Manhattan Mourning

Manhattan morning singed,

sincerely mourning twins;

twinging; gingerly lingering

in remembering ringing

smoke and suffering and silence and


screaming, suffocated in newly created catacombs.


so today, I combed carefully through the news and somehow come to:


The Poetry of Islamic Terrorists;



It’s good;

beautiful and colorful and moving;

I move too,

confused, consumed; wrought thoughts of


People breathing verse; immersed in the fluorescent pulse and flush of brilliant imagery, free from curling clouds, muddy blood in New York’s thudding skyline; rhymes designed without the grime, crime, time; tomb—tuning out the looming doom, boom; plumes blooming from open wounds.


I wonder if they knew, what they flew into,

through views tattooed on their eyelids;


did they think death poetic? 

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression. Always let poetry fill your life. Keep expressing your heart.  

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741