John F. McCullagh

(09/28/1954 / Flushing)

I am the Ball


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.
I crash down on a track of polished wood
And dizzily set off for parts unknown.
I smash into a bunch of wooden pins-
The seven and the ten I leave alone.
A spinning wheel prevents me from escape
And launches me back again to where you wait.
Though you will try your best I’d have to bet
The split I left is not one you can make.

Submitted: Sunday, October 13, 2013
Edited: Friday, October 25, 2013
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poet's Notes about The Poem

A cunning bowling ball thwarts my efforts to get a strike or a spare.

Comments about this poem (I am the Ball by John F. McCullagh )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Eternal Life, Michael McParland
  2. The Comrade's Song, Nikola Vaptsarov
  3. A Dream, Nikola Vaptsarov
  4. Spain, Nikola Vaptsarov
  5. ONE MORE ANNIVERSARY, Satish Verma
  6. A Love Song, Nikola Vaptsarov
  7. Enough Hate, Michael McParland
  8. Endless Deep Beauty, Michael McParland
  9. Electricity, Michael McParland
  10. In The Summer After "Issue Year&quo.., Roberta Hill Whiteman

Poem of the Day

poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Young Love lies sleeping
In May-time of the year,
Among the lilies,
Lapped in the tender light:
White lambs come grazing,
White doves come building there:
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]