This is it, kids: The last edition of “Bad 9-11 Poetry.” I thought there would be another one, but I realized the other two poems I have were written by fourth-graders, and I’m not going to mock the post-9/11 literary efforts of schoolchildren. Of grown adults who should have known better, yes. Of kids, no.

So here are the final two. (I’m sure there was more bad poetry that came out of 9/11, but this is all that fell into my hands.) As before (check the previous entries in this category for background), these were submitted to a Utah newspaper in the days following Sept. 11, 2001, in the apparent hopes that they would be published, despite the fact that the paper had never published poetry before.

Liberty Will Prevail
by Michele H. Mirabile

[Handwritten note accompanying poem] Please consider this poem for publication, I think it effectively portrays what we as Americans are feeling right now. Thank you.

A mighty nation trembles,
besot with pain and grief;
Old Glory flies at half-mast –
a mighty nation weeps

Evil gloats as Freedom cries,
Godless men rejoice;
death and sorrow resonate,
revenge and war decry.

Peace is interrupted
by hate and jealousy;
terror visits Freedom’s shore,
her heart by pain, besieged.

We’ve defended many nations
that we might have liberty;
now cowards strive to wound us –
justice is our decree.

Blood has drenched our soil,
reaffirming our resolve;
we will never lose our spirit,
we will always rise above.

We are a nation undivided,
a land of liberty;
we will never lose our courage,
and God will always be.

Terror cannot conquer,
and hate will never reign;
we will rebuild our nation,
our flag will soar again.

America is stalwart,
and freedom will live on;
we’ll pledge allegiance to her,
remembering when she cried.

[Does that last stanza freak anybody else out? The whole poem has been rhyming (sort of), and then all of a sudden there's no rhyme. Not even a bad attempt at one, like with "resolve/above."]

* * * * *

Let Us Unite
by Vanessa Anne Wright

[Handwritten note accompanying poem] Note: I’m very sorry for the World trade center and for it’s people. I was at work when I heard the news. I feel that there is alot more to come. I would enjoy giving a poam to those who would want to be comforted.

Being united as one
with candle after candle.
come follow the light and let
us not fear to fight.
We heard on that fearful day
of our dear loved ones on that
Sorrowful flight.
Know it’s the time to stand as
a united nation to band from
this evil day.

Two more poems written by Utahns in the days after 9/11, submitted (unsolicited) to the newspaper I was working for at the time. (For more background, read the earlier entries in this category.)

By the way, we only have two more editions of this feature before the well runs dry. So those who don’t like it only have to be forced at gunpoint to read it twice more after this.

Ballad of 9/11/01
by Andrea Dietrich

[Note: This poem was apparently meant to be a song, as the word "ballad" in the title suggests. Conveniently, I note that it can be sung to the tune of the "Gilligan's Island" theme song. Sing away!]

A bright blue Indian summer morn.
An unexpected jolt.
Hundreds instantly massacred
On day of thunderbolt.

Workers in the tower’s twin
Who gaped in disbelief,
Minutes later too were hit
That day of horror and grief.

By radio and TV show
The news was quickly spread.
The world was left incredulous.
A day for feeling dread.

And still the killing wasn’t done.
Before our nations’ eyes
The Pentagon was next attacked
That day of sad surprise.

Back to the scene in Manhattan,
Some folks were stuck in rooms
of towers with tops obscured by smoke.
That day of shadows and gloom.

And some, choosing not to face the fire,
Jumped to their deaths in fright.
People screamed or averted their eyes.
A day of hideous sights.

But no, the worst wasn’t finished yet.
South Tower did collapse
As people fled down crowded steps.
Oh, day to flabbergast!

Of those on the outskirts looking on,
Many met with the same tragic fate.
Police and firemen who rushed in.
Oh, day to commiserate.

And rendering hope was Father “Mike”,
Unvanquished by helplessness,
Who died will giving a brother last rites.
Oh, day of selflessness.

In the midst of rubble and ash and flame
And calls to evacuate,
The northern tower came crumbling down
On day of hasty escape.

As people spilled out onto the streets,
Their lungs filled with debris,
They sobbed for loves most likely lost.
A day of melancholy.

Meanwhile were martyrs in nearby skies.
We heard with sympathy
How Flight 93 had crashed on ground
On day of infamy.

But striking in difference from other events,
Though all were senselessness,
Strong acts of heroics were doubtless employed
That day of defenselessness.

The terror receded. Our president spoke.
We listened to what he would say.
From home and abroad he rallied support
On a day to ponder and pray.

A might giant has been awoke.
And its hand is beckoning.
Faceless cowards cannot hide long
On this daybreak of reckoning.

* * * * *

Love Will Always Prevail
author unknown

[This one's clearly meant to be a song, too, with a chorus and even a bridge. I don't know what tune it can be sung to, though. Any suggestions?]

You show your hatred
You give us pain
But we always find a way to love again
You cause destruction
You tear apart
But you’re never gonna stop our beating heart

Cause America
Is built on Love
And the heart of this land will never fail
When all is said and done
We will still be #1
Because Love will always prevail

We’ve been scarred
By you before
And I’m sure America will see some more.
But your hatred
Can not compare
With the love your gonna see this nation share

‘Cause America
Is built on Love
And the heart of this land will never fail
When all is said and done
We will still be #1
Because Love will always prevail

Try to tear us apart and watch us pull together
America’s heart will keep beating forever

Cause America
Is built on Love
And the heart of this land will never fail
When all is said and done
We will still be #1
Because Love will always prevail

A couple more poems written by Utahns in the days after 9/11, submitted to the newspaper I was working for at the time. (For more background, read the previous entries in this category.)

Freedom Flight 93
by Crystal Ann Pett

Just like a normal day,
I felt the sun arise me with it’s rays.

And from my heart, I felt such joy to be
-a father of 3-

With little time I rushed to catch my flight,
Oh! how could I have known, natures tender call would take me from this life!
…My pregnant wife
Oh! to hold her just once more and feel her love!

Dear God above…

My life can save so many from this fate,
If it’s not too late,
Oh, please hear me now
Before I take this fatal call;

Send strength to those called after me to fight
FOR FREEDOM’S LIGHT

(CHORUS)

A light that’s shined for us this long
It bares the song
Of those who died to keep this country strong

For generations, their sacrifice has been this countries joy.
And now they call out from the dust to re-employ…
It’s time again to fight
FOR FREEDOM’S LIGHT

(end of chorus)

May our deaths bring out the soldier part
Inside every true American heart
That as this Plane steers down to it’s tragic final blow,
May American resolve with heavens wings aglow
Find justice still in this different war
And rekindle Freedoms flame, each time we see our dear flag soar.
That bravery will abound and courage will take root
And through Liberty’s aim our soldiers will shoot
At the heart of terror till it bleeds it’s last drop
Proving God is on FREEDOM’S side and the American heartbeat can NEVER stop.

Let terror be warned by the down of this flight,
you CANNOT dim our FREEDOM’S LIGHT!

(CHORUS)

For our children, God, please send them peace
As we fight for freedoms heavenly goal
That regardless of race, religion or sex,
Each soul can chose which direction they go

Be with our future generations
To calm their fears and answer their questions
Give them faith to believe
Good will triumph over evil
And courage to keep their dreams alive,
As we fight to pay for Freedom’s bill
Help keep laughter in their song
And heavens promise in their sight
Let this flight go down in victory
To strengthen FREEDOM’S LIGHT

[The designation of "CHORUS" leads me to believe these are song lyrics and not a poem, but the author did not submit music to accompany them, and it would be a strange song indeed that used the verb "re-employ" in its chorus. I would propose singing the lyrics to an already-written, familiar tune, but the fact that each line is a different number of syllables and the stanzas are randomly composed of anywhere from one to 10 lines makes me suspect no such tune exists.]

* * * * *

Our Nation Weeps
by Brandon Heaton

[This note accompanied the poem.] Written on September 11, 2001, the day the World Trade Twin Towers in New York City were attacked by two hijacked airliners and destroyed. This was an act of Terrorism where many thousands of people were killed or injured.

It is a quiet day,
For there is nothing to say.
Our country is in silence
Because of such violence.

So many people
Have lost their lives,
Such as Grandparents, children,
Husbands and wives.

I wonder so deeply
Way down in my heart
Why would those people
Tear families apart?

Why did it happen?
Nobody knows.
Who in this world
Would stoop so low?

We have been attacked
But it did not break our backs.
We will find who did this
And bring them to justice.

Now is the time
To come together.
We must remember
This day forever.

[I appreciate the author's explanatory note at the beginning. Often, we would receive poems about 9/11, read them, and then go, "What the heck was 9/11?!? Was it some kind of big important day or something??"

