Douglas Alan Stromback

Douglas Alan Stromback Poems

The Best Poem Of Douglas Alan Stromback

9/11 Poem Called 'Rain Of Plane'

up in the sky,
the planes went
ever so high,
they were sent,
the passengers on board,
were heading west, the plane was floored,
i'm sure every one was drinking coffee,
i'm sure some were done, and shaking their knee, oh that's me,
some were sleeping,
some were reading,
soon we would all be weeping,
with anger feeding,
our rage,
wishing we could go back and turn the page,
and put it on the right track but we can't because of hate in a few,
no matter how much we rant, and pray at the pew,
because they hijacked it with knives,
and forever changed our lives,
taking over the cockpit,
with throats slit,
sending all to the back,
without them knowing their new track,
the passengers were riding a crazy horse with no reigns,
not knowing the course, that would be our permanent stains,
in the livings head, forever etched,
to be always read, forever stretched,
through time by pictures
and rhyme, and now one of histories new fixtures.
the plane through the tower,
passengers screaming,
ooh what power, as the flames streaming
through to the sky,
and everyone yelling why,
then a few minutes later, the standing brother,
of the burning other,
is it hit by another, plane
this is insane,
now both were burning,
the whole worlds head is turning,
bodies jumping to avoid the flame,
peoples heart slumping cause will never be the same.
cut to the pentagon,
it too was smashed upon,
forever flashed in our brain,
the day the rain, was plane,
one more was to go,
but it was to late to the show, as we all know,
it flew over our head,
carrying the soon dead,
but they had heard,
of the absurd,
the rain of plane,
that is delivering pain, oh how insane,
so they fought back,
the best they could,
they changed the terrorists track,
and they hit the field of trees and wood,
saving a few,
maybe you,
and now they are Americas hero,
because of this, added to the death was zero,
at least for now, then came the tumbling down,
oh how did we frown,
trapped inside were the rescuers,
with the burning cement surfers,
all in a tangled burning mess, people ask about our terrorist accusers,
of this turf not hers,
and we guess, of the plan
to destroy man,
and how hate, led to this fate,
on this september date,
always to be remembered as the rain of plane.

copyright 2001
Douglas Alan Stromback
WordsWin.com

Douglas Alan Stromback Comments