John F. McCullagh Poems

When they walked along the trail of tears
The freedmen toted gear.
These blacks, who once were owned as slaves,
would be tribesmen, it appeared.
...

Father Mychal Judge bent down
to the woman on the floor.
His right hand made the cross in sign
like oft he had before.
...

They rose above the Clouds
as my charter passed downtown.
An April day dawning,
thirty thousand feet from ground.
...

Mary was on time, as usual.
As per usual, John was late.
“He’d be late for his own funeral! ”
Mary fumed and cursed her fate.
...

Bland and ordinary will not do,
They’re much too dull for the likes of you.
Plain Vanilla makes you snooze,
even chocolate is yesterdays news.
...

Americans, in general, are still fond of their beers-
consuming many million twelve ounce cans.
Still, when you get right to the bottom
some famous brands have been forgotten
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Its true girls come with baggage,
be she starlet or plain Jane.
The trick for guys is finding one
whose baggage they would claim.
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My point man had died where he stood.
The rest of my squad dove for cover.
My helmet had tumbled and fallen
and I clung to the ground like a lover.
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A solitary rose,
it could not understand
why it was deprived of life
by the cultivator's hand.
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When He came home from work that day
He said “Enough’s enough”.
“Let others built the widgets,
I have done that long enough.”
...