In response to a competition to make Robbie Burns' poem Tam o'Shanter more 21st Century relevant, Peter Goulding wrote two very long poems, neither of which were deemed any good by the organisers. Includes the original poem also.

Peter Goulding has, for some reason known only to himself, decided to collate and collect many of his early attempts at comic verse. These 200 prime examples of his early work (you should see some of the dross that didn't make it into the book!)represent his 'immature' years (i.e. up to the age of 45)and have very little merit at all. Unsurprisingly, very very few of these have previously seen the light of day. Sadly for those who have not read the later poems, things don't get any better.

For eight years, Peter Goulding wrote a regular Musings column in the Community Voice, Dublin 15's newspaper of record. Quirky and humorous, they are a snapshot of life in a large suburb of Dublin during the volatile noughties, covering areas as diverse as local politics, refuse collection and Lionel Richie.

A look at the season of Christmas and winter through the medium of light verse, 'The Arse End of the Year' chronicles the build up to the festive season, the solstice, the day itself and the post-Christmas slothfulness, together with aspects of the cold and dreary winter season so beloved by, well, not many people actually. From the reindeer shaped blips on the air traffic controllers' screen, to the disappearing cheese portions; from forgetting auld acquaintance to the difficulty of burying dead bodies in frosty weather, Peter Goulding gives us a uniquely personal insight into the season in his inimitable style, not that many people would want to imitate it.

The 125 poems contained in this collection were written on sunbeds on five different sun holidays and are about the experience of going on a sun holiday. They are intended to be read while on a sun holiday. Of course you can read it over the Christmas holidays if you prefer, or on the bus into work. Your call. Some of the poems are funny, some are reflective, some stray into the area of black humour. Most of them are crap. That's life.

Peter Goulding's fourth, or maybe fifth, (who's counting?) book of comic verse again delves the murky depths of the poet's imagination. There are still plenty of poems about murdering his wife and disposing of her body but there are darker poems too - the proliferation of tomatoes on Jupiter, the birth of Princess Charlotte and his critiques of the counties of Tipperary and Offaly, to name but four. His mind, which, to be frank, would be put to much better use, learning a trade or simply vegetating, is again employed solving many of the world's problems in rhyming couplets, villanelles and other fiendish weapons of mass destruction. Comes with a cultural health warning.

239 poems about what the Americans call soccer, most of them darkly funny, some of them wistful and nostalgic, a few angry.This is the cumulation of Peter Goulding's 15 years writing football poetry.