Sweet September morn Fall's freshness Natural normalcy was all around us
Soon something shifted, shalt not
Killing came - Monumental Madness
Hate hit our twin towers.
Pierced Pentagon caused fiery flames
"Let's Roll" rested in farmer's field
Suddenly, the crashing sounds of broken glass
as all the doors closed with nowhere to pass
Time stood still as so many innocent souls breath their last
the tragedy which happened unexpectedly so fast
with blood and fire mixing together on the ground
the city transformed into a great battleground
the hand of terror forced its way with a heavy sound
to hit a target for which it was mount to bound
So many left with unfinished dreams after the blow
to leave the world in darkness moving away the glow
no one had a clue even to use a whistle for anyone to know
that within a few seconds the towers will come below
Perhaps this would never had happened should one foresight
while everyone was so busy about their duty under the light
to commit themselves with intelligence to do everything right
unknowingly they got caught by evil in life to lose the fight
The memory of that one day no one can erase from the mind
which continue to stain the hearts of those who escape death behind
The statue of liberty will forever mourn those patriots who are gone
as well as the earth with open arms sit and wait for hose unborn
I must confess:
I've never tried twenty five words or less.
I am a wordy poet at best.
To be concise will be a test.
I tried to write a mini verse
with twenty five words.
Ideas rushed for poetic expression.
Counting words made tension rise,
left the poem unwritten.
Number of Words: 25
************************************************************************************************************
Short lines must I carve,
Or else I shall starve;
Twenty-five words, a firm decree:
Let me fly like bees,
Chasing scents on flowers, free.
Sitting on a porch between two flags
I watch a man ride by on a bike,
a box of magic tied to his back.
Should I stop and ask him about it, Dad?
Should I ask God how you are getting along
in heaven without a bicycle? Without me?
Last night I forgot how it was --
the shape of your face, the slant of your nose,
the way you would laugh in the back
of your throat. You had laughed as you agreed
that my observation of rug makers, or scrub jays,
or magic trick artists was from a different
perspective that yours, one you had not
thought of before.
But now, I cannot recall what your perspective
was, as I balance grief and sanity in my old age.
I've forgotten so much since your absence,
so much of what we shared our many years.
But one thing I do recall, as I was only eight.
You said that you believed in a parallel
universe and asked if I could believe it, too.
The sun was warm on my shoulders
as we stood in our small dirt yard.
Time to still do plenty,
Mind again empty,
Ready for a new chapter,
To replace the old chatter,
With renewed laughter,.
Years to come plenty,
To embrace a new more Fun identity,
Despite an unhinged society.
For my troubled great great nephew. penned in 2025
20% of petrol..Or gas travels through Hormuz..Yet are we being had, not all
Ships are blocked, so maybe 15% percent
Lost, to world demand, its not even a 50%
Drop.? Yet there is talk of lockdowns.' By
Administrations world-wide.. I think well.?
No its obvious...We are being pushed onto
Some ill fated ride.'
You remember those grips
of hurt when you first left,
when fate abruptly changed its course
bringing you in a place unknown -
but I was holding you through prayer
cuddled by my tender taps
of assurance and enthusiasm.
My young self at twenty, bright eyes aglow,
Chasing dreams to move uphill, where streams flow,
Burning midnight candles, with books as guide,
Study twined with sports, a heart open wide,
Helping souls in need, learning from the sage,
Respect for elders, treasured at each stage,
Faith blended with hope, bold strokes on my page.
Witch sat and stewed after seeing her reflection at large
she was so scared at the dress shop, she forgot to say charge
she left empty handed, and is now sitting on her broom
clouded in a wakening of reflection that has brought her gloom
She still thought she was young, agile and pretty.
She looked in the mirror when she thought she was witty.
The old hag that looked back made her feel depressed and blue.
She thought she was twenty-seven, but she is actually seventy-two.
Don’t feel badly at all, her pumpkin team said.
In a few weeks, we will all be moldy and dead.
This did not brighten her outlook one little bit.
She actually gave a little kick to the non-caring chit.
This in- between phase of manhood
gripped me. You , lost in a dimension
between late teen and young adult,
the burden of confidence weighing
taut years and tears down as life's truths
hid that face from free thought.
I was afraid of holding you strongly
in fragile screams come midnight.
Let me help you heal now.
Being twenty, family's your concern
All the time worked as an eager beaver
Forgot your weariness in their dimples
A blend of love and shouldering duties
They have flown away like fully grown gulls
The lens you view life through is very clear
No regrets! Your love's still immutable.
Place: 4th
Being twenty again would be a thrill,
guess that will not happen.
As a child there were many things,
I did not understand.
The green monster jealousy was one,
thinking it was a child's thing.
This would live on in my twenties.
Greetings, me, twenty-year-old youth,
I bring you words of hard-earned truth
in this enlightened gleam.
Mark that which my shining soul emits,
warnings, my aged essence transmits,
fearing that once the morning hits,
you'll soon forget this dream.
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