An Ordinary Tuesday
An ordinary Tuesday
Alarm clocks wake sleepy heads
Breakfasts eaten in a hurry
People rushing to get to work
Traffic jams, buses running late
Flights to catch, flights delayed
Children entering their classrooms
Teachers ready to face another day
Moms having another cup of coffee
Errands to be run, meals to be planned
Lunch dates to be arranged
Just an ordinary Tuesday
The sun in a cloudless blue sky
A hint of autumn in the air
Trees thinking about shedding their leaves
Birds on their migratory journeys
Squirrls and chipmunks scampering
To find the first acorns
Just an ordinary Tuesday
Firemen,EMTS, policemen
Doctors, nurses, and ordinary people
go about their day
A President listens to second graders
reading their favorite books
Just an ordinary Tuesday
until the world changed
Evil roared to life
on that ordinary Tuesday
Stealing lives,stealing calm
Stealing the peace we all knew
But on that ordinary Tuesday
As the world shed its tears
Our country came together
And pledged to never forget
That ordinary Tuesday morning
When the world changed
Twenty-five years have passed,
yet the memory still remains,
a morning filled with sorrow,
a nation washed in pain.
The towers reached toward heaven,
then disappeared from sight,
leaving behind a silence
that still echoes every night.
We remember those who never
made it home that day,
the mothers, fathers, sons and daughters
who were taken far away.
We remember every hero
who ran toward the flame,
while others ran for safety,
they answered when we called their name.
The firefighters and the officers,
the strangers helping strangers too,
the countless acts of courage
from red, white, and blue.
We remember those in heaven,
and the families left behind,
the empty chairs, the photographs,
the memories frozen in time.
Though years may pass before us,
their stories will not fade.
For every life that was taken,
a promise must be made:
To remember their names,
to honor what they gave,
to cherish those beside us,
and never forget the brave.
So today we bow our heads,
with hearts both proud and torn,
and whisper through the years:
We remember.
We honor.
We will never forget.
I’ll never forget those jumpers,
dark jet fuel leaking from the sky.
Distraught felt with an endless cry,
each previous moment in blurs.
Now it has been twenty five years,
it’s crazy how time has flown by.
I’ll never forget those jumpers,
dark jet fuel leaking from the sky.
Sent from our sisters and brothers,
forced to grasp their final reply.
I can still see the Twin Towers
Stark sound echoed by the others,
I’ll never forget those jumpers.
A poem by Frank Daub
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The sea is just down there.
I am anxious for the sight
of stone turned to bread by the wash
of foam and the jetting of the salt water.
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The spiraling gulls
are sun lighted bright in their play
above the sand,
their startling dive
toward the sea is brief
in time and sight.
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The freedom of the coast
was eight hundred years
at taking.
One bold county man’s toast
to the awakening water
baptizes the youth
who have forgotten Eire for other lovers.
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
I haven’t heard the all
of every song
or the rise and fall
and rise of every story
that set a mother’s son
free to calculate a career.
I stand for stopping; Brendan says, “too late.”
I want to stay
where the past has gone,
old rebel cries and songs.
Yet,
it’s Brendan through the gate,
and gone
and done
and through with old.
Life, the ambivalent gift
Built of moments, incidents, experiences,
Images in colour, lingering
In cameos, memories, scattered
Blending in feelings
Breezes stirring love, need, fear,
Joy sometimes
All made of precious little bits
Vulnerable to annihilation
From what is listed
Thereof sing
Into the dark
Absorbent void
Which is the future
And sweet life lived together
In the grip of Time
Twists into sadness;
Contemplates forever
What used to be.
Ebony eyes eclipse ripping away sun
Moon blooms of golden gloom
Lips lacking limerick’s lift
Onyx mood swings back and forth
Like grey grandfather clock
Time ticking as a blues bomb
Raining purple passionate pain
clouded by lemon lyrical labyrinth
Of love lacking it’s sweet liquor
The bittersweet longing embraced
Tastes like red regrets sifted through time
Straining to be reinvented not lamented
In black bird’s somber death song
Sacred and solemn in honor of loss
Mourning is important inked in green
Like poison ivy uncomfortable
But never worthless as it is digested
And creates cranberry calling to
Remember the fallen angels
With soft tears laid like roses
On the cold creamy colored casket
My daughter, society is family.
