"It (The Eleventh of September) was
read before the United States Senate by Senator John Kerry on September 4, 2002,
and is now a permanent part of our country's history. He sent me a
beautiful Congressional Record. You will be able to view the Congressional
Record I received on my Web site: www.thepoeticplumber.com.
When you get to the third page of the website, you will see it listed in one of
the boxes on the left side. Click where is says to and the Congressional
Record will come into view. I had a CD made of it so I could put it on the
website. Officially it was Congressional Record Article 27 of 53, page
S8196."
The morning was quiet, yet loud, in New York City from all the people,
For the next week the families and friends will be at the steeple.
Mourning their loved ones killed in such a disaster,
If only they could have gotten out a little bit faster.
They had no warning, the working women and men,
For their supposedly safe building will collapse just after 10.
Now America is in shock from all this grief,
Nothing can survive this, not even a leaf.
Four days has passed and still many missing,
Streets are crowded with families and friends hugging and kissing.
Helpers from all over the world come to see,
If they can find at least SOMEONE among the debris.
Not only did the innocent workers lose their lives,
But now its the innocent helper who dies.
All around America people are giving their love,
Donating, hoping, and praying for those above.
All at the same time, everyone is upset and mad,
Just thinking about all those families without their mom or dad.
It just makes me want to cry all inside,
God bless and rest in peace for all those who died.
I stare in total disbelief,
heart torn with instant grief.
Plumes of black smoke fill the air,
marking a building no longer there.
I close my eyes, I want to pray,
but my mind doesn't know what to say.
Much like Pearl harbor, so many years ago,
so many gone with one fatal blow.
There are no words to explain,
there are no words to ease the pain.
To those who gave their lives,
Mothers, Fathers, Husbands and Wives,
to all who's lives today did cease,
may your soul find instant peace.
We will honor you and the life you gave,
as a Patriot of "The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave."
A Ghostly War
Written by Lisa Sheridan
Copyright September 18, 2001
A ghostly war
against the invisible and
unconscionable.
A war with heroes that rise in the dust
and sink in the glory, embarrassed by attention.
A nation so strong in its message and support of peace
brought to its knees in prayer.
A Holy war ... but who's?
We are so tolerant and accepting of others.
Our stains of blood in the smoke.
A slap in the face for trying.
Should we turn the other cheek, when our cheek has been so bloodied?
I hope they don't think so.
God bless America and keep us strong.
Two thousand one, nine eleven
Five thousand plus arrive in heaven
As they pass through the gate,
Thousands more appear in wait
A tall bearded man,
wearing a stovepipe hat
steps forward and greets them,
Then says, "Lets chat".
They settle down in seats of clouds
A man named Martin shouts out proud
"I have a dream!" and once he did
The Newcomer says, "Your dream still lives."
Groups of soldiers in blue and gray
Others in khaki, and green then say
"We're from Bull Run, Yorktown, the Maine"
The Newcomer says, "You died not in vain."
From a man on sticks one could hear
"The only thing we have to fear.
The Newcomer says, "We know the rest,
trust us sir, we've passed that test."
A man with a twang from New England shores
Then proclaimed in a voice they had all heard before
"Courage like yours does not hide in caves
You can't bury freedom, in a grave,"
A silence fell within the mist
Somehow the Newcomer knew that this
Meant time had come for her to say
What was in the hearts of the five thousand plus that day
"In the land of the living, we wrote reports,
Watched our children play in sports
Worked our gardens, sang our songs
Went to church and clipped coupons
We smiled, we laughed,
we cried, we fought
Unlike you, great we're not"
The tall man in the stovepipe hat
Stood and said, "don't talk like that!
Look at your country, look and see
You died for freedom, just like me"
Then, before them all appeared a scene
Of ruined streets and twisted beams
Death, destruction, rubble and dust
And people working just 'cause they must
Hauling ash,
lifting stones,
Knee deep in hell
But not alone
"Look! Blackman, whiteman, brownman, and yellow
Side by side helping their fellow!"
