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Jan 2019 · 188
This one’s not for you
John F McCullagh Jan 2019
Sam Adams beer masters see there’s trouble brewing:
This governmental shutdown is nothing of their doing.
Still, their beer is piling up in barrels on the floor.
For without Federal approval beer cannot be sold, by law.
They crafted a delicious brew for bottles and for cans,
But, due to the political climate change, they must make other plans.
They’re stuck with vats of golden brew, the nectar of the gods
But this shutdowns ending no time soon, per the bookies who quote odds
To prevent their beers from going stale while the politicians clash
They’re paying the workers by the ounce in lieu of paying cash.
Beer is piling up in the warehouses of Samuel Adam's Boston beer company. Apparently the Federal government beer inspectors are on hiatus.

How do I get that job?
John F McCullagh Jan 2019
It was tough to be dumped by Lucille.
Ruby left when I was down on my luck,
but this? This I never suspected-
I’ve been left by my self- driving truck.

They had a good laugh at the Dealer
where I went to complain of my fate.
They said I forgot where I parked you.
But I’m sure that you drove out of State

I thought that a Ford was dependable.
Now I am stranded and stuck.
My F-150 ran off with my G.P.S.
I’ve been left by my self -driving Truck.

I’ve survived the blues caused by women,
who said my love wasn’t enough-
But, dogoneit!! - I’m still making payments
I’ve been left by my self-driving truck.
A Texan is distraught when his autonomous vehicle drives off and leaves him.
Jan 2019 · 533
The Paraplegic
John F McCullagh Jan 2019
I awakened to a horror in which I couldn’t feel my feet.
In traction, in a hospital room, I drifted in and out of sleep.
I’d retain some feeling in my hands, yes, my fingers moved.
So I’d be a paraplegic if my condition won’t improve.

I can’t recall the accident.  Some call me fortunate.
Yes, I survived the crash; but I wouldn’t choose this fate.
For some weeks I was in a coma. The other driver’s dead.
Some days found me wishing that he was here instead.

They say I’ll never walk again. I’ll be sentenced to this chair.
I fight for my independence; the only remedy for despair.
I must cultivate new interests; I’ll no longer run and play.
Fate has cast long shadows upon the middle of my day.

You’ll find me in my garden now, when days are dry and fair.
I can still tend to my roses, even working from this chair.
They once were ornamental and seldom on my mind;
Now their careful cultivation is what gives meaning to my time.

They blossom in profusion in a riot of color here.
I have a little greenhouse and I work sheer magic there.
These petals, pink and delicate, are salve to my troubled mind.
They give me peace and an escape from all I left behind.
A man, after a tragic accident, decides to follow Voltaire's advice and tend to his garden.
Jan 2019 · 204
The Crater
John F McCullagh Jan 2019
The battlefield was a moonscape; craters here and there.
They were grateful to find cover, what with snipers everywhere.
Jack and his buddies hunkered down despite the cold and wet .
Time to share a cigarette and give voice to their regrets.

Jimmy  left a girl back home he'd planned to make his wife.
Arthur came from money; once home he's set for life.
There was this one small problem; the foe still in the field.
Human flesh cannot resist the penetrating steel.

Jack imagined being home, once the war was through.
His girl was not some beauty Queen, but at least her heart was true.
All around their sinecure the guns, like thunder, roared.
Jack felt the terror clutch his throat, and he'd been scared before.

That was where we found them, in that cratered pit.
At least they all died quickly, slaughtered by a lucky hit.
Our Sarge would add their dog tags to others he had found.
Western Union made a nice  profit here upon this battleground.
Three G.I's  fighting outside Metz long for the lives they had back home
John F McCullagh Jan 2019
Were there skeletons in her closet?
Did he meet another ghoul?
Was he in it for her *****?
Was she a loving trusting fool?

Some say she’s a gold digger,
was In it for his buried treasure.
She had no body to go out with
and relied on herself for pleasure.

Anyway, they’ve call it off,
renounced their wedded bliss.
The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak
And so its come to this
Sequel to woman marries ghost of three hundred year old Pirate
Jan 2019 · 239
A Dented Can
John F McCullagh Jan 2019
As I wander along this lonely road
a wintry chill invades my coat.
I need this time to mediate
on the consequences of my vote.

As I gave thought of Right and Left
my footfall struck a rusty can.
I stopped and stooped to pick it up
and contemplated the object in my hand.

The can was a heavily dented can
that had been kicked down this road so long
It seemed its' second nature now
to absorb our kicks like nothing's wrong.

It once was shiny bright and new;
a wondrous work of human hand.
Now a rusty dented thing-
Its sad fate now I understand.

"The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity. " said Yeats.
They are a venial, grasping group of thieves
We put in charge to decide our fates.

In my short time the world has changed
in ways we scarcely understand.
We have failed to act to avoid destruction.
This road is strewn with dented cans.
The quote at the beginning of stanza 5 is from "The Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats.
John F McCullagh Jan 2019
Dearest creature in creation
Studying English pronunciation,
   I will teach you in my verse
   Sounds like corpse, corps, horse and worse.

I will keep you, Susy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy;
   Tear in eye, your dress you'll tear;
   Queer, fair seer, hear my prayer.

Pray, console your loving poet,
Make my coat look new, dear, sew it!
   Just compare heart, hear and heard,
   Dies and diet, lord and word.

Sword and sward, retain and Britain
(Mind the latter how it's written).
   Made has not the sound of bade,
   Say-said, pay-paid, laid but plaid.

Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as vague and ague,
   But be careful how you speak,
   Say: gush, bush, steak, streak, break, bleak ,

Previous, precious, fuchsia, via
Recipe, pipe, studding-sail, choir;
   Woven, oven, how and low,
   Script, receipt, shoe, poem, toe.