Treat everyone with loving kindness.
Truth becomes your first companion.
Respect is life's priceless ornament.
Goodness remains your greatest strength.
Build tomorrow with hopeful dreams.
Make hard work your companion.
Never fear defeat or failure.
Honesty shall guide your journey.
Faith will brighten every step.
Always offer respect before expecting.
Embrace everyone with sincere love.
Humility is your true beauty.
Let gentle words bloom daily.
Keep compassion within your heart.
You are my endless pride.
Your smile is my strength.
Your dreams are my prayers.
Your happiness is my victory.
Your courage fills my heart.
Even when I am absent.
My words will walk beside.
Always choose the truthful path.
May the world honor you.
My blessings remain forever yours
The day you left, time stopped.
My laughter quietly buried beside yours.
Home became walls without heartbeat.
Every sunrise forgot its golden warmth.
I still keep your empty chair.
Dust cannot erase your presence.
Your old shirt still smells familiar.
I hug memories instead of you.
Father, who hears my silence now?
Who blesses my trembling dreams today?
Who hides my tears from storms?
Who calls me their little girl?
I smile before everyone daily.
But nights know my broken soul.
My pillow drinks endless silent tears.
Darkness becomes my closest companion.
Every festival lights another absence.
Every prayer whispers only your name.
Every victory feels painfully incomplete.
Every failure longs for your embrace.
People say time heals everything.
Time never healed your empty place.
It only taught silent endurance.
Pain learned living inside me.
Sometimes I hear your gentle voice.
Sometimes I chase impossible echoes.
Sometimes I wake calling "Appa."
Morning answers only with silence.
If Heaven has listening windows,
Hear your daughter crying tonight.
Hold my shattered heart forever.
Until we meet beyond this life.
Her kind named her weak, a flaw—night.
Disposable, bone-thin, unblessed—night.
Fate left her cracked on hostile stone,
under an alien, starving sky—night.
No bright warriors came, no oath, no tone;
only a human, half-dead, drawn—night.
He lifted her onto his back,
and would not set her down—night.
They crossed poison deserts, copper-dry;
lungs burning on each stolen breath—night.
Fire-storms tore their borrowed shelter,
ash kissing lips like quiet death—night.
They threaded empire-ruins, iron-mouthed,
where old crowns rusted into blight—night.
Survival hardened into trust,
a gentle chain in gritted fight—night.
Loyalty grew fanged; mercy grew wings;
their shadows braided tight—night.
Maybe love, dangerous and clean,
took root in scars, in shared fright—night.
Then the twist: he was her rescue.
She was his sentence, his light—night.
memory
soft-footed, warm,
gathering what time forgets~
keeper
people come and go
gone but never forgotten
their words still linger
Here’s to the ones we’ll never see…
Your demise gets summarized into goodbyes and memories
But its not as simple as that
Time could never encompass the essence of your being
Words at its peak could never articulate you
Your bag-skin lay unmoving, rotting
But out of it came a voice never to be heard
Your eyes hosts no light now
Your smile gone, your uniqueness gone
And like I said… words could never do justice
Same with how insurmountable this pain will be
And while i wait for our next meeting
You’d be missed everyday
A vacancy never to be filled
I remember,
Lestweforget,
And the phrase:
Between the wars,
Said during:
Times of peace.
He died on the field, to live in the heart,
Lifted are nations by heroes that fall;
Never we’ll know on which ground he took part;
But then, the truth is, he died on them all.
He held, on that day, “No evil shall pass!
No, not today, though I die at my post!”
Courage is not just a word by the crass,
But rises with flames, when duty calls most.
What shall we think of a life cut so short?
There once died a rose, that others might bloom;
What shall that death to the living report?
There once rose a call, that lives past the Tomb:
To face every danger, never to lag,
And to embody what’s meant by the flag.
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