So said Martin, as he watched the scene
"Even from nightmares, can be born a dream."
Down below three firemen raised
The colors high into ashen haze
The soldiers above had seen it before
On Iwo Jima back in '44
The man on sticks studied everything closely
Then shared his perceptions on what he saw mostly
"I see pain, I see tears,
I see sorrow - but I don't see fear."
"You left behind husbands and wives
Daughters and sons and so many lives
are suffering now because of this wrong
But look very closely. You're not really gone.
All of those people, even those you've never met
All of their lives, they'll never forget
Don't you see what has happened?
Don't you see what you've done?
You've brought them together, together as one.
The man named Abe stood and said
"Welcome my friends," and from there he led,
five thousand Newcomers, all heroes to heaven
On this day of our Lord, two thousand one nine eleven.
Written by:
Paul Spreadbury, York Beach, ME
A note to our visitors: We had
posted this poem as soon as we received it in our E-mail. On November 17,
2001 we received an E-mail from Mark Buechler advising us who the author was
with a copy of the original poem. We share a note with you from the
author, Paul Spreadbury, written to Mark in response to his inquiry on whether
Mr. Spreadbury was the author.
Hello Mark,
Yes, I did write the poem. I wrote it three
days after the attack in response to my daughter's question regarding what, if
any, value was derived from the death of all those people. I have had some
folks with degrees in English, published writers and others write back with
compliments and editorial suggestions. All are welcome and appreciated. I
didn't write it for any reason other than to express my own personal feelings
and I posted it in hopes that children (especially those most directly
effected) would get some sense that ALL life has value and ALL life
contributes to the continuation of the good. Anyway, the version you have is
as I wrote it and I hope that you like it.
Thanks for writing and God Bless.
Paul Spreadbury
Thank you Mr. Spreadbury for sharing this
wonderful poem with visitors to this page.
On Monday we emailed jokes.
On Tuesday we did not.
On Monday we thought that we were secure.
On Tuesday we learned better.
On Monday we were talking about heroes as being athletes.
On Tuesday we relearned who our heroes are.
On Monday we were irritated that our rebate checks had not arrived.
On Tuesday we gave money away to people we had never met.
On Monday there were people fighting against praying in schools.
On Tuesday you would have been hard pressed to find a school where someone was not praying.
On Monday people argued with their kids about picking up their room.
On Tuesday the same people could not get home fast enough to hug their kids.
On Monday people were upset that they had to wait 6 minutes in a fast
food drive through line.
On Tuesday people didn't care about waiting up to 6 hours to give blood for the dying.
On Monday we waved our flags signifying our cultural diversity.
On Tuesday we waved only the American flag.
On Monday there were people trying to separate each other by race, sex,
color and creed.
On Tuesday they were all holding hands.
On Monday we were men or women, black or white, old or young, rich or
poor, gay or straight, Christian or non-Christian.
On Tuesday we were Americans.
On Monday politicians argued about budget surpluses.
On Tuesday grief stricken they sang 'God Bless America'.
On Monday the President was going to Florida to read to children.
On Tuesday he returned to Washington to protect our children.
On Monday we had families.
On Tuesday we had orphans.
On Monday people went to work as usual,
On Tuesday they died.
On Monday people were fighting the 10 commandments on government property.
On Tuesday the same people all said 'God help us all' while thinking 'Thou shall not kill'.
It is sadly ironic how it takes horrific events to place things into perspective, but it has. The lessons learned this week, the things
we have taken for granted, the things that have been forgotten or overlooked, hopefully will never be forgotten again.
I am the flag of the United States of America. My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.
I stand watch in America's halls of justice.
I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up and see me.
I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.
I stand for freedom.
I am confident. I am arrogant. I am proud.
When I am flown with my fellow banners, my head is a little higher, my colors a little truer.
I bow to no one! I am recognized all over the world.
I am worshipped - I am saluted.
I am loved - I am revered. I am respected - and I am feared.
I have fought in every battle of every war for more then 200 years.
I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appamatox.
