There are few days in a lifetime that cement themselves to memories of exactly where you were and what you were doing...
This is certainly one of them, even though I am British and thousands of miles away, I know exactly what I was doing on that day I first saw a live picture from New York.
That distance may also give me a different perspective on what happened after the dust settled. However, that is not relevant to a poem written of (and at) the time.
This is a really good reaction to the wave of emotions and confusions that the event provoked. Some of your images are not the same as mine, or things I can easily relate to in the context of 9/11 - but why would they be? The overall impression is enough to overcome these minor discrepancies and share those elements that make this a common thread.
One that should bind all right minded people together.
Post by spiritdancer on Feb 28, 2014 19:37:59 GMT -8
Thank you to those who replied, it'appreciated. I was in a lobby with AAA pilots watching the TV that day, at first we were all shocked ! no pilot moved or spoke, it was a moment that stayed with everyone all day. This poem I wrote soon after 9-11 in order to release the feelings that were in my soul.
Jeanne: Hello visitors....Thanks for dropping by. Lets revive Poetic Horizons. I'm very tired of Facebook and have never felt comfortable posting poetry there. So look around and register. Lets get this place moving!
Mar 30, 2019 1:55:53 GMT -8
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.