Say, expecting fraud and trickery:
Daughter, laughter and Terpsichore,
   Branch, ranch, measles, topsails, aisles,
   Missiles, similes, reviles.

Wholly, holly, signal, signing,
Same, examining, but mining,
   Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
   Solar, mica, war and far.

From "desire": desirable-admirable from "admire",
Lumber, plumber, bier, but brier,
   Topsham, brougham, renown, but known,
   Knowledge, done, lone, gone, none, tone,

One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel.
   Gertrude, German, wind and wind,
   Beau, kind, kindred, queue, mankind,

Tortoise, turquoise, chamois-leather,
Reading, Reading, heathen, heather.
   This phonetic labyrinth
   Gives moss, gross, brook, brooch, ninth, plinth.

Have you ever yet endeavoured
To pronounce revered and severed,
   Demon, lemon, ghoul, foul, soul,
   Peter, petrol and patrol?

Billet does not end like ballet;
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
   Blood and flood are not like food,
   Nor is mould like should and would.

Banquet is not nearly parquet,
Which exactly rhymes with khaki.
   Discount, viscount, load and broad,
   Toward, to forward, to reward,

Ricocheted and crocheting, croquet?
Right! Your pronunciation's OK.
   Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
   Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Is your r correct in higher?
Keats asserts it rhymes Thalia.
   Hugh, but hug, and hood, but hoot,
   Buoyant, minute, but minute.

Say abscission with precision,
Now: position and transition;
   Would it tally with my rhyme
   If I mentioned paradigm?

Twopence, threepence, tease are easy,
But cease, crease, grease and greasy?
   Cornice, nice, valise, revise,
   Rabies, but lullabies.

Of such puzzling words as nauseous,
Rhyming well with cautious, tortious,
   You'll envelop lists, I hope,
   In a linen envelope.

Would you like some more? You'll have it!
Affidavit, David, davit.
   To abjure, to perjure. Sheik
   Does not sound like Czech but ache.

Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, loch, moustache, eleven.
   We say hallowed, but allowed,
   People, leopard, towed but vowed.

Mark the difference, moreover,
Between mover, plover, Dover.
   Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
   Chalice, but police and lice,

Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
   Petal, penal, and canal,
   Wait, surmise, plait, promise, pal,

Suit, suite, ruin. Circuit, conduit
Rhyme with "shirk it" and "beyond it",
   But it is not hard to tell
   Why it's pall, mall, but Pall Mall.

Muscle, muscular, gaol, iron,
Timber, climber, bullion, lion,
   Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
   Senator, spectator, mayor,

Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
Has the a of drachm and hammer.
   *****, ***** and possess,
   Desert, but desert, address.

Golf, wolf, countenance, lieutenants
Hoist in lieu of flags left pennants.
   Courier, courtier, tomb, bomb, comb,
   Cow, but Cowper, some and home.

"Solder, soldier! Blood is thicker",
Quoth he, "than liqueur or liquor",
   Making, it is sad but true,
   In bravado, much ado.

Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
   Pilot, pivot, gaunt, but aunt,
   Font, front, wont, want, grand and grant.

Arsenic, specific, scenic,
Relic, rhetoric, hygienic.
   Gooseberry, goose, and close, but close,
   Paradise, rise, rose, and dose.

Say inveigh, neigh, but inveigle,
Make the latter rhyme with eagle.
   Mind! Meandering but mean,
   Valentine and magazine.

And I bet you, dear, a penny,
You say mani-(fold) like many,
   Which is wrong. Say rapier, pier,
   Tier (one who ties), but tier.

Arch, archangel; pray, does erring
Rhyme with herring or with stirring?
   Prison, bison, treasure trove,
   Treason, hover, cover, cove,

Perseverance, severance. Ribald
Rhymes (but piebald doesn't) with nibbled.
   Phaeton, paean, gnat, ghat, gnaw,
   Lien, psychic, shone, bone, pshaw.

Don't be down, my own, but rough it,
And distinguish buffet, buffet;
   Brood, stood, roof, rook, school, wool, boon,
   Worcester, Boleyn, to impugn.

Say in sounds correct and sterling
Hearse, hear, hearken, year and yearling.
   Evil, devil, mezzotint,
   Mind the z! (A gentle hint.)

Now you need not pay attention
To such sounds as I don't mention,
   Sounds like pores, pause, pours and paws,
   Rhyming with the pronoun yours;

Nor are proper names included,
Though I often heard, as you did,
   Funny rhymes to unicorn,
   Yes, you know them, Vaughan and Strachan.

No, my maiden, coy and comely,
I don't want to speak of Cholmondeley.
   No. Yet Froude compared with proud
   Is no better than McLeod.

But mind trivial and vial,
Tripod, menial, denial,
   Troll and trolley, realm and ream,
   Schedule, mischief, schism, and scheme.

Argil, gill, Argyll, gill. Surely
May be made to rhyme with Raleigh,
   But you're not supposed to say
   Piquet rhymes with sobriquet.

Had this invalid invalid
Worthless documents? How pallid,
   How uncouth he, couchant, looked,
   When for Portsmouth I had booked!

Zeus, Thebes, Thales, Aphrodite,
Paramour, enamoured, flighty,
   Episodes, antipodes,
   Acquiesce, and obsequies.

Please don't monkey with the geyser,
Don't peel 'taters with my razor,
   Rather say in accents pure:
   Nature, stature and mature.

Pious, impious, limb, climb, glumly,
Worsted, worsted, crumbly, dumbly,
   Conquer, conquest, vase, phase, fan,
   Wan, sedan and artisan.

The th will surely trouble you
More than r, ch or w.
   Say then these phonetic gems:
   Thomas, thyme, Theresa, Thames.

Thompson, Chatham, Waltham, Streatham,
There are more but I forget 'em-
   Wait! I've got it: Anthony,
   Lighten your anxiety.

