When I was small I watched the twin towers

As we drove to New York each passing year.

They bloomed from the water to always appear

Steady as time—yet no longer ours.

From concrete made temporal as flowers

With the crash of a plane, the stall of a gear,

The turn of a channel where they disappear

To leave me wondering where they now were.



All of the seconds, minutes and hours

Abandoned their posts from all of our clocks

As we kept watching two falling towers

That fell on the city like children’s blocks.

From those two tall tops down through their cellars,

Gone, all those stories and story-tellers.

© David Caruso

Getting Here From There
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David plays guitar and writes haiku. He lives in New Jersey. He can't see Russia from his front porch but most nights he can see the moon. He invites you to browse on over to DavidHaiku.com.

Some responses to this week's riots in England:

fire in London
can’t put it out
with Potomac water

© David Caruso

Trouble erupts in English cities
David began writing haiku and tanka after taking a course in Buddhist poetry of Japan under the late Professor William LaFleur. He invites you to browse on over to DavidHaiku.com

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And here's a couple we 'looted' from amongst our followers:



Chris Lawrence lives with his muse in West Kirby and writes, having been published in many journals internationally and can be found on twitter @clawfish.

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And, for a different flavour, Anna's poem was already on her blog, and longer than our maximum so we couldn't accept it, but here's an excerpt:
How easy
They succumb to stereotype,
The looters, the arsonists,
The bigot's fodder;
The bigots dream gifted,
Gifted by the very underclass
They wish to further
Marginalise.
Read the whole poem here: What is this?

~

And this from Twitterer Arron Shilling

"Time is short now
the hoods are glowing white
dark moods blind the rats
and glass coppers shield the streets."


~


Related posts
See also: Harvest Time and Dudley Road by Jane James and The morning after by Clare Kirwan