It's starting to rain,
Young Sabrina said,
Sitting up in bed,
Gazing out of her
Window, taking in
The city and sky,
And the changing of
Weather. The city
Looked quite different in
The rain: looked fresher,

New born, as if some
Giant had lain out
In a shower with
All parts unclean cleansed
And made new in look
To gaze of the eye.
But who was there to
Tell now that Jude was
Gone, who to lay her
Head against, who to

Hug to for warmth or
Human contact in
Her big double bed?
He would have touched her
With his finger down
Her spine, have kissed her
Shoulder with his lips,
Have bitten in play
Her soft tender thigh.
That was what made her

Choke up, made her cry:
That knowing he'd not
Do that anymore,
Not be there with his
Love and embrace, not
Be there to gaze at
Her, eye-to-eye, face
To face. It's raining
Hard, Sabrina said,
Parting the window

Blinds with her fingers,
Taking in the block
Of tall offices
That came into her
View across the way,
The greying skyline,
The dull day. But who
Was there to relate
The fact of rain, who
To share her body

With, whom to sense her
Grief and pain? Jude had
Died: 9/11.
No final kiss; no
Fond farewell; just the
Silence of lost love
And an empty bed,
And a vacant space
In her heart and head.

A 2009 poem of mine. Now available in my book of poems Be Your Fantasy.
#woman   #grief   #911  

bang!
           bang!
bang!
/          
bang!
           bang!
bang!

is when metal s p r e a d  like jam.

d.d. #35
Karah Wilson
Karah Wilson
Nov 28, 2016

Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children. Lives lost, bonds made.
Wreckage, heartbreak, turmoil, destruction. Questions. Pleas.
Heaven and Hell. Shock. Dismay. Loss and hospital. Sirens.
Help. Help. HELP!
Goodbye, goodbye.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“I’m going to die; I’m going to die!”
Crumble from the south.
Crumble from the north.
Smoke, rubble, lives.
Run!
Silence
Open mouth, tears.
Questions, calls.
“Are you okay?”
“Hello?”
“I love you.”
“Be safe.”
Cops, fire trucks, ambulances.
Terror.
Terror.
Terror.
Goodbye.

#911  

Woke up:
                 Had a smoke,
                                          Made breakfast,
                                                                       Watched TV...
                                          My phone rang,
                Had a smoke,
Shut down.


Woke up:
                 Had a smoke,
                                         Went to work,
                                                                   ...
                                         ...
                 ...
...


...

#poem   #death   #concrete   #political   #911   #terrorism  
Axel Torrico
Axel Torrico
Oct 25, 2016

I have to leave i am way behind
My soul is here my life is not
No one can tell who i have become
I fell of my words call 911

#happy   #joy   #fast   #bye   #ramble   #glad   #911   #alove  
Rebecca Lynn
Rebecca Lynn
Oct 20, 2016

It was just another day
didn’t think about anything
never thought that anything could go wrong,
but I guess I told myself wrong.
Holding my books so close to my chest,
started to think about the ones that I love best.
Next thing I knew, I grabbed my phone and called you
got the voicemail, so I started to say…

Are you alright, okay.
I’m just thinking about you today,
calling just to hear your voice, just checking up on you.
I have an idea on where you’re at, but I hope it’s not true.
I’m dearly missing you
.”

The phone beeped & I knew something was not right
you were there that very night.
I just wished you could pick up your phone,
so I can tell myself that I’m wrong,
but ever since that day.
I pick up the phone, & leave a message at the tone,
because I know you can’t answer your phone

Are you alright, okay.
I’m just thinking about you today,
calling just to hear your voice, just checking up on you.
I have an idea on where you’re at, but I hope it’s not true.
I’m dearly missing you
.”

It’s still just another typical day
now I think differently
& I’m thankful for everyday I had.
I just wished I could somehow get you back
I desperately miss you  & I still call you.

Are you alright, okay.
I know that you’re thinking about me today.
I’m calling just to hear your voice, just checking up on you.
I had a sketchy feeling about things, now I just want you.
I’m dearly, I’m desperately missing you
.”

9/11 inspired story. The italic is what she says.
#love   #feelings   #story   #you   #writing   #miss   #missing   #loving   #hers   #911  
Breeze-Mist
Breeze-Mist
Oct 6, 2016

I was just looking at some old comic art
About that time that some see as a start
And the artists all believed that we'd come together
To rebuild and outlast this terrorist weather
But looking around fifteen years later
It seems that our paranoia turned out to be greater
These artists believed that the change in the world
Would result in courage and unity untold

Well, guys, I'm so sorry that we let you all down
If you time traveled, you'd be dissapointed at what's around
Instead of becoming a United planet
Built on peace and courage unlike that before it
We've become this frightened, always fighting thing
I'm sorry for all of the things that we bring

I'm so sorry about the middle east
And about the NSA, and that's just the least
I'm sorry that techniques like waterboarding
We're used and that we don't find it abhorring
I'm sorry we couldn't look past race
To solve the hatred that we face
I'm sorry that one's orientation
Still affects how they're treated in a nation
I'm sorry we didn't learn respect
Because we hurt who we said we'd protect
So to those past artists who've come here to visit
This isn't the world you wanted, isn't it?
I'm so sorry the world turned out this way
I'm not really sure what else I can say

The writers thought we'd change for the better, but things just keep getting worse.
PaperclipPoems
PaperclipPoems
Sep 13, 2016

I saw a video yesterday
It made me fall to my knees
Watching the sky scrapers fall to the ground
Listening to the scattered high pitched screams
Women and men falling from stories
Women and men hoping for life
Children and siblings clasping their hands together
Hoping their loved ones will survive.
Don't forget the air they breathed
Don't forget their names
Each year we come together to remember
The tragedy we all shared that frightful day.

