Our Host
Anna J. Small Roseboro is a wife and mother, poet and writing coach, and National Board Certified Teacher with over forty years of experience. She has taught English and Speech to students in middle school, high school, and Literacy in the Content Areas and Curriculum Design to students in college, in public, parochial, and private schools in five states. She now is directing her attention to online ministries, coaching new writers, and mentoring early career classroom teachers in middle schools, high schools, and colleges. She has self-published books in various genres. Rowman Littlefield Education has published ten of Anna’s textbooks for teachers.
Inspiration: Projection or Protection?
We Wear the Mask
Paul Laurence Dunbar – 1872-1906
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile
And mouth with myriad subtleties,
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but oh great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile,
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
This poem, “We Wear the Mask”, by Paul Lawrence Dunbar takes on new meaning in our current political climate and insidious pandemic. In his poem, Dunbar writes about “fronting” or “skinnin” and grinnin’” as we used to say in Motown. In Urban Slang, these expressions mean putting on a mask to hide what you really feel, or smiling to keep from crying, fussing or cussing.
In the protests across the country, we see rioting protestors wearing masks, we saw them in the march that ended in a deadly invasion at the Capitol Building in Washington, DC. Across the continents, we are all required by law or decree to wear masks to help mitigate the spread of a virulent virus. Why do we wear masks?
Today, let’s write a poem about wearing masks.
- Choose line(s) from the Dunbar poem to include somewhere in your poem.
- Write personally about something you experienced or observed about masking, or
- Consider writing in the persona of one of the political protestors this past year, or a character in a text you currently are teaching.
In the persona of a character, this last approach recommended here, is one way I used the Dunbar poem as a pre-final exam review. Students in my senior English class were asked to consider one of the minor characters in the text we’d studied that semester who appeared to wear a mask as described by Dunbar. After completing sentences that begin with Who? What? When? Where? Why? and How? the student then wrote a couple of paragraphs about or in the persona of that minor character.
This assignment allowed students to practice several skills taught during high school. (1) Reading and writing about poetry. (2) Reflecting on the role of minor characters in fiction and non-fiction texts. (3) Writing in the journalistic style that includes answers to the five W’s and H.
Why We Gotta Wear the Mask? by Anna J. Small Roseboro
We wear the mask
To hide the fact and blur with tact
That we don’t want to wear the mask.
We don’t like the fact
That something so very small
Can so easily topple men that tall.
COVID, they call it, with bright red hair
Is really quite small but we can’t fight it
Even with a dare. So everywhere
We go we have to wear the mask.
We wear the mask to protect those we love
While wondering why our God above
Does not decend like a peaceful dove
And give that virus a heave-ho and shove.
In the meantime, we wear the mask
To show we care. Sequestered at home
Or out walking alone, we shout inside as we roam,
“Hey you, COVID, in your glory don’t bask!”
“Hey you vaccine! Don’t do me no harm
“When them nurses shoot you into my arm!
“Get busy and do your task
So we won’t be having to wear the mask.”
To read more from Anna J. Small Roseboro, explore her most recently published personal book: EXPERIENCE POEMS AND PICTURES: Poetry that Paints/Pictures that Speak (2019), a collection of her poems and pictures of artwork by 39 students and friends, teachers and parents who contributed their work for this volume. Not surprising, Anna includes in this book, an invitation for readers and viewers to reflect, create art, and draft their own poems and stories. This “Reflections” section is available four languages: English, French, German, and Spanish. Her newest book for scholars teaching students in college general education courses is PLANNING WITH PURPOSE: A Handbook for New College Instructors (2021). ajroseboro@ajroseboro@comcast.net; https://ajsmallroseboro.wordpress.com/ ; http://teachingenglishlanguage.arts/
Anna, thank you for the invite. Your lesson sounds really powerful, and I appreciate you sharing it here! I’m not particularly proud of this poem, but this moment from my 8th-grade retreat was the first thing that came to mind when I read the prompt. I wrote this Allison-style. I set a timer and wrote what I could!
In junior high, my class
decorated masks only
to burn them in a fire.
A symbolic gesture,
said Ms. Ralph.
We watched and remained
gathered in a circle.
The teacher told us we should
be more true to
ourselves.
“On a scale of 1-5
How well do your classmates
treat one another?”
In each answer,
our fragile network
of forced friendships
vanished.
Raw honesty
From eighth graders.
is as genuine as it gets.
No honey was made of it.
Chaos ensued.
The conch shell was
disrespected.
Tears descended.
Reason and logic were ignored.
As the only witness,
the English teacher told us
to put the masks back on
and pretend to get along.
Rachelle,
Brutal honesty is not unique to 8th grade girls.
Sorry, you had this bad experience.
I do not want to be cliché with the falsehood of what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, we all know of at least one case where that isn’t true.
It is great that even after that experience you chose not only to become a teacher, but an English teacher at that.
Yikes, what was that teacher/counselor thinking? I like the story, despite the second hand horror. I particularly like the narrow format–it pulls the reader down through the story very effectively. Nice job.
“We wear the mask to protect,” I say.
So loyal and true to heart she believes
from the one from which she grew,
the most trusted mother’s womb
where her life began and is eternally attached.
Then a call from the marionette,
“your daughters’ class is quarantined.”
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
they say it doesn’t exist,
the puppeteers, the elders of the local elite
they don’t believe
the truth, what’s real, the science, the facts!
no one needs to wear their masks in class.
Despite the bullying, the ridicule,
she wore her mask, she believed through us,
the truth, what’s real, the science, the facts!
“POISTIVE- “
“But mask do not protect ourselves,
they protect others from getting the
disease from people infected.”
