I remember the morning sky so blue. The air was crisp and clear.                              
Days like that are all too few
With autumn drawing near.

I remember the first report of a plane.
The details weren't precisely clear.
The proof that  it was no accident
Very shortly would appear.

The mother of my children worked
Right there across the street.
Communication proved impossible
When we most needed to; it was impossible to speak.

I saw the smoke from fires rise
From my vantage miles away.
Men died whom I had just met
A scant few days before.

We watched footage in an endless loop
As planes crashed and the towers fell.
Lost was a beautiful late summers day.
Transformed by hate to a vision from hell.
We watched as search and rescue changed
To search and recovery.
Sixteen years have passed. Still the fate of some is a mystery.

That was the day we lost.
It's memory still makes me cry.
The day death came for so many
Out of a clear blue sky.

9/11 plus sixteen

Last night I stood atop the North tower,
And as I gazed down from the roof,
I hallucinated a Boeing hurtling,
I saw it collide and felt the impact,
Soon I saw and heard the fear.

The fear vibrated downwards,
It was a nightmare of old memories,
It was a fear of odd memories,
Of memories that I never had,
A nightmare with open eyes.

My HP Poem #1661
©Atul Kaushal
Jobira Sep 12

The morning smiles
The good-bye kisses
The future hopes
The married wives
The working husbands
The new families
The twin towers,
Oh, Nine Eleven,
Ash to ash dust to dust,
With a blink of a blast,
Everything was gone out of sight.
Yet, New York City, at its best
Never gave in for the defeat;
The responders, the police officers,
The brave firefighters,
The officials, once united
Let freedom stand off the ground  
And promised to not let
that day come around



I found it hidden away in my notes.

I remember I was in school cafeteria, eating when this was happening.
Arabella B Sep 12

16 years ago many woke up not knowing this day would be their last
coworkers, Friends, Couples, Brothers, Sisters, All lost in the Rubble
The Attacks left us scared and afraid
But We banded together to show the ones who wanted to break us that we won't back down
It is hard to think that on a normal day that the news that Mommy or Daddy wouldn't come home
had to be given to young children
It is hurtful to think that there are people out there  that want to hurt us
It is scary that there are people who won't even remember the day and the events that took place simply because they weren't alive.
But Today we remember the Events that happened that changed the course of history
In Our Eyes

Today is 9/11. My Economics teacher told me about his Experience and it really made me want to cry. He could have been killed. I wrote this for all those who were killed. My US History Teacher used to work in one of the Towers. Her wedding albums hold the memories of all her co workers who died because she worked on the 98th floor. It frightened me a little bit to think I am as old as 9/11. I was only 8 months old when it happened.
Chris Neilson Sep 11

As they made separate tracks
on life's rocky road
paths crossed on 9/11
fate's hand had bestowed

Their journey now ran parallel
onto a roller coaster of emotion
from highest highs to lowest lows
from fast forward to slow motion

Lanes of love and roads to ruin
can feel one and the same
as the paths fork and divide
there remains a flickering flame

On life's painted landscape
when all the stars align
love and pain are kindred spirits
when beating hearts entwine

Nuha Fariha Jul 1

The yolk of yesteryear festered
Leaving fewer shoes at the masjid
Fewer smiles at Eid more taut lines
At the corner of Imam's mouth as he
Raised his hands to cover his head and
Cried the Azan to an empty room

Behind him tenuous shadows lurked
Eager to report back to an eagle with
Its talon scratched feudal lines deciding
Who gets to live and for how long
In countries far away where children
Have learned to fear the sky

I have reached the point
At which I have
Nothing better to do
But write poetry.
I'm waiting for an attorney
To return my call,
'Cause I'm filing for divorce,
But I know I have no control over the situation.
Rumi said that.
Last, night,
When I got in a fight with my wife,
Before calling 911,
I shouted,
"I'm Chairman Mao Tse Tung!"
Maybe, I AM Chairman Mao Tse Tung.
Who knows?
I seem to have a certain strange charisma
Among Chinese people recently.
It's true
When my Father returned from China.
He gave me a Mao Cap
And a Little Red Book.
Maybe, he was preparing me
For the role?

I am here

I was there
when you died
a handful of yards
from where I stood
on the most perfect of days

I now stand
on a seaside boardwalk
reciting your names
reading thumbnail bios
you liked the sun,
sea, surf and shore
you deeply loved
your family and
carried this place
within you as a
sacred sanctuary

But for that awful day
I would not know you

The day that bowed
Trinity’s holy spires
the clattering commotion
the destructive noise
tumbling, collapsing, splintering
our civic civility
consuming you
dashing many
seashore dreams

Yet your love
was not consumed
in the flames of acrimony

Your names
forged in bronze
etched on boards
written in sand

in wounded hearts
of those you loved
and blithely spoken
by a lifting chorus
of ever present waves

Righteous Brothers,
Ebb Tide

(double click image to read the names)

Holy Saturday 2017

municipal memorial for 9/11 victims
Terry Collett Mar 17

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.
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