I was there at San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, in the Argonne Forest,
Anzio, Rome and the beaches of Normandy, Guam. Okinawa, Korea and KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam.
I was there. I led my troops,
I was dirty, battleworn and tired, but my soldiers cheered me
And I was proud.
I have been burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt, for I am invincible.
I have been soiled upon, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of my country.
And when it's by those whom I've served in battle-it hurts.
But I shall overcome - for I am strong.
I have slipped the bonds of Earth and stood watch over the uncharted
frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.
When I am torn into strips and used as bandages for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent at
the grave of their fallen son or daughter, I am proud.
MY NAME IS OLD GLORY
LONG MAY I WAVE.
DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN:
LONG MAY I WAVE
PLEASE FORWARD MY MESSAGE TO ALL WHO
STILL LOVE AND RESPECT ME,
THAT I MAY FLY PROUDLY FOR
ANOTHER TWO HUNDRED YEARS.
Every U down in Uville liked U.S. a lot,
But the Binch, who lived Far East of Uville, did not.
The Binch hated U.S! the whole U.S. way!
Now don't ask me why, for nobody can say,
It could be his turban was screwed on too tight.
Or the sun from the desert had beaten too bright
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
But, Whatever the reason, his heart or his turban,
He stood facing Uville, the part that was urban.
"They're doing their business," he snarled from his perch.
"They're raising their families! They're going to church!
They're leading the world, and their empire is thriving,
I MUST keep the S's and U's from surviving!"
Tomorrow, he knew, all the U's and the S's,
Would put on their pants and their shirts and their dresses,
They'd go to their offices, playgrounds and schools,
And abide by their U and S values and rules,
And then they'd do something he liked least of all,
Every U down in U-ville, the tall and the small,
Would stand all united, each U and each S,
And they'd sing Uville's anthem, "God bless us! God bless!"
All around their Twin Towers of Uville, they'd stand,
and their voices would drown every sound in the land.
"I must stop that singing," Binch said with a smirk,
And he had an idea--an idea that might work!
The Binch stole some U airplanes in U morning hours,
And crashed them right into the Uville Twin Towers.
"They'll wake to disaster!" he snickered, so sour,
"And how can they sing when they can't find a tower?"
The Binch cocked his ear as they woke from their sleeping,
All set to enjoy their U-wailing and weeping,
Instead he heard something that started quite low,
And it built up quite slow, but it started to grow--
And the Binch heard the most unpredictable thing...
And he couldn't believe it--they started to sing!
He stared down at U-ville, not trusting his eyes,
What he saw was a shocking, disgusting surprise!
Every U down in U-ville, the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any towers at all!
He HADN'T stopped U-Ville from singing! It sung!
For down deep in the hearts of the old and the young,
Those Twin Towers were standing, called Hope and called Pride,
And you can't smash the towers we hold deep inside.
So we circle the sites where our heroes did fall,
With a hand in each hand of the tall and the small,
And we mourn for our losses while knowing we'll cope,
For we still have inside that U-Pride and U-Hope.
For America means a bit more than tall towers,
It means more than wealth or political powers,
It's more than our enemies ever could guess,
So may God bless America! Bless us! God bless!
Rob Suggs is an author, illustrator and humorist living in Atlanta, Georgia.
The following poem was written by my daughter, Cheryl Sawyer, a Professor at the University of Houston Clear Lake in the Counseling Department. I think it is very poignant.
As the soot and dirt and ash rained down,
We became one color.
As we carried each other down the stairs of the burning building,
We became one class.
As we lit candles of waiting and hope
We became one generation.
As the firefighters and police officers fought their way into the inferno
We became one gender.
As we fell to our knees in prayer for strength,
We became one faith.
As we whispered or shouted words of encouragement,
We spoke one language.
As we gave our blood in lines a mile long,
We became one body.
As we mourned together the great loss
We became one family.
As we cried tears of grief and loss
We became one soul.
As we retell with pride of the sacrifice of heros
We become one people.
We are
One color
One class
One generation
One gender
One faith
One language
One body
One family
One soul
One people
We are The Power of One.
We are United.
