#wtc - Hello Poetry

Building a conflict Morning steps out on the ledge Gone in your wake We share the same skies The waiting makes me curious Windows on the world To pieces of mosaic This ruined puzzle Gravity's rainbow Given to cataclysm As above, so below Suspended in history

0

Feb 11, 2025

Feb 11, 2025 at 10:42 AM UTC

Carlo-C-Gomez

The Falling Man

Building a conflict Morning steps out on the ledge Gone in your wake We share the same skies The waiting makes me curious Windows on the world To pieces of mosaic This ruined puzzle Gravity's rainbow Given to cataclysm As above, so below Suspended in history

12

The line in the sand is at such incredible depth but suddenly obtainable through unspoken tragic demarcation whatever the outcome the 91st floor comes from underneath they say today is happening outside of me and from a window along the stress fracture it's falling decidedly at your feet

0

Jun 23, 2024

Jun 23, 2024 at 2:10 PM UTC

Carlo-C-Gomez

San Andreas Fault

The line in the sand is at such incredible depth but suddenly obtainable through unspoken tragic demarcation whatever the outcome the 91st floor comes from underneath they say today is happening outside of me and from a window along the stress fracture it's falling decidedly at your feet

11

There is a wound, black as a cave and burning, Smoke, and then people, pour out. Look up, up beyond the roar of metal beyond the seething, traumatized pixels that clutch their ******* set out to sag with milk and blood. beyond how far your eyes will naturally go, and you can see it- the flap of a purple tie (his son insisted on it) and that was her sister’s green dress (they wore the same size in everything). small and out of the blue they plummet as children. so we the people or as we were later titled bystanders want to hold them in our arms we want to grab them out of the sky, yes, grab them with those awful thoughts of belonging. that you ought to be here, with me on this ground that will inevitably lead to homes that haven’t used up all their printer paper on fliers. home, not the sound of a car crashing into another car except we know it’s you and the pavement and it’s all right if we can’t scrub all of it from our heads and faces, just please try to be down here with us, walking sometime tomorrow and 19 years from today same old same old New Yorkers pounding the concrete upright, wearing our dress shoes with a shirt we bought after we somehow were all walking the day after that and our minds were still spiraling the shaky little walking path we made around the first woman who just wouldn’t stop falling and bursting open falling and bursting open and falling and falling open again. jump into the promise that i will try to catch you. even if it’s on the flip side, baby, just please trust that i’ll be standing, rippling in blue, right where you need me to be.

0

Dec 9, 2019

Dec 9, 2019 at 12:33 AM UTC

elijahbowen17

today, the sky cleared a window and it became blue

There is a wound, black as a cave and burning, Smoke, and then people, pour out. Look up, up beyond the roar of metal beyond the seething, traumatized pixels that clutch their ******* set out to sag with milk and blood. beyond how far your eyes will naturally go, and you can see it- the flap of a purple tie (his son insisted on it) and that was her sister’s green dress (they wore the same size in everything). small and out of the blue they plummet as children. so we the people or as we were later titled bystanders want to hold them in our arms we want to grab them out of the sky, yes, grab them with those awful thoughts of belonging. that you ought to be here, with me on this ground that will inevitably lead to homes that haven’t used up all their printer paper on fliers. home, not the sound of a car crashing into another car except we know it’s you and the pavement and it’s all right if we can’t scrub all of it from our heads and faces, just please try to be down here with us, walking sometime tomorrow and 19 years from today same old same old New Yorkers pounding the concrete upright, wearing our dress shoes with a shirt we bought after we somehow were all walking the day after that and our minds were still spiraling the shaky little walking path we made around the first woman who just wouldn’t stop falling and bursting open falling and bursting open and falling and falling open again. jump into the promise that i will try to catch you. even if it’s on the flip side, baby, just please trust that i’ll be standing, rippling in blue, right where you need me to be.

44

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.

0

Sep 12, 2017

Sep 12, 2017 at 7:14 AM UTC

Atul

The 16 Years Old Ghost

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.

10