World Trade Center Poems

Browse Best World Trade Center Poems, we have a special collection of superb, one line and short World Trade Center Poems. Get Beautiful World Trade Center Poems.

• There was no languor, no drowsy trade winds,
  or stoned-out stupor of lapping waves,

  only news, the big board of crime,
  corporate raiding, selling short and long.

  It didn’t matter, I was no Ishmael.
  I just hovered there in the thick of the material –

  at the edge of a skyline of money,
  rising in a glass box.
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  It was comic to think Bachelard believed elevators
  had destroyed the heroism of stair-climbing.

  In the rush of soaring metallic, past the whiff of 4-martini lunches,
  up gearless traction in transparency,

  waves of cool air coming from the vents.
  At the 85th in a sky lobby we stalled out and the sun

  flooded the glass/the river/the cliffs.
  Jersey was just gouache and platinum coming apart –
  a glistening smudge

  and some nagging line from Roethke I’d been reading –
  circulating the air:
  “It will come again. Be still. Wait.”

• this was our world trade center,
  which made people surrender
  to the beauty of this engineering wonder,
  but,at times with a lurking danger
  that someday, someone might shatter
  this great twin tower center.

  came Tuesday of 2001, 11th September,
  a day full of horror & terror,
  ’cause, there was this perpetrator
  who gave the fateful order
  for the most dreaded disaster….
  people ran helter -skelter,
  stricken with anger, panic & fear,
  holding onto their lives dear
  praying & hoping for loved ones – near & dear

  i am just an onlooker,
  a helpless by-stander,
  filled with a grim wonder..
  is this a life in perfect order?
  is this world in perfect order?

  all said & done, i continue my prayer
  for all souls – victim and survivor,
  each, someone’s father, mother or brother,
  or looking to find their peer,
  i also pray for the ever growing number
  of firefighters, workers & volunteers
  to join hands & work together
  to emerge out more stronger , richer
  and strive to make the world safer & better.

• “Eventually the towers will seem human and local and quirky. Give them time.”
  “I’ll go hit my head against the wall. You tell me when to stop.”
  “You’ll wonder what made you mad.”
  “I already have the World Trade Center.”
  “And it’s already harmless and ageless. Forgotten-looking. And think how much worse.”
  “What?” she said.
  “If there was only one tower instead of two.”
  “You mean they interact. There is a play of light.”
  “Wouldn’t a single tower be much worse?”
  “No, because my big complaint is only partly size. The size is deadly. But having two of them is like a comment, it’s like a dialogue, only I don’t know what they’re saying.”
  “They’re saying, ‘Have a nice day.’ ”
  “Someday, go walk those streets,” she said. “Sick and dying people with nowhere to live and there are bigger and bigger towers all the time, fantastic buildings with miles of rentable space. All the space is inside. Am I exaggerating?”

• I never liked the World Trade Center.
  When it went up I talked it down
  As did many other New Yorkers.
  The twin towers were ugly monoliths
  That lacked the details the ornament the character
  Of the Empire State Building and especially
  The Chrysler Building, everyone’s favorite,
  With its scalloped top, so noble.
  The World Trade Center was an example of what was wrong
  With American architecture,
  And it stayed that way for twenty-five years
  Until that Friday afternoon in February
  When the bomb went off and the buildings became
  A great symbol of America, like the Statue
  Of Liberty at the end of Hitchcock’s
  Saboteur
  .
  My whole attitude toward the World Trade Center
  Changed overnight. I began to like the way
  It comes into view as you reach Sixth Avenue
  From any side street, the way the tops
  Of the towers dissolve into the white skies
  In the east when you cross the Hudson
  Into the city across the Washington Bridge.

• They jumped from the burning floors-
  one, two, a few more,
  higher, lower.

  The photograph halted them in life,
  and now keeps them
  above the earth toward the earth.

  Each is still complete,
  with a particular face
  and blood well hidden.

  There’s enough time
  for hair to come loose,
  for keys and coins
  to fall from pockets.

  They’re still within the air’s reach,
  within the compass of places
  that have just now opened.

  I can do only two things for them-
  describe this flight
  and not add a last line.

  They jumped from the burning floors-
  one, two, a few more,
  higher, lower.

  The photograph halted them in life,
  and now keeps them
  above the earth toward the earth.