In counting all our tears and sighs,
the truth seemed like a lie.
That crushing word, our family,
the fear, anxiety, disbelief.
No one else in class wore their mask.
My daughter did, she felt fear,
but within my embrace I said most firm,
“I love you! I’m proud of you! I applaud you!
You did everything right.
You did your part; you stopped the spread!”
the mask
far from the door I sit alone
mask lying beside my laptop til
someone approaches my door and
I wave them in, don my mask
adding the mask becomes a gesture
of welcome, after months of alone
do we sit to talk or stand and wander
the nearly empty space
this mask now hardly noticed
not a shield to hide who I am
a cover to keep me present
to whoever you may be
words shared escape the mask
small talk or words needed to be shared
it’s what we used to do
we’re finding our way back
so we wear the mask
Gosh. I didn’t have the words for this, but I love love love this line. I imagine every time a teacher wants to walk into my classroom and there’s that pause… One in which the teacher just looks at me, I reach over for my mask, and nothing else needs to be said to mean “sure, come in in.”
Britt, I love how you show this scene with your friend and how the mask is hardly even noticed. Your final line is effective and resonates with the reason masks are important. Thanks for sharing!
The mask I wear is fabric now,
but it hasn’t always been.
Now I hide half my face from the masses–
an excuse to not smile, not to make eye contact,
not to reveal my mind to any observer.
The covering is necessary to protect
one and all from the relentless pandemic.
Despite reluctance by some, determination
that guards aren’t effective or comfortable,
the science says otherwise.
I want to walk invisible through the world.
Except when I don’t want to.
I wear the mask that grins and lies,
catering to expectations and evaluating eyes.
I wear the mask that pleases those
who judge without context or consideration.
Whether the mask is tangible or illusory
my mask protects me from the world.
Cara,
I understand where you are coming from here. Great poem. And since 99.9% of the I can read your mind from miles away this line means nothing to me.
???
Chills! Expectations and judgement, I love the words you used here. Beautiful poem.
Thinking of how the mask has become a part of us and may be that way for a long way to come. I like the words “my mask protect me from the world.” The mask also keeps my face warm. This poem really tells it like I feel it. Thanks.
Cara, as I was brainstorming for my poem, I had made similar connections. I’m glad you wrote about this because you are so eloquent in your word choice.
“Whether the mask is tangible or illusory
my mask protects me from the world.”
Anna!
I can relate to the part “So we won’t be having to wear the mask” because I personally am tired of wearing the masks although they can be very festive. I never realized how much I valued facial expressions until I could no longer see them. Your words “to show we care” really moved me because many people fail “to show they care” on a daily basis and it really stood out to me the most being that care is more than a physical representation but also a visual one.
This is such a smart prompt, Anna. Thank you for sharing it (and I’ve passed it on to my former colleagues who teach the African American Humanites class in my district). No poem today, but I’ll share that the prompt took me to Austen’s Emma and the masks that 19th-century women were forced to wear, such that they barely knew their own hearts…
And then to 21st century Black women who have fought hard to remove that mask – Beyonce, Toni Morrison, Stacey Abrams, Serena Williams, Janelle Monae, Audre Lorde, Erykah Badu, Cori Bush, Kara Walker, Megan Thee Stallion…
And then to this James Baldwin quote I heard today, which is maybe a response to Dunbar’s poem: “Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within. I use the word ‘love’ here not merely in the personal sense, but as a state of being, or a state of grace, not in the infantile American sense of being made happy, but in the tough and universal sense of quest and daring and growth.”
David, You always make me think and feel. Thank you for making astute connections and bringing them forth in this space.
Love the Baldwin quote and the list of women. I’m a huge Cori Bush fan. She’s a gift to Missouri, my home state I’ve watched from a geographical distance in horror in recent years. Thinking about the Baldwin quote makes me think about the ways our masks destroy us from within.
Anna, I love playing in rhythms and rhymes, so I followed (almost) Dunbar’s pattern to write about our school lifting its mask mandate today.
Our mandate ended on this day–
The students came without delay
Unmasked! Released! The virus done!
So free at last, the battle won!
Their ignorance was on display.
My cousin died on Monday last.
The COVID blood clots took him fast
At 58, his family stunned
I wear the mask.
I may be safe; I’m now immune.
But maskless piper plays his tune
And children skip with happy gait,
to quarters tight and congregate
Unmasked, they feel too safe too soon.
I (still) wear the mask.
Allison, you and me both…I still wear the mask. It’s the youngsters that worry me the most sometimes..
Allison, your sad story of loss and ignorance. A tune we’ve been playing for too long. My four students and I spoke of the numbers lost and celebrated our time to learn together today.
Oh my gosh, Allison, your poem is gut-wrenching. Something about the rhyme and rhythm here adds another dimension of grimness. The line “At 58, his family still stunned” resonates with grief and disbelief and the horror of Covid’s wrath. Then the juxtaposition of the maskless piper to the children skipping is absolutely jarring. I feel stunned after reading this. It makes me angry, sad, and terrified. Angry with the leadership in our state, agony for you and your family’s pain, and terrified that we are trying to push too quickly to attempt to return a norm that may never really exist again. I hope you publish this poem. It’s incredible! Hugs to you, Allison, my friend. Barb
Allison,
I’m so sorry to read this grievous news about your family. I notice the paradox, the ambiguity in the lines
“At 58, his family stunned
I wear the mask.”
This policy reversal at your school is heartbreaking. Keep wearing the mask. I worry we’re going to see many sick teens soon.
