The Emporium Gazette
Issue 30 -- October 2001

Poetry World ~ Remembering 9/11
by Bob Nailor

Emotions. Every person that watched the horror unfold was gripped with emotion. Some said that the person or persons involved in this act had no emotions. That is a fallacy. Even cold-hearted is an emotion.

Poetry is the ultimate vehicle for emotions because it allows us to express our thoughts in short phrases or eloquent stanzas. Free verse has become a popular vehicle to express one's inner thoughts; although rhyming is still accepable.

A point in one's life, any point, can be the catalyst necessary to emote those words to paper: death, love, birth, hate, truth, lie, sunset, sunrise, a storm, a sunny day, even a canary's song. The list is as varied as the poetry produced.

As we look back on Tuesday, September 11, 2001, let the emotions you feel be put on paper. Each of us will reflect on the same incidents with different views; share them with friends and loved ones.

Here's a sampling...

by Barbara Rollins

Evil smirks from the witness chair.
Stench creeps,
curling tendrils of arrogance
to entwine jurors

Distance fails to filter filth
beyond touch of cleansing
so breathing taints the soul.


by Olaf

Today we shall be remembered
Today we woke up to a normal world
Today we saw our loved ones and talked to them
Today we mingled with the stream of life in the heart of the city

Suddenly the lights are gone,
Darkness has come
Dust and ash fill our world
Pain and anguish prevails, our consciousness narrows down,
Fading in the terror of the night.

Today we shall be remembered
Today we died in a world of chaos
Today we had our lives stolen from us
Today we will not have died in vain

Today our light shall shine and glowing
From the darkness we shall remind
That today we died as free people in a free world
Today our legacy is that we are still free in eternity.


by Robert Nailor

I sit here with my father.
Years ago a decorated
Hero of World War II.
Now consumed with cancer.
I hold his hand,
We watch tv.
The towers are on fire.

Today he's in his own world,
Of morphine induced delusions.
Yet a tear wells out the corner
Of his eye to trace a path
Down his cheek.
I hold his hand
We watch tv.
The towers are on fire.

Does he realize that the Trade World Center is afire?
The Pentagon has been attacked?
This pillar of my youth
Now a frail shell of yesterday.
I hold his hand
We watch tv.
The towers are on fire.

The horror unfolds like demons unleashed,
Through smoke and flames and screams.
I'm sure he understands
American soil has been ravaged.
I hold his hand
We watch tv.
The towers are on fire.

Patriotism has burned within his body
Korea, Vietnam, even during the Gulf.
Today the Red, White and Blue
Flows within each of us
I hold his hand
We watch tv.
The towers are on fire.

His eyes unglazed, a lucid moment.
A wavering finger points at the set.
He draws a breath, another tear drops free.
"The country has been raped," he murmurs.
"God bless America"
He whispers out.
The towers are no more.

Bob Nailor is author of "The Secret Voice," an Amish-Christian story, "Pangaea, Eden Lost," an adventure story, "Three Steps: The Journeys of Ayrold," a Celtic fantasy, and "2012: Timeline Apocalypse," an end-of-time tale. He is also included in several anthologies and collections. Check his website at

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