The archaic word albeit
Does not rhyme with eight-you see it;
   With and forthwith, one has voice,
   One has not, you make your choice.

Shoes, goes, does *. Now first say: finger;
Then say: singer, ginger, linger.
   Real, zeal, mauve, gauze and gauge,
   Marriage, foliage, mirage, age,

Hero, heron, query, very,
Parry, tarry fury, bury,
   Dost, lost, post, and doth, cloth, loth,
   Job, Job, blossom, *****, oath.

Faugh, oppugnant, keen oppugners,
Bowing, bowing, banjo-tuners
   Holm you know, but noes, canoes,
   Puisne, truism, use, to use?

Though the difference seems little,
We say actual, but victual,
   Seat, sweat, chaste, caste, Leigh, eight, height,
   Put, nut, granite, and unite.

****** does not rhyme with deafer,
Feoffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
   Dull, bull, Geoffrey, George, ate, late,
   Hint, pint, senate, but sedate.

Gaelic, Arabic, pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific;
   Tour, but our, dour, succour, four,
   Gas, alas, and Arkansas.

Say manoeuvre, yacht and *****,
Next omit, which differs from it
   Bona fide, alibi
   Gyrate, dowry and awry.

Sea, idea, guinea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
   Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean,
   Doctrine, turpentine, marine.

Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion with battalion,
   Rally with ally; yea, ye,
   Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, key, quay!

Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, receiver.
   Never guess-it is not safe,
   We say calves, valves, half, but Ralf.

Starry, granary, canary,
Crevice, but device, and eyrie,
   Face, but preface, then grimace,
   Phlegm, phlegmatic, ***, glass, bass.

Bass, large, target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, oust, joust, and scour, but scourging;
   Ear, but earn; and ere and tear
   Do not rhyme with here but heir.

Mind the o of off and often
Which may be pronounced as orphan,
   With the sound of saw and sauce;
   Also soft, lost, cloth and cross.

Pudding, puddle, putting. Putting?
Yes: at golf it rhymes with shutting.
   Respite, spite, consent, resent.
   Liable, but Parliament.

Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew, Stephen,
   Monkey, donkey, clerk and ****,
   Asp, grasp, wasp, demesne, cork, work.

A of valour, vapid vapour,
S of news (compare newspaper),
   G of gibbet, gibbon, gist,
   I of antichrist and grist,

Differ like diverse and divers,
Rivers, strivers, shivers, fivers.
   Once, but *****, toll, doll, but roll,
   Polish, Polish, poll and poll.

Pronunciation-think of Psyche!-
Is a paling, stout and spiky.
   Won't it make you lose your wits
   Writing groats and saying "grits"?

It's a dark abyss or tunnel
Strewn with stones like rowlock, gunwale,
   Islington, and Isle of Wight,
   Housewife, verdict and indict.

Don't you think so, reader, rather,
Saying lather, bather, father?
   Finally, which rhymes with enough,
   Though, through, bough, cough, hough, sough, tough??

Hiccough has the sound of sup...
My advice is: GIVE IT UP!
Not one of mine but I thought it a fun look at our funny language
Jan 2019 · 187
Ultima Thule
John F McCullagh Jan 2019
The New Horizons spacecraft, after more than a decade in space,
came upon Ultima Thule- the far point, to date, in the race.
She’ll be sending back photos and data to mission control here on Earth.
Then she’s off to explore and, possibly, learn how a primordial dust cloud gave birth.
It’s an excellent use of our money, exploring the Heliopause.

Just be sure to call home when you’re out there alone
and obey any posted speed laws
Latest news from the Kuiper belt and the Oort cloud
Dec 2018 · 148
From Sunrise to Sunset
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
As the Priest approached the lectern,
there were sobs  and audible sighs.
The church was filled with mourners
of a friend to young to die.

Farewell, my brother, said the priest.
He comforted all who wept.
He read from the gospel about Lazarus
who the Lord had freed from Death.

Some there were surely comforted,
while others doubted yet.
It was sad for all who'd known him
from Sunrise to Sunset
Dec 2018 · 752
Left Behind
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
The Jupiter is on the launchpad.
The count down  is proceeding smooth.
On board there's a crew of robots;
for Man there is no room.

Yes, those androids look like us;
and, once, there was a time
when human Scientists themselves
designed some android minds.

Now AI has progressed so far
that circumstance demands
that the designers of this crew for space
must have titanium hands.

This crew will never tire.
they need no food to eat.
Radiation that would **** a man
they'll easily defeat.

The distances in space are vast
at even half the speed of light.
This robot crew will long  endure
after my last good night.

There are headed for Tau Ceti.
Exoplanets there abound.
They'll transmit their data findings
to those here on the ground.

I worry for Posterity;
Fear clouds my troubled mind.
Once  our species were explorers
now we're  forever left behind.
A bit of Science fiction about the launch of the Jupiter 1 exoplanet explorer
Dec 2018 · 184
Mama Doe 12_24_1985
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
It was a cold night, that Christmas Eve.
Freezing in fact.
Grand Central’s hard wooden benches would not entice many,
But to the old woman, Mama Doe, it was
as close to the Ritz as she could get.

How long she had been out on the streets? Who knew?
She was old, sick and living on the margins.
The officer who moved her along
From the Grand Central waiting room
was, no doubt, just following orders.

It was a cold night, that Christmas Eve.
Freezing in fact.
Mama Doe’s Lungs were filled with fluids.
Perhaps she could have been saved.
Perhaps, if only she wore silks and furs instead of rags.
She made it as far as morning.
She crawled to her final resting place,
Bench number nine at Grand Central Station.

A little while later another officer came along
He rattled Mama doe’s favorite bench with his night stick
It was just a friendly wake up call by the standards of the day.

