John F. McCullagh Poems

I
The pale brunette
was asked to stand
and hear the verdict read.
...

There is a place on Goree isle-
It's call the house of slaves.
A port of call for slaver ships
whose crews no saint could save.
...

It was on this day in Thirty one,
That our City got this present;
A Douglas fir, nearly 20 feet,
in Rockefeller Center.
...

For years we've consumed
far more than we grow-
preferring to reap
what we disdained to sow.
...

He’d offered her his hand to dance
Politely, she’d declined.
“I have promised many others,
-perhaps another time.”
...

Although we were told
that casualties would be high,
still we rose up,
answering the officer's whistle-
...

A cup of cold branch water,
triple filtered, extra dry.
Bring it to a rolling boil-
in a moment you'll see why.
...

They're your uncles or your brothers;
They're the ones who fought and bled.
Theirs are the names upon this wall,
the legion of our dead.
...

The taxman owned a share of him,
To another he owed rent.
His ex-wife and her attorneys
Had a say in how he spent.
...

A Penny for my thoughts
doesn’t seem a princely sum.
It doesn’t buy much else
when all is said and done.
...