The newspaper blew in a twisting fashion
Stopping only to hug the wall
The words jumped out
Assassinated
The night already black
Such an important man
People wept openly
They arrested a man
Though, he died too
Time went on
Mystery built up through the years
They all had their own theories
Films and documentaries proved one thing
Death was cold in the afternoon
People always say in conversations
What were you doing that day
The newspaper blew in a twisting fashion
Stopping only to hug the wall
The night we said goodbye forever
The words jumped out
Assassinated
Just how I felt.
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Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 31st, 2026 03:54
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Cheeky Missy, Tristan Robert Lange, Friendship
Offline)
Comments4
The clues lead to one famous occasion and a magic bullet. I was in the sixth grade when the principal came to the room and announced it. Nicely written this poem does so well with the imagery that is cold and stark as was the incident yet it flies in one's face and sticks in one's mind as a paper to a wall. A lovely selection of words and pacing my friend a fave
The myth still goes on.
Indeed
This really hit me, Paul. You capture both the collective shock of a nation and the private grief that can become inseparable from it. Haunting and deeply affecting, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Certainly been built up through the years.
Nicely written. You capture the emotional weight of loss and the way it reverberates through time, affecting both individual experiences and collective memory.
Was a great loss this one.
Got to be JFK
Loved the read
It sure is.
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