Photo of the poet's wife on the attacked path.On the Recent Terrorist Attack in New York City by Joe Tessitore The Society November 1, 2017 News of Note, Poetry, Terrorism 3 Comments The Morning after the Parade On the terrorist attack on October 31, 2017 Most cowardly violence No moment of silence Let’s pretend that all is well All that once mattered Now fallen and shattered Here in the Great Living Hell The bicycle path The parade of wrath Chilling the story they tell Joe Tessitore is a retired New York City resident and poet. Related Post ‘Letting Go’ by Michael Glassman The birch, the elm, the aging spruce Cannot restrain the restless roots Of saplings drawn to the silent sound Of brother’s heading skywar... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail 3 Responses Leo Yankevich November 2, 2017 This is very telling, Mr Tessitore, and, of course, well done. Reply James A. Tweedie November 3, 2017 A moment of numbness, perhaps. The silence a side-effect from being at a loss for words. Thank you for finding at least a few words to touch our common sorrow. Reply Bruce Dale Wise November 7, 2017 Mr. Tessitore’s poem is immediate and heartfelt. Several items interest in the structure of the poem: 1) the rhyme scheme, aabccbddb; 2) the nominative quality, suggesting stasis; 3) the terse quality of the verse; and 4) and the tone, interwoven with pretense and the emphatic, capitalized Great Living Hell. Here is another, more prosaic, recently published rendition of the same event. An Act of Terror, October 31, 2017 by Brice Wade Luse “The bicycle path/ The parade of wrath…” —Joe Tessitore Another Muslim shouting ‘Allahu Akbar’ again; but there’s no God or Greatness when one hates one’s fellow men. The grim Uzbeki immigrant, within a rental truck, plowed through a bike path, killing eight, and then a school bus struck. He was a fam’ly man who had some children of his own; a Paterson, New Jersey mosque, his new religious home. This follower of the Quran, a coward and a fiend, has killed five Argentinians, who had been childhood friends, a Belgian mother of two sons, a software engineer, and from the World Trade Center, a program manager. Eleven more were injured, counting children on the bus; no happy ever after for those ripped untimely thus. Brice Wade Luse is a poet of New York City. I also liked the picture: On a Picture of the Wife of Joe Tessitore by Bruce Dale Wise She sits upon the gray-stone, and looks upon her cell phone, pink flowers cased in green leaves. Across the lined, gray, bike lane, the red and purple in play accent the beautiful scene, so distant from this year’s curse, October Thirty-First’s fears before All Hallows’ Evening. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.