On the 11th of September
A day we should all remember
That sad day the Twin Towers came falling down
Crashing to the ground
That fateful, infamous day
When Americans passed away
2,977 unfortunate souls
Went up to become God's Guardian Angels
And let's remember as well
Those who died from the toxins in the air from hell
Those Brave Police Officers, Firemen, EMTs and brave Citizens
To rescue people, went back in again and again
Now, God's Guardian Angels watch over us
As we do dangerous things and such
Things that must be done, understand?
To save people in danger, as many as we can
So, let's bow our heads and say a prayer
For our Heroes who die every day everywhere
Our Heroes who may not always get recognized
But are Brave Heroes none the less in our eyes
When you relax after your day is done
Please remember our Heroic Unlucky Ones
Who are sadly no longer here
To Them, raise a cup, drink a toast of wine, spirits or beer
Remember we must!
Cause when the debris is cleared and cleared the dust
The Terrible War Site is gone
But the Memories live on...
Copyright ©? Jeff W. Watson, September 11, 2026
My primary function is an honourable one
As it involves the lives of others.
You are safe to sail for work or fun
Knowing you'll return home to your mothers.
Often, my rotating beam of light
Is poetically called a beacon of hope
As a symbol to encourage those in plight
To remind them that they can cope.
So in the midst of a wild storm,
Be it literal or metaphorical,
I am the constant, reliable norm.
My record is historical.
I'm best suited to this task. God bless my tailor!
Wethered, but will always be a guardian to the sailor.
Everyone wants an adventure, and a place to return to
An offer they simply cannot refuse
A worthwhile experience to be told for ages
And how can that be given?
Its simple really
Camaradrie
Unhinged letters to one another
Making the other laugh
A journey meant for those who can take
Acceptance of flaws
Protecting each others peace
The only way to turn cracks into art pieces
A promise to our future selves
A bond to be passed down to generations
Promises under the moon
Cherishing of achievements
Guardians to each others soul
Giving in is inevitable
A golden reward
Waiting for those who are willing to choose it
Something I still lack
Yet it could be yours-
If you are willing
The Black Dust of Hell: Choking on the Grave
The poisonous venom that spills from your tongue,
The venomous anthems your malice has sung,
Descends to the abyss as a billowing cloud
A black dust of hell that will fashion your shroud.
You spoke without mercy, you bled without care,
But silence awaits in the tomb of despair.
For once you are broken and dropped in the clay,
The shadows you summoned are coming to play.
The ash of your cruelties will gather and rise,
To choke out the light from your dead, hollow eyes.
That mountain of malice will turn to a bill,
An absolute ledger you cannot fulfill.
For every vile whisper and treacherous spark,
You will swallow the soot as you rot in the dark.
Not a breath goes unchecked, not a malice is spared
You will choke on the horrors your big mouth prepared.
The Guardian of Hell: A Sinner's Slumber
The obsidian tunnels of this godless realm,
Uncoil like serpents where I blindly tread.
A shadow stalks, a nightmare at the helm,
Feeding upon the frantic steps I dread.
What does he want, this shadow in the smoke?
My ankles drag the burning chains of hell.
He stands above me, draped in misery's cloak,
The brutal keeper of a silent cell.
For what unknown transgression do I weep?
I bear a crushing weight I cannot name.
The dark is suffocating, fierce, and deep,
A blind expanse of agony and shame.
Then through the vault, his iron voice commands:
"Halt, sinner, halt! And face my burning glare!"
The Lord of Ash before my terror stands,
And flings me down into the deep despair.
"Wake up!" he roars, "The pit has claimed its prize!
Confess your hidden crime into the night!
Shatter the silence, strip away the lies,
And only then shall you return to light!"
Deep beneath the twisted root,
Where silence wears a felt boot,
The mother curls in circles tight,
A ring of warmth against the night.
Her brush is draped like silken thread,
A pillow for each tiny head.
With silver tongue and patient grace,
She washes every fuzzy face;
A rhythmic stroke, a tender sweep,
To lull her restless kits to sleep.
She nicks the clay and clears the air,
The mistress of her earthen lair.
