Callum J. McCready is an Irish artist temporarily based out of Fisterra, Spain, as well as travelling across Galicia. When not working by day in retail at night he moonlights as a writer.
His poetry has been published by numerous journals including A New Ulster, Bindweed Magazine, The Galway Review, has a number of projects in the works and an intention to cross over into other disciplines.
When not bound by the ball-and-chain he enjoys gardening, exercising, reading, listening to music, watching movies and spending time with family and friends.

(Thinking About 1640 Cinderella)

Sitting in Café Nero over a cup of tea and a bite to eat,
my bus was at 1642,
meaning I wouldn’t have as much time as I’d like,
and I got to thinking I was like Cinderella,
letting timetables dictate my decisions,
how there’s many people like that
just coasting,
not really living,
dragged along by a day-to-day
hand-to-mouth existence,
bound by the clock,
the frames and strictures of chromatic constraints; –

even though the bus was scheduled for 1642,
1640 sounded better syllabically with Cinderella
(six-teen-for-tee sin-der-ell-a),
so I connect the dots and take the liberty

– Cinderella obviously has romantic connotations,
so I’m thinking of a narrative poem;
about a woman,
a girl, maybe,
young love,
something like that.

It’ll come.
You can’t force it.

The Hit

(Underworld, Dark & Long)

I don’t know if it was the 500mill bottle increasing the density or if it was down to the potency of the Herman Melville-inspired substance known as
Moby Dick;
either way it was a solid high.

Ambling down to Cuckoo, we develop an awareness of the strength.

At the door we play Rock, Paper, Scissors, three losers for a £3 admittance.
I’m aware, conscious of the fact that this is a good way for doormen to
assess the prospective clientele. Field sobriety test.

After getting pints we sit in silence for minutes at a time staring into space.
When we speak or are able to we discuss the varying symptoms. One of
us is having spatial perception alternations, visually zooming in and out,
flashes of light in the dark, comical caricatures of faces, another
is experiencing hearing differences akin to partial deafness,
the other crashing out from the blaze, none too pleased
to be reminded of the time we did the same thing ‘bout
five years ago round the corner on Tate’s Avenue
for his birthday,

but I’m still buzzing. After shuffling about to Red Right Hand, despite them
wanting to go,
I
want
to
go
upstairs.

I’m given a deadline, time, ole Cinderella man has till midnight as I dance with myself, no one in particular, just coasting along with the drift
in strobe, smoke and light,
the speed of life,
not giving a damn.
Unconsciously, I
go with the
flow,

deliberately overstay my welcome, sneak down the back stairs while my friend goes up the other in search of me. Even in this state of mind I haven’t lost my prankster’s humour, laughing at things I and I alone find funny.

I don’t remember much else but it’s an experience I’ll never forget.

call you

True by Spandau Ballet comes on and everyone else
is gathered at the table outside the villa in Crete,
eating and drinking and laughing while
I lie on a lounger and smoke.

I get up on the pretence of
going to the toilet
but
go,
slowly,
step-by-step,
down the stairs
into the basement.

Taking off
my shoes and socks,
sitting on
the edge of the bed, as I put
on my flip-flips
I think about
calling you,

but the moment passes.

your smiling face

when I
close my eyes
I see

your smiling face,

your rosy cheeks,

and
it makes me think
of

the sound of your voice,
the song of your laughter,
all the lovely things in between
beginning and ending in eternity…

[1741, Friday 12th April, 2019, Crete.]

The World’s Slowest Cash Machine

“Sorry,
it’s very slow,” she says
as I stand with all my gear
on my back, waiting.

At 8.15 in
the morning
on Christmas Eve,
I get money out of
The World’s Slowest Cash Machine at Tesco Express on the Upper Newtownards Road, leaning my head against
the cold grey plastic.
Time
ceases to have meaning
when you go from
8 to 4.30
on your feet
because the town
last night
was busy and
you’ve been on
this routine,
steadily but not steady.