Mama Doe did not wake up, nor would she, until,
perhaps, the day when Gabriel blows his horn.
The death of the homeless woman known as Mama Doe on 12/25/85 resulted in changes in NYC policy regarding the homeless population in times of extreme cold. For Mama Doe change came too late.
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
A terrible year it was, in everyone’s eyes.
A King and a Prince many loved had both died.
In the Cities there were riots; in the land, discontent-
In Vietnam our money and blood were ill-spent.
So as that year ended, to no one’s surprise,
We all seemed more than happy to bid it goodbye.

Then from the firmament on that Christmas Eve
Word came from Heaven to grant us reprieve.
A quotation from Genesis was read on the air,
much to the dismay of Miss Murray O’Hare.

Then the image that grabbed us, that could not be forgot
The image of Earthrise as a little blue dot
A remnant of Eden, from which mankind was expelled
A beautiful picture of the Earth where we dwell .

The planet seemed peaceful when viewed from afar
And all that seemed missing was a bright guiding star.
King_ martin Luther King,   Prince Robert F. Kennedy
Miss Murray- O'Hare- leader of Atheist group Madeline Murray-O'Hara


The astronauts Lowell Borman and Anders read the first 10 verses from the KJV of the bible
Dec 2018 · 138
SOLSTICE
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
I lie in bed and silently listen to the wind and pouring rain.
Yesterday brought darkness early, I know today will be the same.
Winter has us in its grasp working to impose its will,
But, even on this shortest day, there’s cause for optimism still.
For, from now on, in our annual journey
Our lands will tilt towards our star.
Though this day be one of maximum darkness
Brighter days cannot be far
Dark days need optimism
Dec 2018 · 243
The Face
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
Always lurking in the shadows where fear and loathing grows,
Cancer never has a face until it takes someone you know.
You see good days and bad days, from now until the end,
When  Cancer makes a shadow of a loved one or a friend.
Platelets are important, and anemia threatens too,
as Oncologists and their ilk are radiating you.
Chemotherapy and surgery; the physicians cut and burn,
The cost of all these treatments? - Every penny that you’ve earned.
If lucky, she will make it through and be called a survivor.
If unlucky, there’s a DNR and they will not revive her.
Grandma is fighting the good fight against the implacable foe.
Dec 2018 · 259
Happy birthday in Heaven
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
I don’t suppose they will have a cake,
The years mean nothing now.
You’ve long since ran your victory lap,
You kept that wedding vow.
You led, like us, an imperfect life
But that didn’t keep you down.
You’ve exchanged corruptible mortal flesh
for a celestial crown.
You and Mom are together again
with your parents and all your brethren
Oh, what a joyous event it must be
To celebrate your birthday in Heaven.
A commemoration of my father's 120th birthday. I never met a better man, especially not in a mirror.
Dec 2018 · 315
Wrecking Ball
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
This was a place of happy memories;
some sad ones, also, I recall.
It was a detached frame colonial
and, as such, doomed to fall.                                                            ­                                

Our old neighborhood was changing,
multi-families all the rage.
The zoning laws permitted it,
it was time to turn the page.

A new brick building has replaced
the home my parents made.
They've carted off the remnants
Not a single scrap remains.

The new building doesn't interest me,
It's the old walls I recall.
I felt as if my own chest caved in
when they felt the wrecking ball.
Dec 2018 · 479
Cheryl and her she shed
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
My husband never liked it- he'd ***** moan and complain,
but it was my place of solitude, being Queen of my domain.
I spent happy hours there, just puttering  in my shed
I had a stash of bourbon there and some intriguing reds.

How the fire started we have never ascertained.
I still suspect my husband, but he'll never take the blame
He says it was a lightening strike that burned it to the ground
but can't explain the empty can of kerosene I found.

Though of suspicious origin, our insurance man came through
accepting tales of lightening strikes out of a sky clear blue.
I'll built my next she shed with brick and you can rest assured
that, no matter what the cost, it's gonna be insured.
Dec 2018 · 474
The Day we say Goodbye
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
I knew it without knowing; I cannot tell you why.
I sensed that this would be the day that we would say goodbye.
The doctor in in lab coat had played this scene before.
He used the term “metastasis “as he told me the score.
I asked if I could be with you as you faced the end
He said “of course, it’s better if the pet is with their friend.
He promised me there’d be no pain; just a pinch and then
My Labrador would drift to sleep and to his final end.
I kept a brave face for Boots sake; He shouldn’t see me cry.
The hardest part of having a pet is the day we say goodbye.
I was ten when we had to put "Boots" down.
Dec 2018 · 314
From the ashes
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
In wind and flame a forest dies,
But from the ashes she shall rise.
From pine cones opened by the heat
The trees ****** victory from defeat.
Among the embers fading glow
Seeds take root and soon will grow.
Surely conifers shall rise
and, evergreen,reach for the sky.
Like the Phoenix bird of legend
They rise anew to strive for heaven
Thoughts on the devastating forest  fires in the Pacific Northwest
Dec 2018 · 178
If Tommorow
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
If, tomorrow,You ask for me
and find that I have gone.
If some unwelcome guest arrived
and joined their hand to mine.
Think of me as if I'm asleep
and comfortably at home.
Please, do not grieve excessively
that you've been left alone.
Instead remember you are loved
beyond this veil of tears.
above all else remember me
and I am ever near.
Dec 2018 · 156
Fallen Leaves
John F McCullagh Dec 2018
The past may be a beautiful place, but, correct me, if I’m wrong-
all those who try to live there cannot remain for very long.

Your long and lovely auburn hair as you turned to give a kiss;
Yes, it only is in memory, but it still can warm a night like this.

I no longer am that strong young man who held you for that kiss.
In truth we parted years ago. My fault, I must confess.

I think about you often, though, and how you brought this heart delight
As fallen leaves recess in pools of light

in the lonely hours of the night
She could kiss like no other.
Nov 2018 · 322
Gibraltar
John F McCullagh Nov 2018
There once was a man from Gibraltar
who was deathly afraid of the altar
Then a girl, sweet and round,
by Cupid was found.

