John F. McCullagh
Some pictures hang upon my wall
Of baseball players from the past-
Gionfriddo’s catch of DiMaggio’s ball-
Lou Gehrig standing at the mike-
Babe Ruth pitching in the Bronx-
And the one place that links them all.
They happened at the lumberyard
The place on River Avenue
The place where Bombers came to play
Now sad, diminished, and by Fall-
a victim of the wrecking ball.
One other theme is intertwined
Within the pictures on my wall
Each enshrines the final time
These men enjoyed a curtain call..
Babe was pitching his last time
The season ender (33’)
He never pitched another game
A complete game shutout
Against the Sox.
Gehrig speaking at the mike
A hot July 4th holiday
At home plate for the final time
He stood on the unaccustomed side
Gionfriddo’s speed won the game
By making his miraculous catch
But next day he sat on the bench
And never played a game again
How bittersweet these moments are
for a scrub or a superstar
To know, at last, you’ve reached the end
To still have done the best you can.
Their time has passed, these men have died
And now their park has seen its day
I’ve only photographs to show
Perfection never fades away.
John F. McCullagh's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Faded Photographs by John F. McCullagh )
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Blackberry-Picking, Seamus Heaney
- Disabled, Wilfred Owen
- The Solitary Reaper, William Wordsworth
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
- Heather Burns
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)