Also, note the clever rhyming of "did this" and "justice." It's hard to get away with that, but I think he pulled it off.]

Some more Bad 9-11 Poetry for you to enjoy. Click the “Bad 9-11 Poetry” category on the right side of the page for past entries. The basic background is that average citizens wrote poems and submitted them to the Utah newspaper I worked for after Sept. 11, 2001, evidently hoping we would publish them. We did not. I am publishing them here, now. This is probably not what they wanted.

Our American Pride
by Lori Adams

Today is such a tragic day
For now we all will stop and pray
For those who lost their lives without warning
We now must face another morning
With blood on our faces and hearts full of sorrow
We know the sun will rise tomorrow
To you evil souls be not mistaken
Because the “sleeping giant” has been reawakened
We will stand and fight for those who died
You cannot kill our American Pride.

[Why is there blood on our faces?!!??!]

* * * * *

Open Letter To: Our Phantom Foe
by Shane Greer

Dastardly faceless phantom,
Cravenly skulking foe;
Slithering as the viper,
Your venomous act to bestow.
Infamy, your crowning glory,
Black as the pit whence you’ve sprung,
Spawned by the father of darkness
Whose praises your foul soul has sung.
Cloaked in his veil you have ventured,
Unbidden and secreted here,
To prey upon the innocent;
Exacting your ransom most dear.
By no noble cause may you stand forth,
For nobleness has no place in you,
To lay claim of justification,
There is no excusing the evil you do.
Pure hatred alone must inspire it,
Replete with blood-thirsty desire.
These are that essence, rather,
Of the spark which ignited your fire.

You’ve waylayed this maiden in chambers,
Invaded her privacy there,
With basest intent to maul and maim,
Disfigure her countenance fair.
Indeed, she reels bloodied and wounded,
Suff’ring your onslaught and pained;
Shocked and dismayed and shaken,
Yet, no greater advantage you’ve gained.
For beneath her visage so comely
Lays substance unapparent to you,
The heart of a lion, ferocious,
Draped in a lambskin to view.
She may appear docile and helpless,
Exposed to your ravening jaws,
But she lacks only just motivation
To unsheath her razor-sharp claws.
You’ve supplied this ad infinitum,
Her wrath be prepared to receive
When she’ll soon sniff you out of hiding
Her suff’ring and grief to relieve.
For the moment you lurk, form and faceless;
Savoring the evil you’ve done.
Be assured you’ll not go unrewarded,
No vic’try at all have you won.
Your days on their earth, now, are numbered,
God’s scales have been readied and stored
To weigh you in judgment, on passing,
When you come cow’ring before the Lord.

[If my reading of the poem's metaphors is correct, in the second stanza America is compared to a woman who has been raped by evil-doers but who will now reap bloody vengeance on them. I'm pretty sure I have seen horror movies based on exactly that plot.]

While combing through the digital catacombs of my computer files, I found something I’d forgotten about: BAD 9/11 POETRY.

You see, after the 9/11 attacks five years ago, people who had theretofore never written poetry decided now was the time to start, as a means of expressing their grief, anger and sorrow. But instead of putting those poems in their diaries or sharing them with friends or lighting them on fire, they instead mailed them to the newspaper where I worked, apparently believing that in times of national crisis the newspaper would become a literary journal and starting publishing poetry on the Letters to the Editor page.

Well, we didn’t publish poetry, and the editor of the opinion page instead handed all the submissions over to me. He figured I’d know what to do with them.

Here are a couple, reproduced exactly as they were received. Note, of course, that it is not the sentiments that are fodder for mockery, but rather the inept and sentimental way they are expressed.

(For more, click on the “Bad 9-11 Poetry” category on the right-hand side of this page.)

Untitled
by Joshua Erickson

Somewhere there are wails of grief
Death’s handsome crop to reap
The aching cries of those alive
The dying who long to sleep

The frigid air though summertime
The icy pain a knife
The chilling loss of innocence
The colder loss of life

The weapon forged of ignorance
The victims very own
Metal birds with bowels of flame
Into the foe were flown

The giant toppled to the ground
A mortal wound perhaps
Someone hopes he will not stand
And aims for his collapse

Somewhere there are angered souls
Whose eyes are filled with tear
In their hands a sword is drawn
Defiant though in fear

In their hearts a patriots flame
Unquenched by acts of war
With retribution on their lips
The giant stands once more

Justice must be meted out
To satisfy the dead
The serpent’s venom bruised thy heel
But thou shalt crush his head

Somewhere there are wails of grief
And somewhere shouts of glee
Though devils taunt and hell gapes wide
Free men will be free.

