and spends his time in various literary, artistic and horticultural endeavours. He has a wonky leg, a dicky ticker and a dizzy head. A working life spanning 50 years included such disciplines as soldier, sales engineer, design engineer, estimator, buyer, quality manager and project manager. He was glad of a good sit-down at the end of it all. He’s had poems and short stories published in various magazines and anthologies, and has been working on his debut sci-fi novel for about 10 years... and hopes to finish it before his 100th birthday.
mick21

Michael James Treacy is known inside the Colony as mickleinapickle

Ripening Cherries

An anthology of Japanese-style poetry

An anthology of haiku, tanka and haibun poetry published by Offa’s Press. I have three haiku featured on page 14.

This delightful anthology will draw you into another world, the minimalist world of Japanese poetic forms

The Backstory

listening to old stories... the boy's eyes flit to his iPad

For Rhino in a Shrinking World

A Poetry Anthology

An international poetry anthology published by The Poets Printery of South Africa to highlight the plight of the rhino and its environment, and to raise funds for anti-poaching units. Contributions from poets worldwide. My offering is on page 84.

The poets who have contributed to this book forcibly bring to mind the terrible plight of the rhino in the modern world.

The Backstory

In the not-too-distant future, the last wild rhino may die screaming as a poacher hacks off its living horn.

Soul Feathers

A poetry anthology to aid the work of Macmillan Cancer Support

Published by Indigo Dreams. Includes poetry by Carol Ann Duffy, Bob Dylan, Maya Angelou, Seamus Heaney, Sharon Olds, Leonard Cohen, Benjamin Zephaniah… and on page 196, a poem by some bloke called Michael James Treacy.

Soul Feathers is a book full of hope and high art which restores all faith in poetry. It is full of beautiful writing which relates directly to human experience.

The Backstory

‘Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all’ by Emily Dickinson

21st Century Song of Summer

     It’s sobering to think that while summer is celebrated in some parts of the world with music festivals, sporting tournaments, flower shows, fringe...
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In The Summertime

In the early seventies, I had a semi-Afro hairstyle and a shaggy beard. . I thought I looked like the lead singer of Mungo Jerry,...
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The World Has Missed You

     May 2021… COVID lockdown restrictions had eased, so Mrs Treaclechops and I headed to the Isle of Wight for a few days. The...
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Nobody Else’s Girl

I fell in love in Glasgow: green eyes and shiny brown hair. It was the evocative way she said, “Aye, ye’ll dae fur th’ noo,...
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Her Beautiful Smile

Abandoned in a shopping bag in a public toilet . loneliness beyond comprehension. . Profoundly disabled . physically mentally . deaf blind . loneliness beyond...
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One Day in April

     Thinking back to 2022… a quartet of grandchildren: Jack (nine years), Jacob (eight years), James (six years) and Sophie (four years) came for...
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Merlin

A carved wooden statue of Merlin stands in Carmarthen town centre. A mythical Celtic shaman, he was a constant in British folklore between the 5th...
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Bonnie Bethany

She found a shilling down the back of the sofa and gambled it on a horse called ‘Bonnie Bethany’ in the 5th race at Carlisle....
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Don’t Call On Me

Cold winds blow through city streets as winter’s grip takes hold and grey souls in downbeat worlds retreat to lies untold. . Rain-lashed pavements now...
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After 65 Decembers

In August, he smiled at the memories of 65 Decembers, and put away his razor. . The ruddy complexion, jovial disposition, and expanded waistline where...
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Christina

At first encounter, she slapped my backside and declared, “I don’t recognise that bottom!” . Then she skipped away on one of her missions to...
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About It All Again

     Thinking back to December 1973... a village called Oberjoch (over the hill) in the Bavarian Alps. Six feet of snow! I was learning...
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