then ...
we watched
a world weeping
blood …
a villain's twisted hope
humanity's horror
steel like butter
melting …
strange birds in stranger
air - flailing …
sirens in chorused agony for
those whose voices
were silenced …
perfect azure vault, stained
with poison ...
breath of ashen
brutality -
the incense for an
evil anointing …
a somber search for
survivors -
for bodies, answers, hope
for God ...
death screamed at
the sky and
opened the keep -
truth tumbling into the
darkness …
two decades down, yet
it still trembles
whispers ...
waits.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photograph of twisted metal taken at backside of Ground Zero by Anne Buber )
the towers burned -
billows roiling and twisting
into azure
an oily, angry monster to
thrash the morn
consuming two flowers of steel
raping a world of its
innocence ...
the petals fell -
colors fluttering
in the balmy breath of
late summer …
precious petals, rich with
limbs and lives and
loves, that plunged the sunny
splendor, screaming
turning earth to
crimson ...
the heavens wept -
poisoned tears
of mad malice, careless caliphates
crying ashen sin from
a foreign sky -
shrouding a free world,
brought to its knees … where it
found its greatest
strength.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art borrowed copyright-free by the author from public domain files at FreePik / Picasa )
The flawless Nebraskan sky hummed her blue tunes as I drove to work along that silent gravel road. Elegant white clouds wept as they gazed upon the chaos and dead innocence unfolding across the country.
I stared ahead as adrenaline carried me toward town and the need to begin again. The sounds of screams that had jolted me from my television still jolted my heart. Fireballs of horror exploded within my frightened soul.
Hours passed as I tortured my mind with gruesome details no one should ever have to know. Falling bodies and broiled flesh were too horrifying to imagine. The thought of a looming war was beyond my comprehension.
One quarter of a century has passed since that unimaginable Day.
If you don't remember that Day, then I envy you.
If you do remember that Day, then I hope Peace has adopted you.
In the tiny panel room, there’s a distant sound of thunder:
we huddle together, instinctively even though we are not acquaintances
two people caught in a small space while Armageddon happens around us
We exchange first names; I know this is the end
I have already seen several colleagues leap to their death
the woman has torn her pantihose; there are remnants of sash in her hair
her forehead has slashes of soot across it
I never expected this, I told her
an inner voice told me we had to get to a stairwell
We are 82 floors up! I argued. The voice was insistent.
I lift her with me, and force her to head down those stairs
It is dark and dreary. Evil is lurking around every corner.
My heartbeat has never sounded this loud.
That was 9-11-2001.
We are still good friends 24 years later.
ding
ding
ding
ding
ding
ding
ding
ding
eleven dings all together
I know who is dinging my phone without looking
she sends me eleven to twenty photos a day
of what she ate for breakfast
what she is fixing for lunch
her sewing room
We all have one of these in our family
“Mark! Mark!
Talk to him!
Every night
I almost
have a heart attack! “
Horses gallop through my mind
They don't stop they just rewind
Piano keys play lullabies in my dreams
Logic’s tossed into the bin
Love's a game I’ll never win
But I’m diving headfirst in
Or so it seems
I wait for eleven eleven
To whisper wishes to the sky
Love's made me crazy
Can’t you see
She’s the only equation I believe
If she were math
I’d beat a calculator
She’s the answer I’ll solve sooner or later
My little heart
It sparkles bright
Like city lights in the dead of night
Thinking of her makes my thoughts combust
I’m not the same
I’ve lost control
She’s the melody that fills my soul
Love’s a mess but trust me
It’s a must
At Eleven
Maybe I was a blank page
sitting in the classroom.
It was fourth period the one
after science in sixth grade.
I was new at the school and quiet
moved from another state.
Time to start again.
A teacher stood in front
reading Dickenson and frost
as I savored the lines.
I sat with hands on my desk—
the words took on a new life.
I looked around to see
all of us sitting as we should.
We’d been still most of the day.
The teacher said, write. Put pen
to paper. I paused and listened
to words in my head.
From where they came
I didn’t know, but I figured
They were mine.
I bent over the desk and wrote
A poem. My poem. She said one
but the first asked for another.
I held each page up
to the light and said to myself
this is good. I took a deep breath—
they were a part of me.
The teacher gathered our poems
and the words read sang
as she glanced at me.
I was a story waiting to be told.
Today’s anniversary marks twenty four years,
of the Nine-Eleven Attack that was given to fears.
As a bell denotes the dead,
each name will be read.
On a day in history that was awash with tears.
Crack...Boom!
Is it the Big bang...
Or the boom of 9/11,
Everyone goes deaf,
Tears and teeth are out
Are these tears of joy?
Are these teeth of smile?
Is it the beginning or the end?
One boom gave life_
Another took it, and...
For the boy the boom collided
Somehow, he made it out alive.
A miracle, isn't it? a joy in chaos
Luckily it was in USA with U silent.
So many hours,
So many days
So many times, my mind has gone in different ways
I'd think until
I'd think about
I'd think and think, and then I'd write it out
Eleven hundred poems
Eleven hundred writes
Eleven hundred poems, I've written through the nights
So many hours
So many days
So many times, I've written all these days
I'd think until
I'd think about
I'd think and think, and then I'd shout it out
Eleven hundred poems
Eleven hundred writes
Eleven hundred poems, I've written in my life
Eleven hundred poems
Eleven hundred writes
Eleven hundred poems, I've written through the nights
Of eleven children he was the first
and from an early age
for research had a thirst
his love of dogs was no surprise
highly regarded
he received the Nobel Prize
altho' no longer around
of all those that ever were
I clearly like the sound
as with food it goes so well
and if nothing else
the name 'Pavlov' rings a bell
Seven Thirty, Five Thirty and Nine
Paid a visit to Ten Past Eleven
They were tasting the precious mulled wine
Talking sweetly until it struck seven
Seven Thirty then raised from his chair
Said I’m sorry but I have to go
Answered Ten Past Eleven take care
Hope you’ll be back in time at your home
Then Five Thirty fell down fast asleep
As the clock struck eight thirty, raised Nine
Said I’m sorry, but I have to leave
Thanks a lot for the talk and the wine
Then the bell rang and came Five To One
She said sorry Ten, it is all over
Time to close, your guests are on the run
Now they must be beyond cliffs of Dover
I got Five Thirty here on the carpet
He’s your relative, take him away
Book a cab, please send off this old muppet
He’s been drinking too much the whole day
Said Ten Past Eleven, then fell into dream
Five to One left without goodbye
The mess on the table was gulfed in moon beams
For a moment, then vanished in time.
Any Sunday 2015
Long is Sunday, empty streets
a tunnel of silence,
damp pavement, water trickles
into gutters.
Burnt matches, *** butts and
yesterday's leave forms a rust
brown dike, it bursts and floods
tiny pebbles-
flowers on the window sills
admire the rain on glass.
A life spent in a pot fear
no weed and see no evil.
A black cat decides not to
cross the road,
a child in yellow wellies
dreams of tomorrow.
Have I become too old to remember,
A day that shook our senses to the core.
Twenty-Three years ago, to be exact when
Terror became fundamental, no longer to ignore.
The pages of history have clearly been written,
Yet the minds of man have nearly forgot.
They don't know why they have to show up at an airport,
3 hours early, practically strip-down, while nobody's caught.
So let this be a simple, yet distant reminder,
That our freedoms require caution, and always aware.
Because history shows that if taken for granted,
They may be undefended...and that can only bring more terror.
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