Boston

At a mile before the end,

Canyons roared creating wind.

Many souls crushed into pieces

And a child was a witness. 

Through his newborn eyes,

Visions that he'll soon despise

Ran and pierced his soul and mind

And he sat, afraid of what he'd find.

From afar and from up close,

Limbs and blood and clothes

Burned and ripped some more. 

He screamed and cried in horror, appalled from all the gore. 

Twenty minutes into the attack,

The canyon roars were back.

Earth again, had become hell 

And souls began to crawl.

A child was a witness,

and his life was crushed to pieces.

A soul with new born eyes

Now watches from above the skies. 

Reviews

[Mark]

Your imagery was sharp,and crisp. Keep writing. Nicely read.

[Joby Bottoms]

You are a complete natural. The words that you use in this poem conjure up all of the devastating images that I would imagine accurately portray the event. Well done. Keep writing.