Allison – Your poem has the powerful contrast of a lightness and childlike tempo while carrying the frightening reality of imminent danger and loss. In that, I feel your worry and the power of the mask. I am so so sorry that “COVID blood clots took him fast.” This virus is brutal. And for children and family especially we wear a mask. Sending hugs, Susie
Anna, THANK you for Dunbar’s poem! I like to use this short film as an introduction to identity with my freshmen (the identities we wear with ease, and those we hide). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikGVWEvUzNM I can’t wait to pair it with Dunbar’s poem next time I teach it!
Thanks for the poem, the reminder to remind our young ones to keep masking, and for the video link. Learning about alternatives for teaching is another bonus in this generous group.
We Wear the Mask
(It has been a very long day, so in an effort write a poem everyday, some (like this one) may be all I can muster.)
If not for Corona,
I wouldn’t wear a physical mask.
As long as it terrorizes,
No one will have to ask.
Against Coronavirus
We continue the fight.
Until it is eradicated,
Wearing a mask seems right.
Thanks, Donetta. There’s no poem too short!
So come each day, share when you can, comment when you can, but also glean all you can. That’s who we are and we’re glad you’re here.
Donnetta, You’ve mustered up a wonderful and straight-forward poem. Your final stanza says it all! It does feel right to wear the mask; to do the right thing, so we can be in this world together a bit longer. Covid is a terror! Thanks for sharing!
Anna, what a great prompt and invitation. So many layers and connections and opportunities for critical thought.
We Should All Wear a mask
But not all of us do.
And the ones
who don’t
mostly
never had to.
Their voices
never
obscured or muffled or silenced
by a racist system
instead are amplified
as they complain about
the rights they’ve
always had.
What rage over
such a mild
inconvenience.
I wonder how they’d
react if they ever
had to wear
Dunbar’s Mask.
How POWERFUL!!! So many don’t have to wear Dunbar’s Mask or a physical mask now. But, oh the ones of us who do. I love this poem.
Chea, this line: “they complain about
the rights they’ve
always had” rings so true!
Your poem is solid and packs a punch.
Zing!
Jane Elliott couldn’t get any volunteers when she asked a similar question in February., 2019.
https://medium.com/@JonathanTSDM/ignorant-white-people-put-trump-in-the-white-house-jane-elliott-tells-sold-out-crowd-a39cc28dd72c
Thanks so much for sharing this resource! I think most of my preservice teachers learn about the blue eye/brown eye experiment, but learn about it as history without the update this piece provides.
I love your words – such a mild inconvenience and then turning it towards Dunbar. Our reflex to slip on a seatbelt is a reflex. Preserving life is survival.
Wearing a mask is the new normal.
Like it or not. Even though
It was once considered abnormal.
Without them, there wouldn’t be a plateau.
They hide our cheeks and shade our eyes;
Concealing what is underneath or within.
They are a great disguise.
Even when hanging at the bottom of your chin.
They can be formal.
Wear them to the gathering.
They can be informal.
Wear them as your usual.
My son calls the under chin masks chin diapers! I like your last line. Ir reminds me of Nike’s “Just Do It” slogan.
Garin? Dudley? I’m so glad you shared a poem tonight. YES! I remember (pre-covid) seeing a few masked people in airports and thinking “Sheesh…overreaction” (once abnormal). I love how you exposed the “great disguise” even when “hanging at the bottom of your chin.
Your last line is golden.
WE don thin veils to obscure from the eyes of others, false confidence under strained smiles
WEAR masks as pretenses of confidence, swathed in fine thread
THE desire to end that which unravels inside, and to stop the shifting sand which keeps us from solid ground
MASKS our needs and desire for belonging
THAT we are not “we,” we are only “one” and we wear
GRINS and spill
LIES because we must
Tammi,
I enjoyed your reading your golden shovel poem. I especially appreciate the line “masks our needs and desire for belonging”–yes, we are social beings and need this so much! Thank you for sharing today.
I loved this line especially ” false confidence under strained smiles”
Masks
I wear my mask for
Myself
and for You.
My misery will not be on display,
nor my victory smile, for
either one has the capacity for harm,
whether rubbing salt
in an unseen wound
or diminishing your joy…
The world is hard.
Wear a mask
Gjsands 4/5/21
Gayle,
I love how you will not put your misery or victory on display…what a stand this poem takes. Thank you for sharing with us today.
Absolutely love this! I must admit, I enjoy this part of my mask-wearing very much –
This introvert loves being a little less visible, and that others are, too, letting me stay retreated….
Gayle, THANK you for going beneath the cliches of what masks mean. Your line “my misery will not be on display, nor my victory smile” stabbed me with its truth. And both have capacity for harm.
“The world is hard; wear a mask” nails it.
Masking
From a human perspective,
good grief,
we celebrated
the great masked men,
the Lone Ranger,
Zorro, Batman…
used masks
to display or disguise
to woo or wage war
to protect or punish
to hide or identify,
to mask has a history —
mid-thirteen-hundreds,
those medieval years,
Europe dripping in the pathogens
of Black Death,
bodies piled high in the streets,
sent the Plague Doctors
to the frontlines of Venice,
outfitted in black hats,
waxed gowns,
over-the-head bird beaked masks,
the beaks stuffed with herbs to curb
the stench, perhaps filter the bad air
thought to carry disease,
(Miasma Theory,
the forerunner of germ theory,
since it took another three hundred years
to spot those microscopic cooties);
four hundred years after that
the Scold’s Bridle
used on women
“who needed to be muzzled,”
women deemed shrews
by men who feared women —
masking has quite a history.
I opt to stanch the chance
of spreading deadly pathogens
to myself or friends
I don’t need to see a germ dancing in red rubies
before I believe it is indubitably there
with a bold potential to harm;
I need only to trust the sciences
and their ever-evolving appliances
to help us live healthier lives.