* * * * *

Declared Tumble
by Bob Faux

Tumbling towers freeze our minds,
Landing on our soil.
Tears flow, coast to coast,
In them we toil.

On us war’s been declared,
Who’s our enemy?
Let us employ thoughtful thought,
Wav’ring who it be.

Some say good can come
From world hunt.
Let us, hand in hand,
Grasp united front.

* * * * *

Bob Faux used to write letters to the editor on a regular basis, most of them as incoherent as his poem. “Let us employ thoughtful thought/Wav’ring who it be”? What does that even MEAN? And how do you “grasp [a] united front”? What does the title, “Declared Tumble,” mean? WHAT IS WRONG WITH BOB FAUX?

More bad poetry inspired by 9-11. (See this entry for background.)

Untitled
by Sharee Thomas

America
Choice land,
A gift from God.
Freedom,
Fought for
and earned
By generations
of the past.
Wealth,
unparalleled,
bought by sacrifice
endurance
commitment.
Opportunity,
Rights,
Privilege…
Defended
by honest mentors.
America,
Beautiful,
in diversity;
Corruptors
will not stand…
Destroy not
This great land.
Let us take
each other’s hand,
We who love
our liberty!
Let our weapons be
faith,
undaunted courage,
honor, integrity.
Let us preserve for
our posterity…
the heritage
That fills our hearts
with love today.

More bad poetry inspired by 9-11. (See this entry for background.)

I Love My Country
by Lenore Allan Brinkerhoff

[Submitted in ALL CAPITAL LETTERS. I have modified it to make it readable. The author's odd choice in line breaks has been retained. And I sure do hope those terrorists get the clue!]

A terrible blow to our great U.S.A. –
9-11-01 we’ll all recall that horrible day.
8:48 a.m. The first devastation on one great tower –
The next plane hit the second tower all within an hour.
Intertwined in this was a big blow to our Pentagon –
These all involved our passenger planes
With many innocent people on.
Another plane was diverted away from the
White House we pray –
Although many lives were lost — those who jumped
The terrorist; will be heroes for the day.
In those waning moments did the victims have time to cry?
Did they put their hands in the Lord with prayer;
Before they prepared to die?
Many loved ones lived in our great state –
Were lost in this devastation no more to have a mate.
God bless those innocent people who were on the plane
And on the ground –
This great America will go on;
No greater place can be found.
We are generous, powerful, loving
And our people love serving others –
We have a big heart, we’re giving; this country
Is worth keeping, we’re all sister and brothers.
My heart aches, my soul does bleed –
For the many people still doing a great deed.
We know the only way this terrible problem can be solved –
Work together, track down those who did this dastardly deed,
Plead to and trust in our God.
We as Americans will go on because we know that
The good old U.S.A. is worth keeping and holding on to –
Those who sot to destroy us will see how
Precious our U.S.A. is and hopefully get the clue.
God bless America
We sure do love you
We stand united
We are not alone.

Immediately after 9-11 happened, The Daily Herald (where I worked at the time) was bombarded with poetry written by locals who apparently believed that, in times of national emergency, The Daily Herald became a literary journal. We had a long-standing policy of not publishing poetry (most papers do), so the opinions page editor just gave them to me. He figured I’d want to collect them, since I have a fondness for bad art. Periodically, I will post some of them here on the blog.

It is not the sentiments expressed in these poems that I find amusing, of course. It’s the poor way in which they are expressed. If you want to pour out your soul in poetry in your journal, that’s fine. But to send it to a newspaper, hoping it will be published, suggests that you actually think it has some artistic merit. Which none of these do, or at least not much.

This first one is actually one of the better ones. Enjoy.

Life Goes On
by L. Carvel Wilson

The flag still flies, school is in,
Planes will fly, we’ll begin again,
Cement, steel sealed in hallowed blood,
Shed by cowards ever present flood.
Hidden men with yellow hearts,
Have no idea what they start,
Today our nation quietly mourns,
Tomorrow like a Phoenix reborn.
We pause, remembrance bitter sweet,
Of time now past and innocence fleet,
Tears still fall and families bleed,
As the World sees freedom’s need.
Sadness wars with rage and grief,
As we turn to God for his relief,
United we stand as life goes on,
We’ll fight until, at last, we’ve won.