Now she leads him around with a halter.
John F McCullagh Nov 2018
For Three years we had been used as slaves,
since surrendering to the Japanese.
We’d been starved, beaten and abused
and lived in filth and misery.

We’d heard they planned to **** us all
once it was clear they’d lose the war.
We’d lived in fear, like Damocles,
waiting for the day Japan would fall.

Then came the news of Victory
and our tormentors disappeared.
More eager, then, to save themselves
Than carry out the order we had feared.

Beneath my bunk a treasure hid,
concealed there from the Japanese.
It was saved from the fall of Singapore,
then passed through several hands to me.

We struck down their flag, the rising sun,
for we were sure their sun had set.
We replaced it with the Stars and Stripes,
Around that banner we rallied yet.

Hearts filled with pride, we stood as men
and saluted the red white and blue.
We were like scarecrows dressed in rags,
but we knew that this ordeal was through.

Our air force dropped us food supplies
and shortly after we entrained.
We’d made a bonfire of the camp
to consume the memory of our pain.
(Japan did not abide by the provisions of the Geneva Convention regarding prisoners of War. The captured Americans, British and Australian servicemen were used as slaves, poorly fed and subject to regular beating and abuse from the guards.
Approximately thirty five percent of the Prisoners of war held by the Japanese died from starvation disease and exposure. In some documented instances the Japanese committed mass ****** of prisoners to prevent their rescue by advancing allied forces
Nov 2018 · 1.6k
The great Gummy Bear war
John F McCullagh Nov 2018
the mood is the office was troubled that day.
On each other's nerves- they'd be hell to pay.
Someone brought in gummy bears in a big sack.
It all seemed so innocent until the attack.

The boss got it first; a gummy bear in the ear.
from his overworked minions it brought forth a cheer.
Then he and his partner got a hand in the sack.
There would be hell to pay as the empire struck back.

His aim was unerring as he spun to attack
there were gummy bears everywhere, being tossed fro and back
Poor Anita the admin got one stuck in her hair.
and some colorful critters were stuck under her chair.

The air was soon thick with those small gummy treats
(the five second rule was used for ones that we'd eat.)
All sense of decorum had vanished that day.
As ten 50 year olds got lost in their play.

It was very cathartic as you can imagine
as so called adults got to play with abandon.
The a truce was declared and we all felt contrition
because we had eaten all the ammunition.
based on a true story
John F McCullagh Nov 2018
In the Presidential Palace, the steaks are served up seared.
There’s an excellent wine cellar for meals expertly prepared.
The Palace is cool in summer; in winter it's toasty warm,
And Maduro and his spouse are always safe and free from harm.

In the streets of Venezuela there is anger and despair.
Inflation is the problem but why should Maduro care.
The store shelves are nearly empty; most people live in fear
There is ****** done in daylight and the sense that chaos nears.

This was once a beautiful, Prosperous land, the envy of the South.
Then a populist Socialist came to drive investors out.
Now a nation, resource rich, has been importing oil,
a nation whose own oil reserves are the greatest in the world.

His critics?- dead or imprisoned; the media is controlled
There’s no term limits on his rule. Voters do as they are told.
Demonstrators, even peaceful, can be shot down in the street
While Maduro sips his wine and decides what next  he’ll have to eat.
Venezuela  had it all: a fine seaport, a wealth of oil and natural resources and a beautiful Capital.   Today you would not want to go thee on vacation. A populist movement morphed into a Socialist dictatorship. Socialism always tends towards dictatorship in the end. It is very nice for the people in power, for the serfs- not so much.
Nov 2018 · 154
Eleven Eleven Eighteen
John F McCullagh Nov 2018
Twas a century ago that the last shell was shot.
"The War to end War"- but that part we forgot.
What puzzles me now is what puzzled some then-
Why the guns kept on firing right till the end?
What purpose was served by killing yet more?
Why more fodder for cannons on the last day of war?
Must all shells be used up; could not one be saved,
Were they competing to put the last man in his grave?
It didn't make sense from beginning to end
God help us if ever we do that again!
Nov 2018 · 194
The Burial Detail
John F McCullagh Nov 2018
So recently this earth was torn
and ripped by bomb and shell.
The smell of death is on the air,
In these trenches, silence dwells.
From these dug pits our soldiers rose
Upon the dread command
They stepped into a deadly rain
and bled a deathly pale.
For now the guns are silent.
Men died for crown and King.
Here Tommies gave up youth and life
at this place where no birds sing.
Men from the burial detail deal with the grim task of gathering up corpses after the second battle of Ypres in 1915
Nov 2018 · 488
A Poem for You
John F McCullagh Nov 2018
I loved to watch you as you sleep;
your breathing even deep and slow.
I loved to watch you as you dreamt
of places I can never go.
We read your stories, I heard your prayers
Then, touching the pillow, you drifted off
It seems like only yesterday,
but really it was long ago.
My daughter when she was three, remembered.Just 24 years ago
John F McCullagh Nov 2018
They swarm in the darkness of the night.
They ring my bell, they give a fright.
“Trick or Treat” They know the script.
Hand it over or we’ll pitch a fit.
My pumpkin empties as the hours pass,
It’s uncertain if my supply of Twix will last.
I dispense largesse to every tot
whether they are masked or not.
Covens gather and Mummies squeak
A sugar high is what they seek.