The earth does, in fact, travel round the sun,
the world is not flat,
bacterium causes infection,
and novel virus pathogens kill.
Sure, we have the Hannibal Lecters,
the Phantom of the Opera,
Darth Vader and Dannie Darko,
but for me,
when I mask up
I’ll think myself a cedar waxwing
or yellowthroat or cardinal
or the masked weaver of Namibia
or the rainbow lorikeet,
and I’ll do that because the mask
asks you to imagine me
here looking out for you
and flashing a bit
of myself,
lucky enough
to be upright
and breathing.
by Susie Morice, April 5, 2021©
Susie,
History really has given the world a reason to fear the mask. I enjoyed the way you turned this fearsome view of the mask into something positive in the “yellowthroat or cardinal/or the masked weaver of Namibia” and of course people looking out for one another.
Susie—a wonderful history lesson and a wonderful analogy—I’m going for cedar waxwing, personally!
Susie, I enjoyed how you added allusions and the story you tell based on other masked narratives. I also appreciate your second stanzas and the comparisons you draw for this theme. Thank you for sharing.
Susie,
This poem takes us on a trip through time, from pop culture icons and and movie legends, to medieval torture of women and yet another deadly pandemic, you’ve reminded us these masks are nothing new. I wonder what has changed. Perhaps it’s both political and narcissistic obsessions w/ our own images in reverse screens. Love the rhyme in sciences/appliances. But these images from nature are my favorite:
Reading this part I thought about your raccoon friend during the holidays. His mask appeals to me, too.
Susie, such fascinating history here (first time hearing of Scold’s Bridle and just ugh). The color shift from the Darth Vaders and Phantoms to the yellow throats and rainbow lorikeets allows that flashing of self – beautiful shift choices!
Magnificent poem, Susie. I love the visual details of the black plague masks. I have seen a picture of this and you describe it perfectly. I also loved all the references to all the masks of super heroes and then the darker fictional characters such as Donnie Darko. Your end though is the part I love the most. Describing yourself as these lovely birds and the fact that you are
Incredible poem, and I’m sure glad you’re here to share your brilliance! You are as beautiful as a rainbow lorikeet. Loved it!
Post-Corona R&J
Quarantined Friar John
Failed at his one job.
And so Romeo would never learn
The lengths his lover went to.
Knocked out cold, Jules was,
(For a strangely precise 42 hours),
Entombed among the likes of Uncle Antonio,
Full dead now for ten years.
No, the Friar, with a gleeful tear in his eye,
Over a pint at the local tavern
Would not later recount his role in the ruse
Which reunited Romeo with his Juliet.
SMH, Friar John!
Social distancing, hello?
I know a madrigal that pairs well with hand washing.
I’m sure someone from Act I would
Have graciously loaned a mask.
Woe to Friar John!
In his defense, the lovers were star-crossed.
Katrina — You HAVE to use this when you teach Romeo and Juliet. This was such fun to think about. You made me laugh… “social distancing…hello!” LOL! what a fun time you had with this poem! Thank you. Susie
Katrina — Love this wonderful and entertaining allusion to the iconic star-crossed lovers. So apropos! You have to share this one with your students.
Love this!! The allusion is perfection, punctuated with SMH, and hello? Made my night!!
A Mask in Place
I watched a movie with my family once
About a man who wore a mask.
Any time he donned the mask
The him of his dreams would come out at once.
The him of his dreams was “cool”
At least, that’s what he thought.
You know what I have always thought?
I really hate the word cool.
Its definitions are too numerous and vague:
Chilly but not cold, enthusiastic but not bold;
Maybe because I’m always cold…and often too bold
“Cool” cannot be vulnerable because vulnerable is not cool. Cool must be vague.
In the movie, vulnerability, not the mask, won over the girl
In real life, screens do just as good as cotton for covering up
Tell me, then, how to not mask up
In a place that says, “wash your face, girl!”
We often seek life in the wrong place
Finding death, decay, and emptiness, where we thought
We might find shelter, freedom, and abundance. An old-made-new thought:
Put down the masks and you might find the right place.
Bailey,
I love the rhythm of this poem and the many layers of meaning. Especially love the truth in this line: ” ‘Cool’ cannot be vulnerable because vulnerable is not cool. Cool must be vague.”
Bailey, wow, I love the wisdom and insight of your poem. The dissection of the word “cool” is fascinating and thought-provoking. I could not agree more with the message your final stanza shares. Too often we do seek life in the wrong place. Outstanding poem!
I Miss Their Faces
First, it was Zoom.
Cameras off –
Black screen mask-
or just partial faces
or no body at all –
a room standing in
for them while they
hid somewhere off-screen.
The few faces
I did see
made my heart sing.
Then came hybrid learning –
not much changed.
Windows open meant
hoods and hats
appeared on their heads
pulled tight and low
“shades our eyes.”
Add in the masks
“it hides our cheeks”
and mouths.
So much of their
faces covered.
Were they smiling?
Were they snarling?
Maybe they were sticking
their tongues out at me.
I had no idea what they
were thinking or feeling.
Even when they talked,
their voices were
Zoom choppy
or a muffled mess.
The chit chat,
laughing, and yelling
across the room
were veiled by masks.
I miss the noisy
banter bouncing
around our class.
I miss the expression
that glistened in their
eyes or mouths.
Heck, I miss
absolutely everything
about their faces.
Me too! You really captured what I’ve been feeling, Heather. This line says it all: “I miss/absolutely everything/about their faces.”
