John F. McCullagh Poems

They were brothers born a year apart,
the elder just nineteen.
Folks said they were inseparable-
Unbeatable as a team..
...

Despite the wind and driving rain,
At their posts they must remain.
In woolen garb and white glove dress,
Twenty one steps, no more no less.
...

Grandfather built, with his own hands
The house we children called our home.
A fine expanse of stone and brick,
a castle that was ours alone.
...

She was likely in a drunken daze
when she wed, unknowingly.
A Vegas drive in chapel
Was the spot they did the deed.
...

It had been some years
since you and I
had shared any stage and time
but here we are
...

Twelve thirty five
three shots ring out.
The Presidents been hit.
He's dying, no doubt.
...

Her parents weren't there to cry
The day that sleeping beauty died.
First Dad, then Mother, slipped away
as their comatose daughter slept each day.
...

In the empty stands
Our champion sat.
Sans fans
and sans applause.
...

We have many faces
but we are all the same:
the drudges of existence,
the drones in life's great game.
...

They died; they all died, without a moan;
their final passage writ in stone.
Dark shadows here and there you see
where Jews passed to eternity.
...