John F. McCullagh Poems

No one saw it coming,
that warm September day-
Not the workers at the pudding shack
Who mixed sweet treats for pay.
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That day stands sharp in focus
Whenever it's called to mind;
A peaceful Sunday Morning,
just before the Harvest time.
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Since the Days of Rome,
It's been well known
to the point of certainty.-
That a home that has a Julia
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Bang the pan slowly, for Freddy is dead.
Grasp the spoon firmly in hand.
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Winter is upon us
The crowds all melt away
The Yanks clear out their lockers
for an unwelcome holiday.
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Though born to a Quaker
Who would use “thee” and “Thou”
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These eyes have seen the fire from the sky
I felt the heat a thousand clicks away
At first no screams, just people turned to shadows
A sunburst touched to earth one fatal day.
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Antiseptic… white… clean….
Instruments of Stainless steel
.A lazy oscillating light
tracks my heartbeat on a screen.
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Q.E. II


If at first we don’t succeed-
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Think of it as a thirst for Truth
That can’t be quenched by dry Vermouth.
Those souls who in the bottle find
a sauce of solace for troubled minds.
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