We are America.
A sad day for America
as rejoicing rang from hell
awakening a mighty giant
the day the towers fell.
Our hearts were saddened
as we watched this vicious act unfold
as innocence met a fiery death
and seeds of war were sowed.
Shouts rang out from the middle east
that Allah has done his good
but no God joys in faultless deaths
though certain cowards could.
America just sort of glides along
but don't step on her toes
for her belief in right and justice
will stomp out freedoms foes.
In memory of all those who perished; the passengers and the pilots on the
United Air and AA flights, the workers in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, and all the innocent bystanders. Our prayers go out to the
friends and families of the deceased.
If I knew it would be the last time
That I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly
And pray the Lord, your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time
That I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss
And call you back for one more.
If I knew it would be the last time
I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word,
So I could play them back day after day.
If I knew it would be the last time,
I could spare an extra minute
To stop and say "I love you,"
Instead of assuming you would KNOW I do.
If I knew it would be the last time
I would be there to share your day,
Well I'm sure you'll have so many more,
So I can let just this one slip away.
For surely there's always tomorrow
To make up for an oversight,
And we always get a second chance
To make everything just right.
There will always be another day
To say "I love you,"
And certainly there's another chance
To say our "Anything I can do?"
But just in case I might be wrong,
And today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you
And I hope we never forget.
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
Young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance
You get to hold your loved one tight.
So if you're waiting for tomorrow,
Why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes,
You'll surely regret the day,
That you didn't take that extra time
For a smile, a hug, or a kiss
And you were too busy to grant someone,
What turned out to be their one last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today,
And whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them
And that you'll always hold them dear
Take time to say "I'm sorry,"
"Please forgive me," "Thank you," or "It's okay."
And if tomorrow never comes,
You'll have no regrets about today.
Usama Bin Laden, your time is short;
We'd rather you die, than come to court.
Why are you hiding if it was in God's name?
Your just a punk with a turban; a pathetic shame.
I have a question, about your theory and laws;
"How come you never die for the cause?"
Is it because you're a coward who counts on others?
Well here in America, we stand by our brothers.
As is usual, you failed in your mission;
If you expected pure chaos, you can keep on wishin'
Americans are now focused and stronger than ever;
Your death has become our next endeavor.
What you tried to kill, doesn't live in our walls;
it's not in buildings or shopping malls.
If all of our structures came crashing down;
It would still be there, safe and sound.
Because pride and courage can't be destroyed;
Even if the towers leave a deep void.
We'll band together and fill the holes
We'll bury our dead and bless their souls.
But then our energy will focus on you;
And you'll feel the wrath of the Red, White and Blue.
So slither and hide like a snake in the grass;
Because America's coming to kick your ass!!!
This poem was written by a Marine stationed in
Okinawa Japan. The following is his request. I think it is reasonable:
PLEASE. Would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you
can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S.
service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let's
try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and
think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us. Please,
do your small part to plant this small seed.
'Twas the night before Ramadan, and all through the cave
Not a creature was stirring; it felt like a grave.
The turbans were hung by the firepit with care,
In hopes that the Air Force would not soon be there.
The soldiers were restless without any beds,
While visions of air strikes flashed into their heads.
Osama in his burkha and I in my goatskin cap,
Had just settled down for a cold, winter's nap,
When out on the ledge there arose such a clatter,
I grabbed my Kalashnikov to see what was the matter.
Away from the racket I ran like a girl,
Tripped over a goat; into a ball I did curl.
The moon shone down on the new-fallen snow
And lit up the valley with an ominous glow,
When, what (to my one good eye) should suddenly appear,
But a dozen Apaches, and tanks in the rear,
And their leader, so fearless, his troops he did push,
I knew in an instant it must be George Bush.
More rapid than eagles his forces they came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called out our names;
"Now Omar! Osama! Muhammad! Abdul!
We come for you now; we've taken Kabul!
To the top of the cliffs! To the back of their caves!
When you chose this war, you dug your own graves!"
As the dry leaves that before the assault choppers fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, light up the sky,
So up to the ledge his forces they flew.
