Blog: Poetry Slam

Connor Oswald, JagWire reporter

OK, I have decided that for this week’s post to switch things up a bit. Instead of a short narrative, it is time to give another facet of creative writing the spotlight. Here are a couple poems.

“Truth”

Ain’t it funny,
in that “silly,
shake your head”
kinda way?

How we always ask
for truth.
How we at times
demand truth.

But really
we are looking
for kinder, sweeter
versions of it.

We like our truth
with a nice, heaping
side of fiction,
their boundaries blurring.

Because the hard
truth. The clear truth.
Nothing but the truth.
Is nothing but pain.

Ain’t truth funny
in that, “laugh
while you’re crying”
kind of way?

“Failing Memories”

Do you remember,
how things used to be?
When we were wild and free,
unshackled and unchained.

Do you  remember
when our bodies,
when our minds,
bore no blemishes?

Do you remember
how we’d run?
Arms thrown out wide
Almost as if we could take flight.

Do you remember
believing that the world
was as innocent and reckless
as we were?

Do you remember,
when we were young?
How it felt
To be a child?

Do you remember?
Because sometimes,
I feel
like I’m forgetting.

“A Lost Argument”

Shutters slam.
Tires screech,
Burning black tracks
On already blackened roads.

The world
Holds its breath,
As the air still echoes
with your fury.

Then,
For a moment
Silence reigns.

Heads poke out of doorways.
Glancing left,
and right.
Wondering, is it safe?

You don’t respond.
Too caught up
Probing and prodding
new found wounds.

So they dart out
Laughing, playing
and smiling.

Their worlds restart,
Only disrupted for a moment.
While yours
Still lies in pieces.

“At Night”

Some fear the night,
Scared of
twisting shadows
Lurking behind
unseen corners

They are too busy
running from
the monsters
they’ve created.

Too busy to find solace
in the soft light
of twilight stars
dotting messages across the sky.

Too busy to steal peace
from the soft
buffets of midnight wind,
rolling across
bare skin.

They’re too busy hiding,
to realize that being here,
Alone.
Cloaked by night
is far safer
than the seemingly
gentle sunlight.

“At Day”

Can you see the day breaking?
Do you feel your fear crumbling,
broken, like the fading night?

Is your hope growing,
bolstered by radiant sunlight?
Its beams reaching out
to wrap their fingers around you.

Do you fall to your knees,
overwhelmed?

Until you realize,
that the sky isn’t cloudless.

Until you realize
that shadows still linger.

Do they beckon to you?
Offering respite.

Respite, from the sun
that burned,
that branded,
your skin

Respite, from the sunlight
That once seemed so gentle
But now beats down
With heavy handed strokes.

In those moments,
with your tender skin,
but hardened resolve
You leap.
Craving the shadows.

Wondering, where
has the night gone?

Which of these poems was your favorite?

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