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Forwarded with NonStopNY's permission after she sent it to me back-channel.

Let me just add a word of appreciation for all the poems posted today, and
encourage those who haven't posted anything (yet) to contribute a poem
before the midnight deadline. A listee who kindly invited me to his party
tonight reminded me that it's the Winter Solstice, so how about turning this
little ceasefire into a celebration before we're done? Thanks--Candice



 Inspired by John McCrae's 1915 poem "In Flanders Fields,"
 I adapted his lines to commemorate Sep?t. 11 in NYC:


   Manhattan  September 11, 2001

   Near shattered steel, the searchers go
   Where stood twin towers, proudly so,
   That stretched from downtown to the sky
   Where larks, still bravely singing, fly
   Scarce heard amid the din below.

                             We are the Dead. Short days ago
                             We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
                             Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
                             'Neath shattered steel.

                             Take up our quarrel with the foe:
                             To you from once strong hands we throw
                             The torch.  It's yours to hold it high.
                             If you break faith with us who die
                             We shall not sleep, though buildings rise
                             From shattered steel.
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www.nonstopny.com

I live a half-mile from the World Trade Center, and witnessed the first
plane racing over my roof at 8:40 AM, the crash, the fire, and the twin
towers' collapse.  My adaption of "Flanders Fields" is dedicated to the
victims and those who loved them.


           = =  here is McCrae's original 15-line poem from 1915 = =

             John McCrae's 1915 poem "In Flanders Fields"

             In Flanders fields the poppies blow
             Between the crosses, row on row,
             That mark our place; and in the sky
             The larks, still bravely singing, fly
             Scarce heard amid the guns below.

                             We are the Dead. Short days ago
                             We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
                             Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
                             In Flanders Fields.

                             Take up our quarrel with the foe:
                             To you from failing hands we throw
                             The torch; be yours to hold it high.
                             If ye break faith with us who die
                             We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
                             In Flanders Fields.
                                                          -- John McCrae

       John McCrae's 1915 poem "In Flanders Fields"
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