John F. McCullagh Poems

For years it was the seat of Love;
an all-consuming fire.
Eros was his guiding light
to which his thoughts aspired.
...

Vile stubby fingers invading all my holes,
You take my body in your chubby hands.
You swing me in an arc along your side
And violently heave me in the air.
...

The old man sat on a log near the road,
with his faithful dog right by his side.
They had been walking
on the trail through the woods
...

Here was age and here was beauty,
The nearly young and very old-
women standing, stripped stark naked
there were forty in all told.
...

It started out quite harmlessly,
some naughty mixed with nice.
Then it turned into obsession,
an addiction and a vice.
...

J.K. Rowling is the latest
to call herself a bloke.
Three Bronte sisters
Made up male names
...

He was, at home, most comfortable
in collared shirt and jeans.
Just not the sort to put on airs
Or fancy dress, it seems.
...

Two folded sheets of paper
were hidden in his stovepipe hat.
He mouthed the phrases with his lips
on the platform where they sat.
...

No, you will not hear him anymore.
belting out a Broadway score.
You would wait forever
before he walks through that door.
...

A weak and vacillating man,
one vain and narcissistic,
once drew a line upon the sand
with consequences cataclysmic.
...