Nailed it! So much is missing nowadays. And what are they missing from our faces? So much unanticipated loss…
So beautiful and true, ='(
Thank you for sharing your beautiful and heartbreaking poem, I miss my students too…
Peek-a-boo
I don’t see you
eyes say a lot
but mouths are the spot
for the coos
and the boo!’s
tongue sticking
ear nipping
wind blowing
teeth showing
curious reflection
and goofy connection
so when we’re hiding
what are they missing?
Yes, my heart so much feels the opening words of your poem. I want to see the goofy, playful, and joyous smiles of those around me.
Rachel,
I love the playfulness of your poem, especially the imagery of
Fun poem.
This poem sang, Rachel!
I love the sounds and sights created by your poem. The coos are my favorite and bring me back to when my children were babies.
Love the light hearted tone to this piece. Even though it reflects what were are missing in our current pandemic, the reminder of the beauty of faces makes me smile.
I needed some joy tonight—this is it!
Rachel, how succinctly you’ve captured what so many of our are missing!:
We used to say the eyes are windows to the soul. Hmmm. Were we only looking at their eyes?
Thank you for this challenging prompt, Anna Roseboro Ethical.
The Dominant Masks
They ask to hear it from their voices
As if their pain will alter choices.
These tales of trauma, open sores
Are not exemplar tales of yours.
They wear the mask to save their spirits.
Go read a book and educate
on cultures that don’t dominate.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all their tears and sighs?
They wear the mask to save their spirits.
A culture is a precious seed,
where groups can share a common creed.
Outsiders treat these ways of old,
As if they were but rare and gold.
And make it safe for masks to fall
belonging differently one and all.
Melanie,
This is the challenge we must all take, to with our canonical traditions finally break. I’m especially cheering for these lines:
This poem is a choral cry to march into the future. I love the rhythm and rhyme.
Inspirational, Melanie, and beautifully written! Agree that “they wear the mask to save their spirits.”
Love this prompt! A mask poem will take some thought, so I’m going to post my response to yesterday’s prompt, the “Say to Them” poem:
Speech to My Daughters: Speech to the Lost
Say to them,
say to the heart-eaters,
the timekeepers,
the moment snatchers,
the pressure cookers,
“My spirit is my own, and I command my ship.”
Because you do.
Break your moorings,
sail out upon salt and storm,
and cotton candy skies.
Shed old skin.
Silken chrysalis threads bind your feet.
Shake them off and fly.
This is beautiful! It makes me want to know more about your daughters and the story behind the poem. But I especially love the last two lines: “Silken chrysalis threads bind your feet. / Shake them off and fly.” That sounds like freedom.
SO many powerrful images here, Wendy! The heart-eaters, the moment snatchers, and those silken chrysalis thread binding feet are my favorites.
Anna, thank you so much for this challenging prompt and for your delightful poem. I love the no-nonsense attitude you share. I really enjoyed the line: ““Hey you, COVID, in your glory don’t bask!” Loved it! I wanted to write about all the crazy comments I have heard this year, but it was just too much so I turned to the literature prompt although I feel as though my poem could almost be an allegory.
I’ll Wear the Mask
He wears the mask to disguise his sinister intent
Precious lives senselessly slashed—he’s clearly crazed; hell bent
Rabid with revenge; bashing in blonde heads
I turn each bleak page, filled with mournful dread
Wondering if the vicious violence will soon relent
Why should so many innocent die?
I’m overwhelmed by their terrified cries.
Please capture this masked maniac soon!
The bloody gore is making me swoon.
I may have to abandon this writer
Who’s grim plots are filled with evil desire.
I cannot stop the horror on the page,
But I can choose to leave this dreadful stage
To read an uplifting tale and not a spellbinder.
And when I enter the bookstore, library, or alley
I’ll wear the mask—it’s not sinister or even a task
Barb Edler
5 April 2021
Barb,
These lines speak to my question of which genre will capture my attention during our Covid daze:
I have so many questions about your literary and literal subject. I love the ambiguity.
Oh my goodness, Barb — You are a tougher bird than I…I absolutely cannot read scary, murdering, maniacal tales—yikes! Nightmares! You so effectively capture that page turning pull of the book while also knowing you must abandon “this writer.” Yup! I hear that! HA! It sure makes our mask “debates” seem ridiculous — very well executed! Love it! Susie
Barb,
I love your determination to finish a book even when it is upsetting you. I do the same–perhaps I am too competitive to surrender even when I am unhappy? Who knows? I love your last lines:
They’re the perfect finale to a dark tale between the pages.
Did I miss it? WHAT book are you referencing? Should I read it?! #MustKnow
It’s called Unsub. So many young women are murdered. It is really grim. I keep thinking that the next female character is going to escape, but no. It’s almost over, but I just shake my head about some of the actions. It’s like watching a horror film where the girls do something really stupid in a sorority house, and yes, it has that too!
Thank you for this prompt, Anna! I took a cue from your mentor text and tried to give voice to one of the characters in the current play that I’m teaching in class. It turned out to be a PSA of sorts…lol.
_____________________
Rosencrantz or Guildenstern Flaunt the Mask Mandates
Look, I know we prolly
should wear one, I mean,
even the prince has one,
it’s all black with a
skull on it
very emo if you ask me
and even though he’s all
“and man delights not me”
he’s still willing to help his
fellow Danes by protecting
them by wearing one.
I don’t see why we need
to wear one,
hell, nobody ever thinks
about us, nobody can
even distinguish between
the two of us, I mean,
Claudius has no idea —
he’s the king, I get that —
but still it would be nice,
and I know we get or
own play, but I’m not
sure what I think about
that yet, have you heard
the title? It does not
sound like something
I’d enjoy, but I haven’t
read it yet so maybe
it has a happy ending.