  Each is still complete,
  with a particular face
  and blood well hidden.

  There’s enough time
  for hair to come loose,
  for keys and coins
  to fall from pockets.

  They’re still within the air’s reach,
  within the compass of places
  that have just now opened.

  I can do only two things for them-
  describe this flight
  and not add a last line.

• I never liked the World Trade Center.
  When it went up I talked it down
  As did many other New Yorkers.
  The twin towers were ugly monoliths
  That lacked the details the ornament the character
  Of the Empire State Building and especially
  The Chrysler Building, everyone’s favorite,
  With its scalloped top, so noble.
  The World Trade Center was an example of what was wrong
  With American architecture,
  And it stayed that way for twenty-five years
  Until that Friday afternoon in February
  When the bomb went off and the buildings became
  A great symbol of America, like the Statue
  Of Liberty at the end of Hitchcock’s Saboteur.
  My whole attitude toward the World Trade Center
  Changed overnight. I began to like the way
  It comes into view as you reach Sixth Avenue
  From any side street, the way the tops
  Of the towers dissolve into white skies
  In the east when you cross the Hudson
  Into the city across the George Washington Bridge.

• W hen tragedy struck on 9/11/01
  O ur world changed forever but we will
  R emember all the
  L oved ones who died on that
  D evastating day when

  T wo thousand, nine hundred eighty-five souls fell in the
  R ubble of destruction.
  A bout 50,000 people worked at the World Trade Center; its
  D ust and smoke and panic and loss
  E ffected the lives of people all over the planet. Their

  C ourage in the face of such an act
  E clipsed the hatred that flew into the
  N orth tower which was 1,368 feet high.
  T hen the south tower at 1,362 feet fell and no one could
  E xplain such a horror that could
  R e-shape the lives of an entire world in one event.

• The lit candle is flickering
  as I startlingly watch it.
  I scribbled few words
  in memory of those who lost their lives
  at Twin Towers when both collapsed.
  It brings me back memories
  when I went up the 101st floor
  to observe the magnificent view
  of Manhattan and the island.
  It’s like I was in heaven
  at that very moment.
  I did not want to believe
  that the Twin Towers are gone.
  I wanted to believe, it’s just a dream
  and that when I wake up it’s there
  standing majestically.
  I wanted to continue
  to believe that World Trade Center
  will be back soon by rebuilding again.
  But it will never be the same.

• The lit candle is flickering
  as I startlingly watch it.
  I scribbled few words
  in memory of those who lost their lives
  at Twin Towers when both collapsed.
  It brings me back memories
  when I went up the 101st floor
  to observe the magnificent view
  of Manhattan and the island.
  It’s like I was in heaven
  at that very moment.
  I did not want to believe
  that the Twin Towers are gone.
  I wanted to believe, it’s just a dream
  and that when I wake up it’s there
  standing majestically.
  I wanted to continue
  to believe that World Trade Center
  will be back soon by rebuilding again.
  But it will never be the same.

• I am an old woman in a black dress

  Kneeling in the ruins, clutching my shoulders,

  teeth clenched and lips drawn back in a snarl,

  rocking back and forth in grief and rage.

  I need to tear out my enemy’s throat

  for the taste of his lifeblood

  is better than strawberries.

  I am kneeling in the ruins of Byzantium.

  I am kneeling in the ruins of New York.

  I am saying the names of my dead children

  over and over, as if they were silver bullets

  to shoot at God’s smile,

  but I want to kill my enemy’s children

  more than I want my own children back.

  My face is twisted and strong.

  People in uniforms want me to stand up

  and get out of their way.

  I ignore them.

  The sky’s a pillar of smoke above me.

  There’s a pillar of fire raging inside me.

  I clench my shaking old hands into fists.

  I need to squeeze my enemy’s throat

  more than I need to hold my lover in the sweet and warm.

  His body’s in front of me, squashed to a bloody pulp

  with fallen metal.

  Somebody takes our picture.

  I am kneeling in the ruins of Jerusalem.

  I am kneeling in the ruins of Ireland.

  I am kneeling in the ruins of New York.

  I am kneeling in the ruins of Stonehenge

  that was a city once.

  This was a world once

  and I was human once but I’ve forgotten it.

  I walk on bloody feet thru war.

  Dying soldiers kneel to me

  and I smile.