The TV flickers on
outside the warm wind blows
autumn's peeking in
Man's voice speaks
there's a fear wrapped around it
though he tries to be brave
I pause
hooking my bag over my shoulder
I'm on my way out
His voice becomes quicker
CNN, BBC journalists
sound confused
I look up to the screen
I never liked the news
always full of bad stuff
I hear him speaking
another journalist's on the phone
her voice sounds just as scared
The first plane hits
smoke and broken bits fill the air
the second follows suit
I don't realize
that I have screamed
Was someone else's voice
I don't realize
the tears on my face
burning their way down
I don't realise
my body's gone limp
the contents of my bag spill to the ground
*Author's note-a tribute to all those who were lost. We still cry.*
YOU ARE READING
Goblin Garden (My first collection of random poems) PUBLISHED!
PoetryThere is a shadow lurking on the edge of our perception, in the worst of our nightmares. It is us. It has always been us. Welcome to my first collection of poetry. Here you will find a mangled mess of dark, eccentric and sometimes hopeful poems...