Look, I’m just saying
once we deliver Hamlet
to England, we won’t
have to wear these
stupid masks anymore.
Wait, what? There’s a UK
variant? So what, look,
they make my ears hurt
and my nose is too small
to wear one comfortably
And that’s why they died.
Wear your damn mask.
Scott, I’m fully laughing at this. Everything from the title right on through is so clever. I hope you share this with your students and challenge them to write their own.
This was too funny, Scott–made me laugh out loud.
Loved:
“hell, nobody ever thinks
about us, nobody can
even distinguish between
the two of us, ”
and this shift:
“Wait, what? There’s a UK
variant? So what,…”
Great poem!
Scott — How funny to have you write such a crazy funny poem about these two goofball characters. The discourse of it just had me laughing out loud…”and that’s why they died.” Bam. HA! Giving these two iconic Shakespeare roles this dialog is just plain genius. Get your kids to do this! I love it! Thank you for such a fun read. Susie
As always, a joy of words and cynicism!
Thank you for bringing these two characters, and I do mean characters, to life. I am glad you found a good use for the loathsome ‘prolly.’
Scott, you’ve done it! Made me chuckle after so much that is going on around us and expressed in some many of our poems today. You prolly know your poem is dope! Right?
Scott, I am beyond delighted with what you’ve done here. I want to say ROTHFL, but that would be so…yesterday. You’ve done it all here, woven the Bard into this moment, and this moment into the Bard. Bless you.
Superwoman
by Mo Daley 4-5-21
I have a secret to confess
As soon as I open my eyes in the morning
I slip on my Superwoman mask
I CAN DO IT ALL!
I fly out the door, lunchbox in hand,
Superwoman cape trailing out the window of my Beemer
I teach the preteens with abandon,
Not only providing fascinating lessons on main idea, personification, and inferring,
But shifting to explain vaccine efficacy, snake migration, or The Real Housewives of New Jersey
As the need arises
My work at school done, I take off for home
I whirl around my not-so-humble abode
Dusting, vacuuming, doing laundry,
Scrubbing toilets, decluttering, and organizing bookshelves
Before I begin preparing the highly nutritious
Gourmet meal we will eat on the veranda
(*note to self-cut the grass tomorrow)
I flutter upstairs, don my peignoir,
Then pour the wine for our post-meal tête-à-tête
After listening to my husband prattle on about his day
I float up to the bedroom—
When it occurs to me
That Superwoman doesn’t wear a mask!
But I’m too tired to care
Mo, you most definitely are SuperMo! This is so aptly named. Women do so much (it’s exhausting just to read through). What a clever take on the prompt – love those last lines, “Superwoman doesn’t wear a mask but I’m too tired to care.”
Facts. Love the tone in this one, Mo. 😉
Mo — this is a riot. You have absolutely nailed the ludicrous superhero images …”floating” and “whirling” through the crapola real women face…LOL! I think my favorite part is whipping on the peignoir…ahahaha! What a woman! You had entirely too much fun writing this! Super! Thanks. Susie
Mo—this is perfect—the day, the tone, the pig or (I had forgotten that term, although I ALWAYS wear mine!!)—and then, the realization at the end. 🙂
Oh goodness! This is lovely! I wanted to do something like this, but it didn’t come out and you did it so much better! Thank you for really expressing the chaos of your days and the fun of your poem. 🙂
HAHAHAHAHA! Love this on so many levels!
This sequence might be my favorite:
“Not only providing fascinating lessons on main idea, personification, and inferring,
But shifting to explain vaccine efficacy, snake migration, or The Real Housewives of New Jersey
As the need arises”
Isn’t that the TRUTH? I love teaching English because, yup, everything fits in.
Thank you for this gem of a poem.
Thank you for this inspiration, Anna. I love the poem by Paul Dunbar – what interesting new/additional meaning it offers today, in our pandemic world. I loved all the rhymes in your poem, and especially loved the line calling out COVID personally, “Hey you, COVID, in your glory don’t bask!”
I keep thinking about the bravery of Darnella Frazier, and decided to write into this, borrowing a line from Paul Dunbar’s poem.
She Filmed: The Bravery of Darnella Frazier
fearing George Floyd would die all alone
she confronted fear and courage found
defying warnings and terror all around
she filmed
Beneath our feet, and long the mile,
nine full long murderous minutes fill
and twenty-nine seconds longer still
she filmed
seventeen years young, her brave soul asked
how to answer his gasps, “please, please!”
face to face with threatening police
she filmed
Beneath our feet, and long the mile,
nine full long murderous minutes fill
and twenty-nine seconds longer still
she filmed
recognizing this depravity as ordinary
her brothers, her father, her cousins, her friends
she knew “That could’ve been one of them”
she filmed
Beneath our feet, and long the mile,
nine full long murderous minutes fill
and twenty-nine seconds longer still
she filmed
police knee pressed upon his neck
opening eyes, letting the whole world see
what is truly masked in the land of the free
she filmed
Beneath our feet, and long the mile,
nine full long murderous minutes fill
and twenty-nine seconds longer still
she filmed
Maureen,
I’ve been riveted to the television watching the trial and am in awe of the brave bystanders and the Minneapolis officers, especially the Chief today, and the way they are changing the narrative and breaking through that silent, thin, blue line. These lines repeated in your poem remind us how long nine and a half minutes are in the life of a man with a knee on his neck:
“nine full long murderous minutes fill
and twenty-nine seconds longer still
she filmed”
Claire MCCaskille told Nicole Wallace all the prosecutor needs to do is stand in silence before the jury for nine plus minutes to make the point Derek Chauvin killed George Floyd.