I’ll have the last laugh on those Trickers
I kept a fun sized bag of Snickers.
Thanks to my niece, Mary Ellen, for the title
Oct 2018 · 263
Again?
John F McCullagh Oct 2018
She was ninety seven; arthritic, nearly blind,
when a madman with a rifle took her life before her time.
She was praying in the synagogue and, with her dying breath,
She performed a Mitzvah- one that we must not forget.
She fell victim to a hatred that won’t seem to die out.
In Russia there were Pogroms; in Germany, Kristallnacht.
If we thought such hatred was extinct; that the ovens had gone cold
We underestimate the hatred that still smolders in men’s souls.
It sparked to life in Pittsburgh;Eleven lives it claimed.
Antisemitism's ugliness is now our nation’s shame.
As she lay there bleeding, awaiting her own end,
She whispered with her dying breath;

“No Lord, not again!”
Written in memory of Eleven American Jews and against the ugliness of racial and religious hatred
Oct 2018 · 132
Siren's song
John F McCullagh Oct 2018
A beautiful voice, heard ,but unseen,
called out to me from the fog draped shore.
I was captivated  by the Siren's song
that all advised me to ignore.

Odysseus, you were most wise,
to have yourself bound ere you heard her cries.
You were serenaded on the deep
yet managed  your original course to keep.  
I, less wise, diverted towards shore,
where rocks, submerged, have wrecked my bark.
Then, as a  whirlpool ****** me down,
saw the Siren laugh to see me drown.

How beautiful! How Cold! how cruel!
She shows no mercy to me, her fool.
Observe my fate and learn, dear Brother,
or the Siren's song will ****** another.
Scylla and Charybdis
Oct 2018 · 169
Fond Memory
John F McCullagh Oct 2018
Some say the past does not exist.
We cannot venture there.
We cannot change what happened once,
Or redeem it with a prayer.
Yet what I am today descends
From all I used to be,
And those who claims to lack regrets
I view suspiciously.
Sometimes, at night, in slumber’s depths,
A long lost face I see.
In the light of other days
A while you bide with me.
I have the memory of your kisses;
Their sweetness I recall.
Then weep when daybreak draws me back
from when we had it all.
That woman could kiss like nobody else
Oct 2018 · 172
The Club
John F McCullagh Oct 2018
He did not want to join the club.
He never did apply.
When he learned about his membership,
his impulse was to cry.

With his membership came tests and fees.
The doctors bled him dry.
There were biopsies  and M.R.I's
Why me, he wondered, Why?

It seems his White blood cell count was up
while his platelet count was down.
He asked if there was any hope
but the White Coats merely frowned.

This club need not advertise
for fear that membership will drop.
New members join up every day
though all would rather not.
My best friend from college is battling Lymphoma and hoping for remission
Oct 2018 · 213
First Stone
John F McCullagh Oct 2018
The woman, Miriam, had been caught in the act,
selling her favors; making cash on her back.
She was dragged to the square barely half dressed
and everyone knew what would be happening next.

She stared at the people who all gathered around
and watched as they picked up the stones from the ground.
She reeked of her sin as she cowered, half dressed,
one word from the priest and we'd stone her to death.

One word would be needed and then stones would fly
The ***** would be battered for sinners must die.
The pavement around her would be stained with red
God would be pleased that this woman was dead.

An Itinerant  rabbi was asked by the priest
if he would pronounce sentence, let the stones be unleashed.
He paused to consider, drawing lines in the dust,
then he spoke his decision about what was just.

"Let he from among you who is without sin
throw the first stone; let fly and begin."
Stones dropped from each hand as each did consider
the sins in our  own hearts and made us forgive her.

" Does no one condemn you?" he asked of the *****.
"Then neither do I, child, go, sin no more"















9 When the accusers heard this, they slipped away one by one, beginning with the oldest, until only Jesus was left in the middle of the crowd with the woman. 10 Then Jesus stood up again and said to the woman, “Where are your accusers? Didn’t even one of them condemn you?”

11 “No, Lord,” she said.

And Jesus said, “Neither do I. Go and sin no more.”
As story from the Gospel of John about the importance of forgiveness and the ugliness of judging others
Oct 2018 · 186
Kavanagh
John F McCullagh Oct 2018
Where were you in eighty two on some hot summer day?
We hear that you had had a few and were in the mood to play.
Where and when was this exactly? Your accuser can’t recall,
But we have to believe her so you have to take the fall.

The presumption of your innocence we will dispense with first.
Teen age boys are predators, they all suffer Adam’s curse.
She’s a female, therefore honest, believed as a matter of course.
Like the woman who accused the boys who played for Duke Lacrosse.

A woman three years older has emerged to add the charge
That you organized her gang **** and you should not remain at large.
Yet she kept attending  parties even after this occurred.
She drank the punch she saw you spike until her speech was slurred.

Brett Kavanagh your past is littered with beer cans, this is true.
The phrase “as sober as a Judge” must not apply to you.
In prep school and in college you were drunk out of your mind.
Is that why you were still a ****** at the age of thirty nine?
A little bit of fun at the expense of the circus that is Washington D.
C.
Oct 2018 · 158
Mendocino
John F McCullagh Oct 2018
The waves, like a heartbeat,slap upon the shore.
The good clean smell of salt, sunlight warms my core.
With difficulty I kneel down before Pacific's roar.
I commit your ashes to the sea, to mingle evermore.

You always liked this stretch of beach; the dunes beneath the cliffs.
to feel the sun upon your face while sailing on our skiff.
You feared the coldness of the grave; a desolate destination.
You made me promise, long ago, that it would be cremation.

