John F. McCullagh
John F. McCullagh Poems
Comments about John F. McCullagh
sacred Flame (A Tale Of The Neanderthals) L
The newcomers killed my woman,
Ransacked my cave and killed my child.
My brother and I had been out hunting,
The only reason we’re still alive.
We noticed first as we drew closer
The sacred fire had gone out.
We dropped our catch and sniffed the air-
When I smelled blood I grabbed my axe.
My spirit dropped, my heart was saddened
My woman and my child lay dead
The newcomers had speared the baby
A club caved in my woman’s head.
My brother took the child to bury
I built a rock cairn for my mate
I stroked her matted hair in ...
The Man He Used To Be
He was a shadow of himself, the man I came to see.
Time had robbed him of his strength; sapped his vitality.
This man who rode the badlands, this man who'd hunted game,
leaned on his cane to greet me; In fear of why I came.
We long had been acquaintances, I wouldn't style us friends.
He was a politician, I'm a newspaperman.
I bore bad news to Sagamore Hill; He wouldn't take it well
It was ill tidings I'm afraid, that I'd been sent to tell.