On a Sunday Morning Sidewalk
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
in a brief, refreshing, rain
I awaken, quite hung over,
My eyes closed against the pain.
The fresh mowed grass of someone's lawn
Damp with the morning dew
Reminds the brain cells I have left
that last night I downed a few.
A dark figure now looms over me-
Is it there to damn or save?
No it's just the barkeeps Labrador
as he gives my face a lave.
I was nearly frightened sober -
And I was still drunk with Grog-
I'd prefer a friendly Saint Bernard
bringing a 'hair of the dog.'
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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Black Friday, the shopping poem
The people crowd the entrances
at Malls all over town.
To seize the choicest bargain deals,
They'd gladly knock you down.
The retailers all hold their breath
as shopping gets in gear.
Will Santa fill his sleigh as hoped?
-or lay off more Reindeer?
There are plastic toys from China
colored with suspicious paint.
Whip out your last credit card
(-when you see the bills, you'll faint.)
"The children must have Christmas! "
No request will be denied.
Never mind your youngest child
has just turned thirty five.
Don't forget a gift for you
Don't you deserve the best?
Shopping is such good therapy
for the financially depressed
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Don'tAsk, Don't Tell
My buddy always had my back
While on Rotation in Iraq.
Now I hear, back in the States,
He trolls truck rest stops for his “dates”
Don’t ask, Don’t Tell
Do tell, don’t care.
They’ll drive us poor grunts to despair.
But folks in Congress just don’t care.
It didn’t matter in Iraq
If some soldier was a little WAC
He still fought against Al Qaida
while dreaming of a gay all- nighter.
Some men prefer the fairer sex,
some women do as well
Some soldiers lust for Derriere
Which ones? Don’t ask, Don’t tell.
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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On This, the Last Night of Our World
On this, the Last night of our world
We, together, naked, lay
Upstairs in your parents house
in the middle of the day.
Our ship has sailed- and without us
Future joys now chimeras
and your oft mischievous eyes
are brimful with incipient tears.
Our intercourse, just whispers, there
Your hand rests casually on my thigh
Although you are warm to my touch
I spurn the urge to spend and die.
Another love has staked its claim
A shadow cast upon our sun
This parting will forever last
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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Yellow Brick Road
When Dorothy trod the paths of Oz
Her companions were deficient:
One lacked Courage,
One lacked brains,
One was heartless, but
Ax Proficient.
She was an illegal alien,
from Kansas, of all
places!
Imagine, when she and
Toto came-
the look on people’s faces.
Still that was seventy years ago.,
In another place and time-
Just before we went to war
against evil personified.
If Dorothy, today, appeared
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Visit
I went to visit you the other day,
a bunch of fresh cut flowers in my hand.
I only had a little time to spend-
Still you, I think, were glad to have me there.
I spoke about my troubles in your presence
You listen with an ever patient ear
You remind me that all trials are transient
That nothing dries as quickly as a tear.
Now that you and Mom are back together-
I can’t believe already it’s a year-
As often happens with long married hearts.
Does nothing dry as quickly as a tear?
With pain, I raise myself up from my knee
I say farewell with none around to hear
It’s just a lie we tell ourselves, my Da
That nothing dries as quickly as a tear.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Cheery Herald of Despair
The community of Astronomers
mourns a colleague rare:
Brian Marsden, late of Cambridge,
The Cheery Herald of Despair.
His group tracked rocks
that threaten shocks
to Earth’s Blue biosphere.
He would be first to sound alarms
when asteroids’ ventured near.
His work for the Smithsonian
Tracked wanderers in the sky.
He Predicted paths for comets
Calculating their flybys.
Working with a shoestring budget
And a small but gallant crew.
When others wondered what was up
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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A year ago today, the 9/11 poem
It was a year ago today
Twin towers built of steel and stone
Still stood beside the water’s edge
To greet the final morning dawn
It was a year ago today
Some Saudi’s bent on suicide
Commandeered a flock of planes
And human reason crucified
It was a year ago today
That wingless angels sought to fly
From the upper stories strewn with glass
To flee the fires of hell they tried
It was a year ago today
When dust and darkness reigned at noon
As glaring spotlights pierced the night
Stone by stone we searched the ruins
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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Immortal Me
Some writers strive, through poetry,
to gain immortal fame.
Still Shakespeare lacks our company
And trees have died in vain.
Disney put himself on ice
Ted left his head behind
But Cryogenics leaves me cold-
Not what I had in mind.
A computer genius friend of mine
Said he could turn the trick-
Immortalizing me on line
with just a few mouse clicks.
By the grace of cloud computing
He’d record what makes me tick
Thus I’d remain accessible
when I’m no longer quick.
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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To See, Again, the Stars
The cold was penetrating
within their shattered room.
Grandmother was bedridden
She could not be moved.
Her sixteen year old Grandson
Brought food that he had scrounged
For nine days they were trapped there,
buried beneath the mound.
All around the cries grew weaker,
Fainter, fainter then died down….
For nine days they were buried
In the wreckage of their home.
They were the sole survivors
Enduring there alone.
His father never gave up hope
That they would be found alive.
Their rescue made news worldwide
It was tears of joy he cried.
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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