Oh my! Maureen, what a tribute to her courage! Do what you can to get this to her. She probably is getting more criticism than acclaim.
Thanks for sharing with us that we never know why we are inspired to use a particular skill or talent. But, if we feel strongly, and it seems to “moral” thing to do, we should proceed.
Maureen, I don’t really know how to respond to your poem. It’s haunting, it’s beautiful, and it’s important. It’s so hard to read. Thank you for writing this.
Wow, Maureen. This was so powerful. I loved your refrain at the end of each stanza. Heartbreaking–it just knocked me out. <3
Maureen — This is a poem of power…you had me glued to the counting to the horror. The whole travesty of George Floyd is palpable. Your repetitions that drive those pulsing minutes… oh man. Really, Maureen, this is an incredibly raw, important poem. I so appreciate that you wrote this. Really important poem. Thank you. Susie
Wow. Just wow.
Maurene,
Thank you for this beautiful rendition of an unspeakable tragedy. Poems turn the pain of living into something beautiful. That’s what you’ve done here. Your focus on the courage of Darnella Frazier is a strong poetic lens.
Masks
Masks, masks everywhere I turn I see masks.
Worn by those who are hoping to stop the spread of germs
Worn by those who are trying to hide their true self
Worn by those who pretend all is well, even when it is not
Everywhere I turn I see masks
Masks on the ground forgotten and trampled on
Masks shoved in my purse
Masks hiding in my car
Even have masks hanging by my front door
Everywhere I turn I see masks
Has this mask been worn?
Do they need to be aired out?
Is it time to wash the reusable ones?
Everywhere I turn I see masks
But who is behind all the masks I see
Someone with torn and bleeding heart who continues to smile
A friend who has lost a loved one during pandemic
Could that be a student I see over there, their voice sounds like one I hear over Zoom
Everywhere I turn I see masks
This poem is an artifact of this time, “Everywhere I turn I see masks.” Yes, honestly, they are everywhere, offering just enough anonymity that we simply don’t know or see each other’s pain and struggles.
DeAnna, thanks for being transparent here, showing how often we are a part of the problem – not properly disposing used masks.
But, thanks also for reminding us not to be surprised when we FINALLY meet students in person we’ve only seen on screen…especially when those first weeks the students will behind the masks.
Oh how I respect those of you current classroom teachers and administrators!
Please know, you’re in my daily prayers. Really!
Masks ARE everywhere, and now, I feel naked without them when I step outside my house. It is another thing to remember if traveling outside your norm. I have stocked masks in my bag and in my husband’s car. You can’t leave home without them.
Truth—I ran into an old friend one day, and neither of us was sure who the other was… masks. Everywhere.
I felt this today when I was back in the school for the first time in many months–several people said “hello” and I had no idea who they were. Awkward. Nice job sneaking into my mind. 😉
???
Cara,
Love how ours minds are more often than not on the same wave length. See my response to your poem from today.
P.S. It was great to see you in person today.
DeAnna — I really like the rhythm and tone of your piece, and I LOVE the turn it takes in the last stanza. The repetition of the refrain is cool because it means something else at the end of the poem than it did at the beginning. Thanks for sharing!
We wear the mask
to hide the doings of the flask,
pasted on smiles
trying to forget the trials.
Why must we suffer
in order to become tougher?
The pain we must hide
forcing us to remain terrified.
One day, the mask will come loose
and with life, we will make a truce
Oh great Christ, give the weary rest,
to thee our souls cling unoppressed.
(*Note: Unfortunately, inspired by student experience)
Wow, strong poem. The words above hit home as sadly I’ve heard stories of the “flask” breaking families apart. Thank you for sharing.
This is such a powerful, though-provoking question, a real conundrum:
Britt, that student has YOU and will likely sense your care. Keep up the good work. Be the light!
Britt, I think your poem triggers an important social behavior that is quite disturbing if we really think about it and that is when we think that being “tough” in life is important. “Toughen up!”….ugh, how many different ways have I heard this before. Also, it is amazing to me how often instructors think that inciting fear is somehow important to do….I’m not sure this is part of your poem’s message, but no one should have to suffer from a tyrant, etc. Anyway, thank you for sharing your very thought-provoking poem! Excellent!
Britt,
These opening lines,
remind me of the way bystanders are victimized from an alcoholic’s consumption. There’s the same pretending and smiling you refer to in your poem. It’s heartbreaking. Powerful images here.
We wear the mask it hides our lies
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
The windows are open but no ones’ home
In a room full of people we remain alone
Face half covered identify half gone
Loneliness now looms isolation now yawns
Together yet separate a new human divide
We wear the mask until the brunt might subside
But when the masks finally disappear
I’ll no longer remember the mask to wear
Parent, child, colleague, friend
Masks I’ll have to resume when this ends.
Vanessa,
That final couple captures the irony inherent in our pandemic masked lives. You’ve replicated the tone and cadence of Dunbar’s poem exceptionally well.
So many of your lines gave me chills!
The last couple? It gave me words to how I’ve been feeling lately as I think about the pandemic’s end in sight. I should be only happy, right? Happy about a return to “normalcy?” I’m so out of funk, though, that it seems sometimes more of a burden. Thank you for sharing this!
These two lines following each other are very sobering to read:
What awaits us, as a society, when masks are no longer expected? How isolated and separate will we remain, I wonder?
Wow, Vanessa, your poem rocks! I love the lines: “The windows are open but no ones’ home/
In a room full of people we remain alone.” Loneliness looming and isolation yawning, are also vivid descriptors for our current reality. Loved your ability to use rhyme so effortlessly. Stunning poem!
