John F. McCullagh Poems

The snow was gently falling,

the gusts of wind the only sound.
...

At first I didn’t see her, .

There, half hidden in the leaves.
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When death lurked just around the corner
My wife and I were sitting at a play.
Some immigrant –American was plotting
to turn Broadway into the great red way.
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Pretty girls can always get men,

But a girl won’t forever be pretty.
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Cyber Monday is my day
to Wrap my Christmas list.
I travel down the Amazon
to find that one-click bliss.
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The community of Astronomers
mourns a colleague rare:
Brian Marsden, late of Cambridge,
The Cheery Herald of Despair.
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You say that you must check my thighs
before I’ll be allowed to fly.
Unreasonable search is one thing, friend
Bu this random groping has to end!
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Schubert’s hands have grown cold
Their mission unfulfilled
His symphony unfinished
His voice forever stilled.
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Having heard so much about nightlife,
The Sun was at pains to discover
The mysteries of the nighttime
So she pursued it around like a lover.
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When they brought him to the Hospital

He was listed as John Doe.
...