Colin F. Jones


September 01

September comes; it is the fall,
When shadows creep across the wall,
When grey monuments in quiet parks,
Stand ghostly silent in the dark.
When wildlife seek the warmer climes,
And the summer merriment declines,
And all who have time to think,
From better thoughts begin to shrink,
Remembering those who lived and died,
And perished there, destroyed inside,
The Towers that fell from the New York sky,
To leave us shocked and asking why.
Though from the autumn winter comes,
Tis all devoured by summer suns.

September 02

An arrow flung from Satan’s bow,
A lethal shaft with evil glow,
Did trespass on an Angel’s wing,
To which it did with menace cling.
To strike the legs that held the sky
Above the city’s hue and cry:
And devastate all life below
With an evil horrid callous blow.
The crumpling legs spilled blood and bone,
With a desperate and bewildered moan,
Destroying people with its breath,
Of fire that caused them pointless death,
That all the shattered world around,
Were spellbound by the awful sound.

September 03

The maniac had showed his hand,
To spoil all that is fine and grand,
To demonstrate religious hate,
That men possessed can remonstrate.
Yet such acts just waste away,
As fast as the ashes of Hell decay,
For always from the tree that falls,
God there a sapling soon installs,
Which grows to blossom and to bloom,
That love grows from the evil gloom
That I a lonely poet in awe,
My faith in man I soon restore.
For such wonderment I can’t ignore,
Like those I fought with in the war

September 04

They missed the third tower standing there
That none of them could see,
For their tiny minds were not aware,
Of the tallest of the three.
The great tower of sweet loyalty
the tower of the free,
The fine tower dressed up in Liberty,
That still stands for all to see.
It is not made from brick and glass,
This tower that stands above,
New York Cities paves and grass,
But is built from bricks of love.
And while the ravens fly on past,
There nests the tranquil Dove.

September 05

The towering goal posts, they have gone,
Of dividing lines the field has none,
The bright lights of new York City,
Have calmly merged to shine as one.
Was there a moment when they doubted
When the vile attack on them was mounted?
They cried and wept with grief and pity,
But the sun shines still on New York City.
Tis here goodwill is common place,
Tis etched in the profile of every face,
And though hearts are heavy and the pain,
Will forever in their souls remain,
They thank the Lord for New York City,
Where the men are bold and the girls are pretty.

September 06

Oh God do cleanse our foes of sin,
And free who let the Devil in,
That they with us can all rejoice,
With one great loving loyal voice:
For from cold ashes comes new life
As we discover hope from strife,
And link our arms and hearts and souls
Like smoke-rings from the smouldering coals.
America! Still great, is great,
Proud of achievement and estate,
Whose people more united yet,
Will overcome pain and regret,
And find their peace in God above,
Who offers nothing less than love.