John F McCullagh

John F McCullagh Jun 2018

Life

Strange to see it summed up in just a few lines.
Mary Lou Marion, the little girl of Louise and Grazio.
She went to my high school, three years behind me.
She worked here then she worked there.
She wed some man I never met and had four sons.
They lived here and they lived there.
The Grandkids were born.
She never noticed the lump on her breast;
Not until it was far too late.
It was not a bad life, Ordinary perhaps.
I will not claim to know what she believed,
Only what we had been taught.
She knew the joys and sorrows
of being a woman
She fought bravely to the end
Against the cancer that took her.

Isn’t she all of us?
Just a thought in the mind of God.

Goodbye Mary Lou

Rest in Peace

Based on the obituary of a schoolmate, one younger than myself.

John F McCullagh Jun 2018

******* Fire

It sounded, at first, like two kids fighting.
Then two hard hits brought neighbors to their doors.
Her “boyfriend” splashed the accelerant upon her
then he lite fire to her clothes.

Terrified, Screaming, she ran into the hall,
She would have died if Not for Stan.
He got a blanket wrapped tight around her
and smothered the fire with his strong hands.

Her “boyfriend” fled, that sniveling coward,
who had tried to ****** that innocent child;
His criminal rap sheet gave no indication
That attempted ****** was his style.

They say she’ll live; that ******* fire.
Her beauty stolen; it was her curse.
The “boyfriend” ought to turn himself in.
It won’t go well if I find him first.

A domestic disturbance in the Frederick Douglas public houses makes the pages of the New York Post.

John F McCullagh Jun 2018

Au coeur de l'hiver

Dans les morts de l'hiver est venu
une peur qui n'a pas donné son nom.
Une pensée dont la source ne divulguerait pas
la peur que tous ceux qui vivent le sachent.

Dans les morts de l'hiver est venu
ces jours de courte durée nous passons en vain.
La colère, de courte durée mais intense
à l'amour sans sa récompense.

Dans les morts de l'hiver est venu
un rhume froid sans nom
Maladie qui ne suivrait pas son cours
La pilule amère de notre divorce.

La boisson est la porte du désespoir
et oui, je cherchais du réconfort là-bas,
quand les voix humaines sont toutes allées encore
pour me réchauffer du froid hivernal.

Un marin doit faire face à la fin de son mariage, sa santé défaillante et sa solitude.

John F McCullagh Jun 2018

In the dead of Winter

In the dead of Winter came
a dread that did not give its name.
A thought whose source would not disclose
the fear that all those living know.

In the dead of winter came
those short lived days we pass in vain.
Anger, short lived, but intense
at Love without its recompense.

In the Dead of winter came
a bitter cold without a name
Disease that would not run its course
The bitter pill of our divorce.

Drink is the doorway to despair
and yes, I sought some comfort there,
when human voices all went still
to warm me from the Winter chill.

A Marine has to deal with the end of his marriage, his failing health and his loneliness.

John F McCullagh Jun 2018

The Pardoner’s Tale

My title is “POTUS” and America’s great.
My pardoning power can change people’s fate.
I commuted the sentence of a granny in jail
Who’d been locked up for years for a busted drug sale.
I Pardoned Jack Johnson long after he’d died,
for his crime of having a white ******* the side.

Dinesh D’Souza was an interesting case;
He defied crooked Hillary -who put him in his place.
His “Get out of Jail” card I granted with glee.
Perhaps his next movie will be about me.

I pardoned a sailor who’d fallen from grace;
He worked in a Sub and took films of the place.
I forgave Joe Arpaio and relieved his distress
at having a jail cell as his forward address.

It’s True Scooter Libby was technically free;
His sentence commuted by my peer “43”.
Now Scooter’s pardoned; absolved of his crime.
It was worth it to hear liberal Democrats whine.

It’s been said that with Russians I basely connived
to secure my election to become “45”.
If Mueller should dig up some dirt on my “crime”
I’ll just pardon myself and thank him for his time.

• Joe Arpaio, former sheriff of Maricopa County, Arizona, was convicted of contempt of court and was awaiting sentencing. Pardoned on August 25, 2017.[38]
• Sholom Rubashkin, sentenced to 27 years in prison for bank fraud. Commuted on December 20, 2017.[39]
• Kristian Saucier, convicted of unauthorized possession and retention of national defense information. Pardoned on March 9, 2018.[40]
• Lewis "Scooter" Libby, convicted of perjury and obstruction of justice in connection with the CIA leak scandal. Pardoned on April 13, 2018, following an earlier commutation by President George W. Bush in July 2007.[29][41][42]
• Jack Johnson, was convicted in 1913 for traveling with his white girlfriend by an all-white jury for violating the Mann Act, which made it illegal to transport women across state lines for "immoral" purposes. Posthumously pardoned on May 24, 2018.[43][44][45][46]
• Dinesh D'Souza, convicted of campaign finance violations. Pardoned on May 31, 2018.[47][48][49]. I am in favor of several of Trumps pardons including that of Jack Johnson. My intent was to poke fun at the Presidents notion that he can pardon himself.

John F McCullagh Jun 2018

J'ai aimé un homme

Je n'ai pas honte,
Je ne devrais pas pleurer non plus.
Parfois, dans les rêves,
Les vieux souvenirs rampent.
Les photographies vont s'estomper avec le temps
plus tôt que ces rêves.
Oui, tu m'as appris à aimer
Et oui, c'était un cadeau précieux.
Je suis l'enfant de votre vieillesse.
Maintenant, de votre présence, je suis privé.
Je m'agenouille ici par ta pierre aujourd'hui
Et pense à tout ce que j'ai perdu.
Pour faire une pause un moment, réfléchir et prier
Et je vous souhaite une bonne fête des pères.

John F McCullagh Jun 2018

Force de la nature

Sans le vent, sans la pluie
La pierre de la Terre resterait en pierre.
Le souffle de Boreas n'a-t-il pas soufflé?
pour former les canyons ici-bas?
Si ce n'est pas pour Kymopoleia et ses vagues
Y aurait-il des grottes sous-marines?
Imperceptiblement, goutte à goutte,
Les larmes du ciel peuvent conquérir le rock.
Transformer la pierre en sédiment par degré
Et retournez à la mer.
Alors aussi, mes larmes vont travailler leur art
Sur ton coeur adamantin
Et, dans leur victoire finale,
ramène ton amour à moi.