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I remember watching
Back in 1963
A Presidential funeral
There on my tv

My son watched his son
And he saw me cry
Then my son looked up and said
"Why did he have to die?"

Five years passed, a Memphis death
Was felt throughout the land
My son watched this and said to me
"I do not understand"

I looked at him, looked at the ground
And looked high into the sky
My son, said "Dad please tell me?"
"Why did he have to die?"

Again that summer, sixty eight
We stood along the track
We watched the train go past us
We knew he wasn't coming back

My son, a little older
watched as I tried not to cry
He said "it's ok to feel that dad"
"Why did he have to die?"

Years went by and he grew up
Got married moved away
I remember sitting watching
On that warm September day

Two Towers tumbled to the ground
My heart broke, and I cried
My son, went in to save them
"Why did he have to die?"

I'll never get an answer
Till the angel's song is sung
"Why did he have to die?" I'll ask
Why do the good die young?
Poetic T Sep 2017
Towers fall and the face you seek
is your own arrogance.

A stone is a single thought,
but when you build yourself
                               up in delusion,
there is only one conclusion,
                                              a fall.
hazem al jaber May 2017
Tower's poems...






Tower build...

poems created...

only just for you...



don't ignore me...

this ignorance will kills me...

don't forget me...

this forgetting will slays me...

don't leave me away...

don't make my soul get out from me...

sweet lover...

i am the lover, who loves you...

the poet who only writes for you...

and because of you...

i build up my tower's poems...

just to house you there...

build it because and for you...

to read it...

to hear it...

to feel it wherever you be...

so please...

save my all lonely loneliness poems...

read and feel within me so deep...

and live there into my tower's poems...

because there i stay in...

come babe to me..

come to complete me...

hazem al ...
Colm Mar 2017
Did he know?

That the stories he'd create
That the characters which he'd sow
Together all at once
Would so quickly grow in the minds of those
Who would follow along and fellowship
Together on this ever winding road?

For wherever there is rock and stone
Or root and earth
Be it on mountain tops or in the valleys below
How his stories over and over again
Will ever accumulate and flow
Through the minds of many so and so's

Did he ever realize the significance of this though?
That I do not know. BUT I kinda started TFOTR just a moment ago. :p

Race you to the Havens.
Rebecca Gismondi Feb 2016
two MTA

workers play invisible baseball across platforms at Union Square

the runs in my tights mimic the skyscrapers
whose marks I see across the black sky from the rear

window while he ***** me in the backseat of his Audi

an alley in Brooklyn,
the threat of a subway slasher,
the likelihood of getting lost,

but the questioning by tourists for direction

if I say “I am one of you”, it

discredits my memories here:

[pumpkins on 34th in July
kisses in bathtubs in Meatpacking
top of the Whitney]

but I am not (yet) one of you:

impatient drivers,
L train riders,
rainbow bagel obsessers

I still feel a hand grip my throat when walking down 5th
and throw my bones off the Chelsea Pier
before I spend 11 hours wondering why I haven’t yet committed myself to you.
ji Feb 2016
This is how you know when love is true.

When your senses are numb and yet it pains you so much still, like your lungs are being wring out of blood; like your spine is a tower of stacked-up bones, collapsing; and your words fail and your every desperate action is scarce and all you feel inside well up on your eyes, condensed in an oceanic, salty drop. When you are no one but a void, deluging tears; until your lap is a swamp of one part sorrow and ninety-nine parts nostalgia.
//021116
Seth Milliman Dec 2015
Tall are the Towers that stretch up like tree's,
Covering their world in whatever they please.
Made of ivory,marble,brick, and clay,
In their own world they do as they say.
One day they will fall and cave from below,
It is there in their self-righteousness; they become their own foe.
DracoTalpus Dec 2015
What rumble grumbles thundering
     beneath another boiling sky,
Which warns me, scorns me,
     distant thorns flee: flashing light from clouds, and I…

Am harkening – darkening towers,
     ivory-cast and sunlit spires lie!
Still distant, though these
     trees are bending, rending, raising arms up high.

Green fingers flailing, leaves travailing,
     one warm-gust, and the blues go grey;

Then silence…
And the wind dies:

Calm

I can feel you coming.

I can taste your spray.

There’s nothing better
     than a thunderstorm;
I love them, and especially
     the way your tempest touches,
And the way your thunder talks to me.


©14Sep10 @DracoTalpus
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Destiny Fleming Sep 2015
He turned and kissed her,
He put his hand on her stomach to greet the new life, his voice a purr.
Off to work he goes,
But no one knows.
Until this day,
When our nation was turned into a useless fray,
Where everything will soon be a monotonous gray.
He forgot his keys,
So he doesn’t leave.
Maybe if he would of stayed a little longer,
His life wouldn’t of been stolen,
From terrorist mongers.
He pulls away,
Not knowing about this day.
“Goodbye, my dear. You have nothing to fear.”
A silver car,
She thinks, “He won’t travel too far.”
Little does she know,
He will soon go.
Go to a place with angels and things,
Where he will gain his wings.
When the news announces the attack,
Her heart has been snatched, never to be given back.
Going to the towers,
Her heart plucked, like a balding flower.
The towers falling,
The children calling,
A fatherless baby brought into the world,
Never to be known as “Daddy’s Little Girl”.
That was the day her walls fell down,
That was the day, her emotions were in a bound.
Clutching the Hopeless,
The world in a mess.
Our nation too soon to be broken,
Before anyone could have spoken.
Our people will climb back to their knees,
Open your eyes, please.
We can tolerate pain for so long,
Before we proceed to right the wrong.
(We will never forget)
ATC Apr 2015
I wanted answers but all you did was kiss me.

I know that doesn't seem complex,
yet when the twin towers were hit the
conspiracies rose as the people fell.

Who was really in charge of all of this?

I believe that question belonged to both my
situation and the nation.

I thought to myself that you'll talk
and tell me about what was going on in
your mind and if you felt the same way.

But that was like hoping for a blind man to explain
the fear in the people's eyes as they
ran away from the city's blocks of smoke.

For a blind man wouldn't comment on what he couldn't see,
just how you couldn't see how much I cared about you
therefore you didn't comment
let alone compliment.

While they searched for bodies,
I searched for body language.

The aftermath of the towers falling resulted
with no air traffic for a week above the U.S.,
people reported that
the skies had never looked so blue.
I was told the same after the word
"us" had fallen.

I wanted answers but all you did was leave me
with conspiracies questioning if this end was planned.
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