John F. McCullagh

Silver Star - 3,672 Points (09/28/1954 / Flushing)

In The National Gallery - Poem by John F. McCullagh

Here, in the pale light of a winter’s day
I entered with a sketch pad in my hand.
I never dreamed that I’d encounter you-
To sketch out some old master was my plan.

Was it your eyes that first seduced me near,
or those cherry lips that I would never taste?
Two centuries past you were a beauty, dear.
Now, all but this image, time has lain to waste.

I envy him who painted you in camera,
together in your sitting room alone.
Who knows just how the session was concluded
If your old and senile husband wasn’t home?

I’m cast here in the role of a voyeur,
I haven’t even tried to draw a line.
Your dress of silk reveals just one bare shoulder,
Your eyes, the promise of a night divine.

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Comments about In The National Gallery by John F. McCullagh

  • (5/3/2011 12:47:00 PM)


    Great poem with a lot of wisdom. Wonderfully written. Great imagery.
    Fine poetics.
    A big...10
    Thanks for sharing.....
    Please read and rate my poem 'A humble complaint' on page 2
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 4, 2011


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