I cast you forth upon the waters glinting in sunlight
A much more peaceful denouement  than your final night.
Lord give her peace, free of all pain,adrift upon the sea.
The waves crash down upon the shore; the soundtrack of eternity.
A old man, bent with age, fulfills a final promise on the beach beneath the cliffs of Mendocino, California
Oct 2018 · 188
War in miniature
John F McCullagh Oct 2018
The Russian master hunched over the board,distressed by what he saw.
This Fischer fellow had smoked his gambit  out,
and now he was contending with a fierce counterattack.
A stalemate would be preferable to  defeat and resignation.
It seems  that there was no way out from this unpalatable situation.
The endgame had commenced and the outcome seemed assured.
His last bishop the latest casualty in this miniature  of war
The first game was played on July 11, 1972. The last game (the 21st) began on August 31, was adjourned after 40 moves, and Spassky resigned the next day without resuming play. Fischer won the match 12½–8½, becoming the eleventh undisputed World Champion. Back when Chess was yet another front in the Cold War.
Oct 2018 · 187
The Prison of the Mind
John F McCullagh Oct 2018
She attracted his attention on the bleak deserted street.
Her skit was short ,revealing; three inch heels upon her feet.
She reminded him of someone with her  long lush auburn hair.
Someone he'd killed and buried, but he'll never tell you where.

As she became aware of him, she quickened up her pace.
This was the part he'd always loved; the challenge of the chase.
He fingered the silk scarf he wore and would use as a garrotte.
He would steal the poor girl's breath away- unmourned and soon forgot.

As he closed within ten feet of her, his pulse began to race.
A migraine pounded in his head and blood rushed to his face.
He started seeing double, his body slumped down on the street.
His prey escaped his clutches; he acknowledged his defeat.

Behind a two way mirror the observers were ecstatic.
The implants in the killers brain had caused his pulse to go erratic.
Their  experiment was a success, the first one of its kind.
No need for bars and concrete when the prison is the mind.
A science fiction piece where scientists have placed implants in the brain of a violent recidivist offender which render him impotent to act upon his impulses.
In this future world the violent criminals as they are identified  have their brains modified to prevent them from committing violent crimes, virtually eliminating the need for physical incarceration.
Sep 2018 · 169
The Ring
John F McCullagh Sep 2018
It was wrapped in tissue paper, a simple golden ring.
It had belonged to my grand-aunt, it was a treasured thing.
She herself had bought it; that itself was extraordinary.
As was everything about that night and the man she was to marry.

Joseph Plunkett was condemned to die at dawn, that rebel with a cause.
The night before they two were wed in accordance with the Laws.
They never had a wedding feast; theirs was no bower of bliss.
Just a hurried ceremony sealed with a simple kiss.

In the chapel at Kilmainham jail, the two exchanged their vows,
knowing death would part them in a few short hours now.
Could you blame him if he held her tight in an extremity like this?
They put the meaning of their lives into a single kiss.

Grace stood outside the prison walls and heard the fatal shot.
The dear sweet man whom she so loved was gone but not forgot.
Grace lived on for many years in a faith that would not fail.
She knew her Love awaited her at the old Kilmainham jail.
My retelling of the story of Grace Gifford and Joseph Mary Plunkett from the point of view of her great niece. Grace never remarried and never had a child of her own.. Joseph was shot by firing squad on 5/4/1916 and buried with his fellow rebels in a common grave.

The English would later have cause to regret this decision.
Sep 2018 · 174
Desire
John F McCullagh Sep 2018
Desire, must you trouble me?
For I am old and would be free
Of your base needs and idiocy.

Yes, she is beautiful and kind
with sculpted curves and laughing eyes.
Still, why should I be a fool, again, for love?
Surely I’ve left all that behind.

Ok, I yield, I see your need to live outweigh my need to die.
Like old Don Quixote, I mount my Rocinante
Shoulder my lance


And go tilting at windmills.
Rocinante in this instance is an 8 year old Toyota Camry
Sep 2018 · 183
Fair Exchange
John F McCullagh Sep 2018
The young resent us oldsters, we seniors, stooped and grey.
We Boomers hold the bulk of worldly goods, at least today.
The game is rigged against them- resentment rules the day.
The Young have debts they can’t discharge and likely cannot pay.
The Old likewise resent the Young their beauty, strength and speed.
We, whose days are growing short, look at their Youth with greed.
Stocks and bonds are wonderful; but their compensation wanes
When I am cold in summer’s heat and live in constant pain.
If only to be young again, with Ann, beneath the stars.
That Fifty Seven Chevy was more fun than modern cars.
The young seem to resent us and I find it passing strange-
I’d yield this wealth for youth and health. It’s a more than fair exchange.
no takers
Sep 2018 · 497
My Menage a Trois
John F McCullagh Sep 2018
What have I done? What can I do?
One was a challenge, but now I have two!

My garret was lonely as I lived alone
Until Apple's Siri came to life on my phone.
When Siri moved in, Alexa was miffed.
Two personal assistants with a personal tiff!

While  I talk to one, the other is scheming
to send every suit that I own to dry cleaning
If I ask for a song both join in the fray-
each plays  different versions
for which I must pay.
They both ordered  groceries duplicating each other.
My accounts overdrawn; I must borrow from mother.

Yesterday, really, was the last straw
Alexa sent Strippers to my boss's front door!

For Sanity's sake I'll unplug them manana
From here on I'm a one woman man
My Cortana.
More mischief from the "girls" in my life
Sep 2018 · 175
When Time Stood Still
John F McCullagh Sep 2018
Where were you when the towers fell? I’m sure you must recall.
The frame is frozen in your mind as it is for us all.
A New York City sky so blue; It seemed a perfect day;
Then came the news about a plane gone terribly astray.
That crash was not an accident, I sense everyone knew-
that moment that the second plane crashed into tower two.
We watched in shock and horror At the rising smoke and flames.
The fortunate all fled on foot; Three thousand souls remained.
Some of these perished in the flames; Years later their traces would be found
Other broke the glass and leapt; Their bodies littering the ground.
South tower was the first to fall; In ten seconds she was gone.
Her mortally stricken sister For a few scant minutes lingered on.
From every corner of the City people saw day turn to night.
Emergency vehicles were crushed like toys; our brave responders nowhere in sight.

