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Poetry Magnum Opus



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Something I wrote 10 years ago in the moment. I wanted to Archive it here and thought it might be appropriate to revisit in light of recent events.


A dirty blanket
of grey grit smothers
mangled, broken bodies
of the unsuspecting
and coats crippled humanity
stumbling from the rubble.

This dust buries
our innocence and exposes
deceit and violence.
It hampers rescue
and dulls
the senses of a nation.
Yet we wade through
to take care of our own.

We will remove
the filth and debris
from the streets of New York
and from the dark
corners of the world,
wherever cowardice is harbored
and treachery is honored.
And when the dust has settled
we will shake it
from our souls and move on.
---------------- --- Judi Van Gorder 9/12/01email4.jpg

Another poem about 9-11-01 Lambs

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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The 'dust' imagery gave focus to the message. A heartfelt poem, but the belief that life could be cleansed was expressed with a hardened conviction. The final two lines in particular reinforced that positive and resilient voice.



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Thanks Badge and Tony, I am sure there are millions of poem written about that day. I can still remember the image on TV of people covered in soot and dust scuffling away from the scene. The dust was so thick that they all looked alike, everything was covered with it. Even on the West Coast we felt the blow and although I didn't get up and dance when I heard the news bin Laden was dead, I remember thinking "Finally we got him!" and felt closure.



~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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2nd last line there's a typo -- good job though. :)


"Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends.

There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh."


"I don't believe you."


"Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume.

To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart."

"There's a starving beast inside my chest
playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tusks in my flesh
crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on the bedside table
its blade reflects my determined face
to plant it in my chest
and carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins

Hollow me out, I want to feel empty"
-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreaker


"Sky turns to a deeper grey

the sun fades by the moon

hell's come from the distant hills

tortures dreams of the doomed

and they pray, yet they prey

and they pray, still they prey"
-- "Still They Prey" by Cough


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