With full magazines, and flame-throwers too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard with a thud.
The explosions of Tomahawks; not one was a dud.
As I chambered my rifle, and was turning around,
Osama was there, disguised in a gown.
He was dressed all in drag, from his head to his toes,
And he said he would flee while I held off his foes;
A bundle of money he had stuffed in his pack,
He said "I'm going to Baghdad and I'm not looking back!"
His eyes were all glassy; he trembled with fear;
The American bombs, they rang in his ears.
He saddled his goat, then turned tail and fled,
But a Marine Corps sniper got him right in the head.
I watched with cold fear as his body did slump;
The goat threw him off; he fell with a thump.
And so, there I stood, my plans all destroyed,
About to suffer a fate I could not avoid;
I dropped to my knees; asked Allah for help,
His voice boomed in my ears, "You ignorant whelp!
I gave you the Bible, the Torah and Koran,
But you were too arrogant to understand,
I told you to honor your neighbors and wives;
not to enslave them, or degrade their lives!
You invoke My name to sanction your deeds,
But you are the last thing that this world needs.
And so, I'll send you and bin Laden to Hell."
The last words I heard, as the bombs fell,
Were from George Bush himself as he mounted the wall,
"One nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all!"
"The United States is under attack" was all I could hear
On the radio and TV, now the nation was in fear.
The bystanders looking pointing above their heads
Family members calling in hopes loved ones weren't dead.
Sirens started blaring, cries were certainly heard
"Oh my God" was the consensus of American words.
Tears started pouring as the television showed the world
The second plane hitting, more like it hurled.
Terrorist attacked in hopes to put us in despair
Pearl Harbor is the only attack for US to compare
The tragedy, the lives lost with no remorse.
Al-Quida received our attention from using blunt force.
After what seemed like forever, the towers started to fall.
People started running, the cameras caught it all.
I remember desperate acts of people falling to their death
I sat in my living room crying, just holding my breath.
"How could this happen, I don't understand
Who could be bold enough to touch on our land?"
I couldn't conceive of the actions taking place
I couldn't imagine the people that were lost that couldn't be replaced.
I thought of our Navy and armed forces making things right
But death could reach my life in their retaliating fight.
The city was covered in dust and smoke
It was so bad you could hear the reporters even choke.
The blanket filled the air and Ground Zero slowly emerged
Those that were inside and heroes that went in were now submerged
Under the drywall, concrete, office supplies and parts of planes
Many will have death of a parent and loved one to explain
To children that were left behind on September 11, 2001
The rebuilding of our Nation has now begun.
Family members gathered, loved ones soon came
To Ground Zero wishing to some how reclaim
That morning, that afternoon, all those days to follow
All the events of America were very hard to swallow.
But we got together and lit a candle, strength in the flame
We stood together with one thing to proclaim
The US isn't falling, we will stand our ground
And when you awoke the next morning patriotism was found.
Flags were flying high on houses across the states
In cars, on buses, on clothes, on anything we could create.
The building may have fallen, but the foundation didn't break
Those that attacked us soon found that mistake.
We as a nation stood as one on that tragic day
And that is how we as a Nation should stay.
To the families, loved ones, and lost... your memory will never depart.
You touched the Nation, and will remain in our hearts.
Those twin towers
Standing tall with pride,
Fell with grieving hearts.
Stunned, America cried.
But we're still standing.
Bin Laden tried
To crush our land,
But we stood our ground
With our flag in hand
And we're still standing.
Red for the valor
And the blood that fell.
White for the purity
Our heroes tell.
Blue for the justice
That will be done,
Proving once more
These colors don't run
So much fear
So much pain
Will we ever really
Be whole again
We must go on
Begin to heal
But for many, to do so
Would seem unreal
The holes are left
The people gone
Would they want
Us to carry on?
To keep going, be happy
This they’d want us to do
But to “Fight the good fight”…
Would they want this, too?
We say they would
But are we sure?
Their minds are now clear;
Their hearts now pure.