#love   #remember   #attack   #terror   #terrorist   #911  
Jason Harris
Jason Harris
Sep 12, 2016

You were fourteen in Dr. A.’s class
when on that day you proclaimed
to have learned nothing and on that
day Dr. A. held no doctorate degree.

You were fourteen in Dr. A.’s class
when bodies: sick, overweight, in-shape
fell from buildings and into to TV screens
into history books, only to be stuck forever

in a New York newsreel in their Tuesday
outfits with Monday night’s love and touch
brewing, aged and earthy, from their falling
lives. If you listen closely on the eve of this day

the wind still whispers their scent of perfume
trails, still whispers what really happened
that busy day in the clouds, in the sky.
I was ten and can’t recall where I was

or in whose company but like the waters
stretched between Europe, Africa, and the
America’s, I was (am) far removed, was (am)
still putting together the blue-black lineage

of my triangular history that drowned
in the salty waters stretched, flowing
between three continents. But fifteen
years later, we (you and I) have overcome

the billowing black clouds of Tuesdays
the Monday night upsets, and the routed
maritime of our ancestors. 15 years later
you are still alive with your blue eyes

and clear face, are still four years my senior
are still my guiding light and sight of sun.

Jim Marchel
Jim Marchel
Sep 11, 2016

We will never forget...

The last day dawns on my life
And I don't know it
As I wake up to golden rays
Of sun knocking on my eyelids.

I kissed my wife good morning,
Got up out of bed
And tucked her in again.
Naomi spent 10 hours last night
Delivering a new mother's firstborn.
I didn't tell her good morning
And I wish I told her I loved her
But I didn't want to wake her.

I sipped my coffee on the way to work
As if it were any other day,
My only worry was if I had spilled any
On the new pink and white
Polka-dot tie my daughter Elise
Had bought me for my birthday
Last weekend
Or the new Bostonian shoes
My wife gave me
With the card that read,
We love you from top to bottom!

I walked into the conference room
And checked my watch:
8:36.
I was 9 minutes early
To the most exciting moment
Of my career:
My first pitch as project manager
For the new country club going up
East of the city in Glenwood Landing.

I was 10 minutes early
To the most helpless moment
Of my life.

At 8:45 I said good morning
To many fine ladies and gentlemen...
Bankers, lawyers, city representatives,
A union boss, some secretaries,
And a stenographer in the back.

The same words I would never again say to my wife and child...

And immediately I was thrown
Through the air
And knocked against the righthand wall
Of the room.
I was utterly confused
And my face burned
From the coffee I had been holding
That now stained
My beautiful polka-dot tie.

It would be nothing compared to the heat I would soon face.

Outside our 111th-story window
Rose an obsidian plume of smoke.
We all knew something terrible
Had happened just a few floors below.

The fine ladies and gentlemen
Of a moment ago
Quickly turned into uncivilized beasts
As the lights went out
And the piercing scream of the fire alarm
Shouted louder than the new mother
Experiencing the pain
Of her first childbirth.

Smoke very quickly came from below
And filled the floor with the foulest odor
I had ever smelled:
Burning rubber, sulfur,
And burnt hair.
Others in the room sealed the door shut
With expensive overcoats and undershirts
From Armani and Burberry.

They tried the phone countless times
But the line was dead.
I looked down at my watch
As a bead of sweat fell from my brow
And landed on my new tie:
9:11.

Today's date.

The fire alarm got tired of yelling
And the room was filled with an
Uncomfortable rumbling sound...

Flames...

...and the hysterical wails of the
Fine ladies and gentlemen in the room.
Some prayed, some wept together,
Others wept alone.
The one thing we all had in common
Was the persistent coughing
From the obsidian smoke
Slicing our lungs.

I looked down at my watch:
9:23.
The heat was now almost unbearable.
We huddled around the window
Jack or John or Jim smashed
With the powerful throw
Of a mini-refigerator.

When I gazed out the window
At the same sun that kissed my eyelids
This morning,
I was calm.
I thought of Naomi, who was
Surely watching on television
As her family called her to make sure
Her and I and Elise were alright.

Daddy's alright, baby girl.

I'm alright, Naoms.

9:31...
Gary or Greg was the first to jump.

I'll make it home to you, angels.

9:32...
Sophia or Cynthia was next.

Please, God, get me out of here...

9:33...
Jack or John or Jim
And Patty or Peggy
Were each other's last hug
As they fell
Like two stars from heaven.

9:35...
I couldn't see
And I couldn't breathe.
The sunlight was the last thing to kiss me.

Before I jumped
I felt my girls.
I touched the tie on my neck
And the shoes on my feet.

I love you both

From top to bottom.

We will never forget...
#forget   #never   #911  
 
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment