This says everything I would like to say but can't quite put into words as wonderful as this.

"Five years on
what false alarm can be trusted again?
What case or bag can be left unclaimed?
What flight can be sure to steer its course?
What building can claim to own its form?
What column can vow to stand up straight?
What floor can agree to bear its weight?
What tower can vouch to retain its height?
What peace can be said to be water-tight?
What truth can be said to be bullet-proof?
Can anything swear to be built to last?
Can anything pledge to be hard and fast?
What system can promise to stay in place?
What structure can promise to hold its shape?
What future can promise to keep the faith?

Everything changed. Nothing is safe."

- An extract from 'Out of the Blue' by Simon Armitage, written to commemorate the September 11th attacks five years on.

And in other news...

I'm going to be published.
I think I'm probably still in shock, even though I've been typing it all day.
I wrote a poem miles ago, and then I got an email about this Poetry Rivals competition, and thought; 'what the hell, there's no harm in entering'. So I sent it off and promptly forgot about it.
This morning, however, I went down to microwave my tea and found quite a lot of post on the doormat, so I made sure there wasn't anything for me. Well, strictly speaking, there wasn't, but there was a letter adressed to "The Parents Of..." me. Now, naturelle mon, I freaked out a bit, thinking it might be something from my new school saying I couldn't go (which would, in part, be a blessed releif), but when my mum opened it, it was from Poetry Rivals saying there going to publish me.
I'm really excited. I mean, they haven't picked the top 50 to go to the Grand Final, and I'm almost certain that I won't get into that, because I'm only 15 and still a bit crap, but... I don't care.
I'm going to be published. I'm so happy for me.

This feels better than Christmas in New York. >>