Probably, everyone that writes poetry wrote a poem after 9/11.
I did this as a Roundel (kind of) and in American English. 

Livid

This was the color of my sky
Gray as a ghostly spirit
Left in the rubble there to die
Yet not in anguish to submit

In rain of anger as remit
To steel and concrete built on high
And gray the cloud that covered it
This was the color of my sky

Where smoke filled rubble-burning lie
For fallen twins left desolate
And through my tears to hear a sigh
Gray as a ghostly spirit

Torments my honor to commit
As anger wells in my eye
On grounds laid fallow from the hit
Left in the rubble there to die

Before my kinsmen left alive
I'll search for the insurgent
Avenging evil brought to ply
Yet not in anguish to submit

How red and hot the star that's lit
How raged torn a summer sky
How white my face for anger's bit
A silent grayish angry cry
This was the color

Copyright ©2001

FraQ, I have missed you.

When I was in high school, our English teacher performed a pretty mean experiment on us. He gave us a bunch of poems with the names of the authors excised, and asked us to read and evaluate them. During discussion, the class reached a broad consensus that a certain poem (can't remember the title) was the best of the bunch. The teacher then revealed that it was by Edgar Guest, who is generally remembered as a pretty terrible poet, all things considered (Dorothy Parker once wrote, "I'd rather flunk my Wasserman test / Than read the poetry of Edgar Guest." The Wasserman test is a test for syphilis, BTW). We all felt pretty stupid about ourselves afterwards. Here's "Life" from his 1916 collection A Heap O' Livin'.

Life is a gift to be used every day,
Not to be smothered and hidden away;
It isn't a thing to be stored in the chest
Where you gather your keepsakes and treasure your best;
It isn't a joy to be sipped now and then
And promptly put back in a dark place again.

Life is a gift that the humblest may boast of
And one that the humblest may well make the most of.
Get out and live it each hour of the day,
Wear it and use it as much as you may;
Don't keep it in niches and corners and grooves,
You'll find that in service its beauty improves.

vocaroo.com/i/s0o43nUaavBP

Thank you, Breakdown! 

I just realized that a few pages back, I made the mistake of saying that there hadn't been any original work in the thread, when in fact you had already submitted yours. I had even given it a like, making my mistake all the more embarrassing. I apologize, and I edited the silly post in question accordingly. 

Another poem by me which is inspired by, well, you'll see lol.

In the darkest reaches of space, lay a Mad
Titan who sought domination. For what he wrought
about was eternal damnation. As his might
grew and his enemies took fear, there are those who
we hold most dear. A noble captain, a witty inventor, and
a thunderous god are near. Only when combining their might
with friends whose hearts and minds they share, can they
be set free of doubt and despair. For as the mad titan grew, so did
our heroes anew, and thus the war for infinity became unto view.

Okay, I'll give it a try.

Always been fascinated by Siren Mythology.

I fully admit. If I were in the Myths, it's probably how I would go out. Sinking beneath the waves with a stupid smile on my face.

#SeriousFearOfDrowningIsSerious!

I find that recording for anything is difficult. I did a lot of it for DAO and it took for ever because you can never get satisfied with the way it came out. 

Poetry is hard! There is no way I could do a poem justice.

I might do more passages from my fav books though, that first one was fun to record! Not posting them though!