John F. McCullagh Poems

A Dentist from Weehawken was feeling miserably;
Depressed, down in the mouth, you know how that can be.
Walt thought salt air would do him good and so he went to sea.
He chartered a large fishing boat and paid a hefty fee.
...

James Holmes awaited news of his fate. (Would his madness be held to mitigate?
His terrible sin, his awful crimes; Life or Death, How to decide?)
What is Justice for multiple homicides?
He murdered twelve and injured more; Now what would the verdict hold in store?
...

It was sticky hot and humid in Ferguson that Saturday.
Just another weekend where the little leagues would play.
I was riding unit 25 looking out for petty crime.
My units radio sputtered to life: 'shots fired on Canfield drive.'
...

It is bounded by the gyre, this sea without a shore.
It once was but a sea of weeds but now there is much more.
Here are plastic bags and cups discarded thoughtlessly.
Refuse from our teeming shores comes here eventually.
...

An empty bottle of Mateus couldn’t help me drown my sorrow.
It cannot bring you back to me, and I’ll pay for this tomorrow.
All it has done is render me numb to your parting words and kiss;
a kiss goodbye, no public scene, no angry emphasis.
...

The ugly scar straight down my chest has begun to heal, and the pain is less.
Each week I walk a little more at least back and forth to the corner store.
On hot days I get short of breath and I must be careful to take my rest.
Still, I'm lucky and can’t complain about a scar and a little pain.
...

Those lovely folks at N.S.A. love reading your e-mails.
They parse each line in search of crime; the devil’s in the details.
Those Patriots at A T & T are equal to the task
of providing them with access; they’ll do anything they’re asked.
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Golden haired and handsome, Joe seemed to have it all.
He’d won a PAC 8 championship just that previous Fall.
Surely the Heisman would be his; another prize to win.
He started strongly, at least at first, but would falter at the end.
...

This was once a Jew’s apartment, here on the Konig Platz.
It must have been magnificent, before we were attacked.
I squat in an apartment whose glories are all past.
The artwork was seized off these walls and the former owner gassed.
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O’ let us lay together love
when this World’s cares are past.
My Queen I have had locked away
She was treacherous to the last.
...