John F. McCullagh Poems

I saw her just the other day,
But, not knowing what to say, I turned away.
For she has lost her only son,
off fighting in the war.
...

In this garden of stone
I reflect on my own
Of the journey that grief has imposed:
Those first sad raw days
...

I wore a gold Star.
I bear a tattoo.
When Six Million died
I was one of the few,
...

The night is still and cold and clear
As Christmas Day draws ever near.
I hear the church bells start to ring
And hear angelic Choirs sing:
...

The Fox sisters of Rochester
lived in a haunted house.
A spirit there was stirring
That was probably not a mouse.
...

The corn is crowned with flowers
as harvest's end draw near.
Men and Women, Lads and maids
all raise a rousing cheer.
...

I remember, when I was young,
Gloria Lynne and this song she sung,
She sang with perfect pitch:
I wish you Love.”
...

He was certainly buzzed,
Drunk, a better word,
When his convertibles wheel
Struck a tree near the curb..
...

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.
...