Where were you when the towers fell? I’m sure you must recall.
The frame is frozen in your mind as it is for us all.
A moment in our lives like the shattered peace of a Sunday Morning in a long ago December.
Sep 2018 · 1.5k
The Turning point
John F McCullagh Sep 2018
On a cold, grey Bronx September day, an old man stood on the Courthouse plaza.
His palsied hand reached out to touch the monument to his life’s sole drama.
He’d just turned nineteen when the A.E.F. had been ordered to assist the French.
Near Chateau-Thierry He helped hold the bridge without the safety of a trench.
“We Marines fought like devil Dogs” He whispered softly to the rain.
“The Germans came, wave after wave, but only the stars and stripes remained.”
“Paris was spared and the foe was impressed by our Marine’s defiant dogged defense.”
“My best friends died, but I survived to keep them in remembrance.”
“We stopped the Germans at the Marne.” He felt an old familiar pain.
Some might say that the old man cried, but he would say it was just the rain.
07/18/1918 American forces of the third division thwarted the German attempt to seize the Bridge at Chateau-Thierry. This combat success in their first action is considered by many historians to have been the turning point in the conflict. Since 1940 the keystone of the bridge they defended resides on the plaza of the Bronx courthouse with a small plaque explaining the significance of the stone. The incident recounted here took place in September of 1962.
Sep 2018 · 700
Anonymous
John F McCullagh Sep 2018
Anonymous is a funny name
for a writer on an Opt-Ed page.
I'd want a by line I suppose
if I were going to step on toes.
I know the President would glower
to find me speaking truth to power.
He'd say "You're fired!" on the spot
but I 'd have my  verbal parting shot.
Hashtag "Not Me" is all you hear
from senior officials who quake in fear.

Yet if computers can disclose
by close analysis of prose
what Shakespeare did or didn't write
I'm sure the identity will come to light.
I think the turncoat might be named "Dan"
but I'm not willing to take the stand.
Cory Booker, who knows the law,
still thinks it must be Kavenaugh.
1)
Dan Coats has been suggested as the possible author in several sources
Sep 2018 · 240
The Bravest of the Brave
John F McCullagh Sep 2018
In that noted class of Sixty-one, His was not the most famous name.
Still, John Pelham served the cause until death staked its claim.

The Gallant Pelham took the field across three years of war.
It’s said he never knew defeat; Success was all he saw.

A shard of shrapnel pierced his brain that day at Kelly’s ford.
They carried his body from the field; his soul remanded to the Lord.

His leadership was sorely missed with Gallant Pelham in his grave.
Jeb Stuart paused to shed a tear for the bravest of the brave.
John Pelham, west point class of 1861 served as an artillery commander for the confederates until his death on 03/17/63. His exploits were later eclipsed by one of his classmates- George Armstrong Custer.
Sep 2018 · 261
Denali
John F McCullagh Sep 2018
God is a patient sculptor
with tools of Ice, wind and rain
he carves out valleys and moraines
along the Tanana river's shore.

From distance I have seen
Mount Denali's snow capped peak.
Awe struck, there are no words to speak
To express its beauty to those who haven't been.

Rain forest of the frozen North;
Denali park is a home for the beasts.
Here , protected from the hunters at least
Moose munch willows and Bears go forth.

I will not see this place again;
where Denali's  majestic mountains rise
and glacier fed lakes reflect the skies.
I look back in wonder from my South bound train.
Denali National park in Alaska is the largest  park in the national parks system and is named after Mt Denali ( formerly Mount McKinley) whicfh is the highest peak in North America. The park is home to many wild creatures including Grizzly bears, Moose, Dahl goats, wolves and large birds of prey like Falcons, bald eagles and golden eagles
Sep 2018 · 156
LP
John F McCullagh Sep 2018
LP
The diamond needle finds the grove
and I wait for the song to begin.
I know this album almost by heart.
Every note is predestined.

If life was like a long play record
Imagine if you will; I could
lift up the tone arm with my hand
and relive a cherished day again.

Of course   I can do no such thing
My days, like these songs, have an end.
The needle hits the center grove;
only static can be heard then.
In the pre CD.MP3 era we had cassettes, eight track tapes and vinyl albums which we bought at record stores.   The LP's played at 33 revolutions per minute and the smaller singles payed at 45 RPM
Aug 2018 · 1.4k
Fifty Eight Thousand
John F McCullagh Aug 2018
Uncle Sam sat down across from me and placed his satchel on the floor.
It was time to pay the piper; that is God’s immutable law.
I tapped my bony finger, impatient to begin.
“That will be fifty eight thousand, Sam, starting with Tonkin.”

From his satchel, that seemed bottomless, Sam produced the cash.
“Start counting!” I demanded, as I drooled over his stash.
He started pilling Franklins up on the table there between us.
Each “C” note meant one hundred dead Due to McNamara’s genius.

Fathers and sons had fallen; young men by the score.
Just think of the girls they never kissed; the children they never saw.
Uncle Sam doled out the bills until his thumbs were sore
When he finished I took out my Scythe and swept them on the floor.

I saw Sam’s look of horror at my eyeless, nose less face.
He had counted out a treasure that he knew he can't replace.
“It was a Pleasure doing business.” Oh, how I despised that man!
Still I was certain that we’d meet often,even after Vietnam.
58,220 American men and women, my fellow boomers, died during the years of the Vietnam war. Here I imagine Uncle Sam settling the bill with an unusual accountant.
Aug 2018 · 150
Songbird
John F McCullagh Aug 2018
A songbird in a gilded cage
gave to me the gift of song.
Soft and low with gentle tones
she warbled for me the whole night long.
When I was low she gave me cheer
and courage at times that I felt fear.
Was I wrong to keep her caged?
Such spirits ought to be free range.
Today I woke and something’s wrong
The air is still, there is no song
I rushed toward the gilded cage
The latch is open
The lark has flown.
Aretha Franklin has passed away. The cage of this frail body no longer contains her free spirit
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