So maybe they’d say
To look around
To take a break
To slow things down
That time is a treasure
A precious gift
That those you loved
Are all that you’ll miss
That we waste so much time
Attaining wealth
When the gold is our families
And friends and health
We should celebrate difference
And learn about those
Who live elsewhere, eat other foods,
Wear different clothes
That people are people
Whoever we are
We each carry inside us
Our personal star
Which we hope OR we pray
If we live our lives right
Will ascend to the heavens
And forever shine bright
If the things that you’ve done
In your life could be graphed
Then the tippy top point
Should be times that you laughed
To keep the same path
To continue along
Would mean we’ve learned nothing
And that MUST be wrong
For it’s our intellect
That sets us apart
So let’s WALK UPRIGHT
And make a new start.
In the land of corruption,
With their plans of destruction,
It's all just a delusion,
And they've gone too far.
We need a quick solution,
To stop whoever they are.
The mighty U.S.A.
Will fight to save the day.
There's no justification,
In what they've done to our nation.
Their way of thinking is clouded,
With their holy war.
There's nothing holy about it,
The evil they have in store.
Their bio-chemical warfare,
Is more than we can all bear.
We need a magic potion,
That sends out love and emotion.
To cause their evil to fail,
So peace on earth can prevail.
Submitted 10/5/05 As a firefighter, I decided I'd send along a poem I
wrote to help folks understand what might have happened that horrific day. There
are several layers of meaning marbled within it; words of healing as well. It is
written in iambic pentameter, the preferred style of Robert Service - you'll
find the rhythm.
"Calling All Angels! Calling All Angels!" Went out his thunderous plea.
"I am thy Lord beseeching my horde to assemble in front of me!"
In a flash the angels did dash to gather at His feet,
And hear His plan to help all man by use of Heaven's elite.
"The Devil's made a play this September day to hurt the ones I love,
He's loosed upon earth his demonic worth now push has come to shove.
I'll not stand by and have good men die without awareness in their heart,
So this day in my plan-full way a battle I'm going to start."
"Gabriel old friend to this end welcome every woman and man,
That'll come our way this fateful day who died by Satan's hand.
And before you go you need to know a few you'll bring straight to me,
Firefighters all now standing tall known as The Three-Forty-Three."
With Gabriel gone and quiet the throng they wondered at His plan,
To send and quell the flames of hell by use of mortal man.
All manner of doubt filled the strongest and stout of Heaven's holy array,
And fear fell upon the heavenly throng at the plan the Lord set this day.
"I can sense in thy hearts hesitation to start a battle you don't understand,
But confused as you Satan is too and that is the heart of my plan.
Fear yea not for what I've wrought I'll ask none here to face his fork,
But I'll send into hell those who fell the firefighters from New York!"
Then Lord raised his staff and began to laugh in roaring thunderous glee,
And in a booming blaze they stepped from a haze The Angelic Three-Forty-Three.
They fell into line in very short time making perfect formations of rows,
And the Lord caused to slip onto every man's hip a golden heavenly hose.
"The gravest mistake Satan did make when he struck down these men so brave,
Thinking idle I'd stand not extending my hand and their souls I would not save.
Have no fear for the men standing here the way to his place they know well,
For verily each day they've collected their pay by stepping into hell.
These men know their task now angels I ask that you hasten straight to earth,
Then comfort their friends when the tally begins and they start to question their worth.
Console them with wings and all heavenly things on their shoulder your head is to rest,
Send whispers of thanks from our heavenly ranks, say: 'God knows you did your best.'"
Calling All Angels
Written by Lea MacDonald
SFFD-Captain-227
Note from ButlerWebs (Linda & Rich)...We used to have
a much longer list of links for Poems about September 11th. How soon
everyone forgets...most of the pages we had listed no longer exist. Sad.
However, Roger
Hancock (The Poet Patriot) sent us a long list of links with other Poems from
September 11th and we share them with you. THANKS ROGER! Be sure to
see his wonderful Website: www.poetpatriot.com
Quick Links to Patriotic Pages from ButlerWebs:
