This is a slam poem I wrote for my English class about World War II. It’s pretty deep, so I suggest you get your tissues ready.
I sit alone on my wobbly three-legged stool
As I face the grey mush of a dinner which balances on what’s left of my dining table
I let myself ponder, setting my mind free
Is this all there is?
Is this all that’s left?
Are we nothing more than the dirty wallpaper peeling off of the crumbling wall?
Am I just another girl waiting to be saved from the war-torn city she used to call home?
Maybe so
But I don’t let it get to me
I don’t let it get to me that I live in a house one kick away from tumbling down
I don’t let it get to me that the ones around me are engulfed in flames while their owners lay dead in the street
I don’t let it get to me that just a couple feet away, under a pile of cement bricks lay my little sister, still amidst playing with her dolls
I don’t let it get to me that I’m the only one left
I don’t let it get to me
Still, I must go on
My bloody fragile hands rest on the burnt wood of the table in front of me
I am battered and bruised but I am unbroken
This town is charred black and deserted but it is unbroken
This country, our nation is falling apart and on fire but yet it stands, unbroken
So knock down my doors
Shatter my windows
But you cannot break me
Not now, not ever
As long as eyes can see and ears can hear
I will stand tall and live
For one more breathing person means one step closer to winning this war
I stare at the gaping hole in my ceiling and begin to count
One
Two
Three planes fly over me, oblivious to my existence
I’m here, I’m here, this town is dead but I am alive, save me
I will not be a butterfly among a field of flowers but a wild horse galloping across a valley
Noticeable
Standing out
Come back for me
One more plane flies by, lower than the others
The bomb bay doors open and drop a cylinder
It is graceful like a ballet dancer but is stronger than a thousand men
I hear a distant boom as I watch the chandelier shake
That’s the fourth air raid this week
Hitting all the surrounding cities like this is all some sort of arcade game
I wonder if the next one will fall on me
Perhaps then I can join my family and the hundreds of thousands of soldiers who have died for me
I do admit
I’m scared
Terrified, even
Of what will happen to me if I’m not found
I refuse to be another casualty lost beneath the rubble
If anyone’s out there, help me
Then
For the first time in weeks, I see a man
He holds a gun to his chest as he steps over dead bodies as if they were land mines and one wrong step will put him in a grave
He is a soldier, he is an ally, he could my saviour
I shout out a cry for help and watch as his helmet turns
His face is bright like a million suns, shining on me, giving me warmth, giving me hope
He walks closer
Finally
I am
Saved.
-HG
I very much hope you enjoyed it. I tell myself I hate slam poetry but for some reason, I really like writing them, I think you can expect more in the future.
**Maybe this is not really how world war two soldiers saved civilians or how air raids went, but this is just how I think it feels like (even though I could never compare) so please forgive me if some parts are inaccurate**
