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Notes From A Metro Line
Search and Rescue inspect the subway after 9-11 attacks.
Trade Center – MBTA Silver_Line
Dverse poets asked us to write about what we learnt or felt about times that have gone from Darkness to the Light. Since tomorrow is the anniversary of 9-11, I decided to write a poem about the destruction of the subway, a rather dark place, even when there aren’t terrorist attacks. However, since WTC came down, the MBTA station has been rebuilt and is quite a bright and beautiful place.
Notes From A Metro Line
fragile arcs caught by gleaming hues
weave magic, elude sight.
silver crowned unicorns
curl on incoming rainbow,
decamp south
to lodge from journeys end,
awake from oblivion,
like jewels on an inanimate face.
embittered minutemen
on the express, caress collision.
metropolitan heroes
crushed on rush hour train,
breathe the stench
of another’s warm lunch sandwich,
slick lettuce curled,
no time for consumption.
subway spray overlays
vacuous white non-visaged,
empty headed faces forward —
flutter in spiritual positions
most humans occupy these days.
on the intimate horizon,
though a dark pane,
a plethora of iridescent
glow-in-the-dark paint splatter
stupefies artistic vision.
green ocean spray choreography
river snakes unnoticed,
stealing along shiny park grass,
through faux city boulevards
dumped beyond urban walls.
as we ride the rattle can,
angels fly in masterpieces
strewn around fairy tale readings
found in museums above.
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Hear this
on Sound Cloud
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Written for:
Poetics–Bringing Light to Darkness
Image credits: wikepedia entry World Trade Center (MBTA station) and North Shore Journal Article September 11 – photos to remember that day
Last View of the Towers
A view from Jersey City, N.J., of the Manhattan skyline with the twin towers in March 2000.
Last View of the Towers
On Dec 24, 1999 I was at the easternmost edge of Jersey City. Stars shined over Manhattan and I realized that in all my years, there was never a clearer New York City sky. Crisp, cold and magical, how was I to know it would be the last time I’d see the World Trade Center?
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Written for:
Short Story Slam Week 20: Love In Creativity Project, All Is Welcome!
The challenge was to write a short story or a poem in exactly 55 words.
Image Credit to Boston Globe
Not all Heroes Cried
Rescue team hunts through the steel wreckage for survivors.
Not all Heroes Cried
Flying across fields of rebar
as if they were fields of grass,
no concern for the deep black holes
of torn metal, wood and glass.
Where rescuers could not attempt,
our heroes mounted without trouble,
exceeding expectations
in deposits of baking rubble.
When they came upon a scent,
they scurried in significant rush.
Steadfastly they worked for reward ―
toys or water bottles to crush.
Comforting and making people laugh,
they were loving and most giving.
Their biggest reward, was to locate souls:
so they could play with the living.
Not all heroes cried,
they just didn’t wag their tails,
their noses and their hearts
soothing the pain of those not lost.
They came to find the living,
but living were not there.
Three dead bodies in half an hour
“Get the body bag.”
Twenty pieces of DNA
“Get the ice cooler.”
In their search, each one was grey ―
the Big Mutts and the Small.
Jumping on heaps of melted steel
toward endlessness they did crawl.
Their bloody paws were bandaged up,
eyes and noses filled with grunge,
exposed to toxic materials which
were washed with hose and sponge.
They were there for all the rescuers,
more loving than partners and peers.
Some played fetch to help others relax.
They soothed those with heavy tears.
Thunder, and Storm were just as dry
As Porkchop, Jax and Servus.
The rescuers gave away their drinks,
before quenching their own thirsts.
Not all heroes cried,
they just didn’t wag their tails,
their noses and their hearts
soothing the pain of those not lost.
They came to find the living,
but living were not there.
Three dead bodies in half an hour
“Get the body bag.”
Twenty pieces of DNA
“Get the ice cooler.”
Tascha ceaselessly gave her all
‘til overcome by heat and smoke.
Bretagne managed to take a snooze
so she wouldn’t have a stroke.
Billy calmed himself right down,
traversing treacherous terrains.
Wolf, Bear, Eagle, and Trackr
lived up to their doggie names.
Dorado, Roselle, Salty, Max, Wuss
all made it out alive.
Kaiser choked on hazardous soot
when, into debris, he took a dive.
Sunny Boy stayed on task
although it was so dreary.
Woody, Jake, and Hoke,
found no one, then got leary.
Not all heroes cried,
they just didn’t wag their tails,
their noses and their hearts
soothing the pain of those not lost.
They came to find the living,
but living were not there.
Three dead bodies in half an hour
“Get the body bag.”
Twenty pieces of DNA
“Get the ice cooler.”
There are stories about Cowboy and Red,
Or about Thunder, if you prefer.
Dusty arrived there clean in heart,
but left with contaminated fur.
They came in many sizes.
They came from any breed.
Abbey, Thea, Jena, Sue, Ivey, Mika
were all good girls indeed.
Riley, Willow, Cody, Hawk ―
each one was some kind of hero.
Moxie, Tara, Guinness, Merlyn
or Gus, Cowboy, Sirus, or Apollo.
Two sets of list must exist,
a short one for those who came out,
a longer one for those who searched,
although doing it with doubt.
Not all heroes cried,
they just didn’t wag their tails,
their noses and their hearts
soothing the pain of those not lost.
They came to find the living,
but living were not there.
Three dead bodies in half an hour
“Get the body bag.”
Twenty pieces of DNA
“Get the ice cooler.”
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The other day @NannersMom asked me to write a 9-11 poem about the dogs who were involved in the the 9-11 tragedy. It took research, and also a lot of tears. It was not easy to get away from the emotions, and get to writing it. But I did it. Yay.
Then @RaneeDillon was kind enough to edit it for me, so I could get it posted. Once she put her hands on it, it just started flowing so nicely. Wow.
Pciture credit: http://www.easyvegan.info/2007/09/11/remembering-the-non-human-heroes-of-9-11/ (it’s a FEMA picture)
Also on:
Challenge by Mark Kerstetter
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ZONGRIK 