When hunger nips at bellies small,
She answers to their whimpering call.
She leaves the warmth of huddle and home,
Through silvered wilds and woods to roam.
She answers every hungry need,
And gives her waiting kits a feed.
But if the heavy foot should fall,
Or shadow loom against the wall,
The mother transforms—sharp and keen,
The fiercest flame that’s ever been.
With bared tooth and a warning low,
She stands between them and foe.
In golden coat and eyes of fire,
She is the shield, a mother’s desire.
Until the stars begin to pale,
And dawn unfolds its violet veil,
She keeps the watch, the sacred trust,
Amidst the roots and cooling dust.
book of secrets has a guardian eager and bright
ebony dragon conceals him every single night
vampires and ghouls are searching for his book hard
book of secrets is not worried, she has an amazing guard
On a serene full moon night in January
With sprinkling stars in the clear sky
I held you in my arms with gratitude and joy
Now my baby, as the years have passed
You have become a guardian for us all
You are very special and I want you to know
That you are loved beyond your imagination
Just as the very first day you came to me
You are still a great gift my adorable son
I gaze at the moon.
Always wondering if you are up there.
Feel you're watching over me.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Guardian angel, I thank you so much for all your watch and for leading me each day.
Guardian angel appointed to me, I thank you today and always.
Guardian angel, I feel you near, helping me grow and leading me through this life.
Guardian angel, thank you for giving me presence and time and all the things that have made my life feel whole.
Guardian angel appointed by God, I want to thank you and make you proud.
Guardian angel, I remember all the times I felt down, and we prayed, making me feel better with each moment, with each prayer.
Guardian angel I am happy to call you out and thank you each day.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
A Guardian interview
In the Guardian this morning
A man, who is also rich, has written a book
about women and relationships
Apparently, he is a psychologist as well
The man is wildly successful, the paper
reserved several pages to sing his praise
It tells us that women love successful men
That leaves out 95% of men who are not
successful, but do get married to women
who love them
Galloway is his name, but he is not our
George, his book is aimed at a class of people
that has yet to discover the real world
His book is also anti-feminist, as women are
regarded as a price to those who are
economically success full
Star/Steer poem: This is about a traveler navigating the harsh Free State winter relying on the stars for direction and solace.
The Free State veld a canvas stark and white,
Icy Easterly winds cut through me to the bone.
A lonely traveler in the freezing Tweeling night,
I walk a path to a far away home.
The snow clad earth my bed, the sky my roof,
against the cold my spirit stands as proof.
Above the kapok a brilliant fierce guiding star
Ignites the darkness with its age begrimed flame.
It steers me to my home afar, though
frost bitten I whisper his name
It tells a story of resilience and might,
And guides me safely till morning light.
Midst the violent summer storm’s wrath,
He stood on the front porch fearlessly.
In the thunder roar or lightning strike,
Unafraid, he stood stoically.
When enquired, no direct answer came.
Daring stunt or curiosity,
A meteorological game.
Why put his life in such jeopardy?
Inside the house was another scene,
His wife and children were cowering.
On a bed mattress of coiled steel springs,
An antenna of sorts for lightning
Despite all pleas for him to retreat,
Boldly, he gazed at the angry sky.
Until the storm played its last drumbeat,
He bade it a respectful goodbye.
Midst the violent summer storm’s wrath,
He stood on the front porch fearlessly.
In the thunder roar or lightning strike,
Unafraid, he stood stoically.
When enquired, no direct answer came.
Daring stunt or curiosity,
A meteorological game.
Why put his life in such jeopardy?
Inside the house was another scene,
His wife and children were cowering.
On a bed mattress of coiled steel springs,
An antenna of sorts for lightning
Despite all pleas for him to retreat,
Boldly, he gazed at the angry sky.
Until the storm played its last drumbeat,
He bade it a respectful goodbye.
Those shadows you see
are not meant to frighten.
They are angels watching over
your life.
The angels in the day
are clusters of clouds
guiding your way.
The angels you feel
are the love ones you miss.
They are keeping your memories alive.
Memories are meant to last,
not pass.
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