John F. McCullagh Poems

In a humble little cottage
in a poorer part of town.
A tea kettle was whistling,
And the rain was pouring down.
...

Back in the age of faith
when most lived in homes of sod
There lived a humble man
They called the juggler of God.
...

Here, in the depths of winter, when the earth is bare and brown,
You will notice, if you look carefully, depressions in the ground.
My guide told me that here there are about one hundred men
who served beneath the Stars and Bars and gave their lives for them.
...

A steady gentle rain had fallen throughout the night before.
Morning dawned, grey and dreary, like the butternut they wore.
A.P. Hill was on the march, speeding towards the sound,
the distant sounds of battle, as they marched through Frederick town.
...

An old and tattered Bible Is the crux of a dispute.
Bernice King has possession of what her brothers see as loot.
The book was dear to Doctor King thru trials and tribulations
And with him on the Selma march in the days that changed the nation.
...

Living on a minor planet near a very average star,
There arose a type of primate, the most inquisitive by far.
Not the strongest or the fastest of the animals on earth,
but blessed with an intelligence that quickly proved its worth.
...

I was then but middle-aged, established in my world.
She was a young ingenue, a lithe and lovely girl.
she knew about the ring I wore, the promise it contained,
but we were both the worse for drink and passions were inflamed.
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I remember so well this old oak tree.
There was a swing hung from that limb.
On bright summer days you would swing and sway
waiting for your future to begin.
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Giants set the causeway stones
between our Isle and sea.
Saint Patrick drove the snakes away
and explained the Trinity.
...

The markets up, the Markets down
For weeks it just meanders.
Alas, my stocks are always down
Each time I take a gander.
...