Oooooh! The last couplet lends a whole new meaning to this! Food for some deep thought—what mask will I wear?
The Uninvited Guest Must Go
By Nancy White
Day after day
Month after month
An uninvited guest won’t leave
It hovers in the air we breathe
We wear the mask
Inside or out
We feel the fear
This suffocating guest just stays
We listen to what science says
We wear the mask
Longing for touch
Needing a break
The unrelenting guest remains
It pays no heed to all our pains
We wear the mask
Desperate for life
Travel and hugs
We get our shots without delay
We’ll live and laugh, love and play
And wear the mask no more
Nancy.
I love the image of the virus as an uninvited guest. I suspect I’ll continue wearing a mask, however, long after the pandemic ends.
Like Glenda, I have wondered if I might be continuing to wear the mask when/if the pandemic is declared over. I love the idea of “uninvited guest.” Thank you for sharing this hope.
I enjoyed this poem. As there can be many different uninvited guests, I didn’t expect it to be the virus, great choice. 🙂 Yes, I want this uninvited guest to leave as well.
This line, this image is spot on: “The unrelenting guest remains.” Yes, yes, COVID is an unrelenting guest! Suffocating! Without a doubt, uninvited. We are miserably stuck in its company.
Nancy, I truly love the “uninvited guest” metaphor and the line “it hovers in the air we breathe.” I also really like how you lead to a positive end, the time when we will wear the mask no more! (I will receive my second vaccination soon. Yes!) Thanks for sharing this brilliant poem today!
Anna,
“We Wear the Mask” has long been one of my favorite poems. It’s as timely now as when Dunbar first penned it. I think often about masks both in literature (There’s a Naipaul novel in which masking is an inherent trope.) and in life. Indeed, “we wear the mask to show we care.” Thank you for this invitation to be inspired by Dunbar’s masterpiece.
Anna, thank you for this prompt today. I will keep wearing masks as long as Dr. Fauci or others like him tell me it’s important. Because I’m tired of them, though, I didn’t want to write about those masks today. I giggled when I saw your description of COVID’s hair. Yes, so small, and we can’t seem to fight it.
COVID, they call it, with bright red hair
Is really quite small but we can’t fight it
I know there are times in my life that I wear. I’m not sure I’m self-aware enough right now, but there have been masks in the past. One that came to me when I started writing (on the Pantoum generator Stacey shared!) was when I was in grade 6…
I wore the mask of a bully
It hid my cheeks and shaded my eyes,—
I couldn’t speak truth to myself or you
I tormented the weaker ones
It hid my cheeks and shaded my eyes,—
It covered my heart, squeezed out love
I tormented the weaker ones
Fear’s seed grew into deplorable domination
It covered my heart, squeezed out love
I wore the mask of a bully
Fear’s seed grew into deplorable domination
I couldn’t speak truth to myself or you
Your poem, Denise, reminded me of the bully I was to my sister. I don’t know why I had to do that but maybe it was because I had to look tough and wear the mask of being a big sister.
Denise,
Even though this poem offers a confession, it’s also tender in its regretful tone. Poetry has a way of forcing us to confront moments we regret. We lash out at others in our own pain, and the white spaces give me pause as I wonder about yours , my friend.
Denise, your open honesty acknowledges the past and brings healing to the future. “I couldn’t speak truth to myself or you” speaks to the acknowledgement of that past and the forgiveness sought from this future self. I agree with Glenda, on the tender tone.
I absolutely admire the choice to write this honest confession in verse – wow! I’m going to have to play with the pantoum generator. Thank you for sharing this vulnerability.
Denise,
Isn’t it hard to look back on a time in our lives and know that we acted less than kind? You took it a step farther and confessed it. With genuine contrition. Kudos to you.
Denise, I love how you took on the Bully’s perspective. That final line “I couldn’t speak truth to myself or you” is absolutely riveting! Trying to understand the “bully” is a frightening task. Thanks for this perspective today!
Denise, the honesty you share here about an ugly phase in your life offers such insight about bullies in general:
and
It is crazy difficult for me to ever imagine you a bully!!
Denise, I commend you for your honesty and willingness to face something in your past, acknowledging it, confessing it, owning it. That is where self forgiveness and growth happens. I went through a few days in sixth grade where I betrayed a friend. Another friend and I kept her on the outs and taunted her. I feel like confessing it here may help me accept that I did this mean thing, I have capability to do mean things, but you’d poem helps me see it was a mask I was wearing because of insecurity and not who I really am.
Thanks for this.
Drop Scene
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
Rising granite thrusts
through earth’s skin
announcing the cast of
stony faces surveying
fallow fields populated in
the reaper’s egalitarian
heart of darkness.
Stories bodies masked:
Imposters
Pretenders
Flimflammers
strut earth’s stony
stage; some marquee
players auditioned at
their white birth;
each an understudy
born to bow as
the last scrim descends.
Every show closes;
a revival troupe
mounts new rostrums;
the understudy cannot
escape this bit part.
The god of death
directs each to
bow when the final
curtain drops; animated
masked audience members
exit down center
stage
left.
—Glenda Funk
Glenda, never have I seen, read, or heard such a poetic description of systemic racism! Your specific word choices in lines like
players auditioned at
their white birth;
each an understudy
born to bow as
the last scrim descends.
a revival troupe
mounts new rostrums;
the understudy cannot
escape this bit part.
Suggesting what kids see/hear/read is who they become! Wow! What challenge for us to “be the light, so they learn to do right!”
Glenda, this is hauntingly beautiful. As I first started reading it I saw the stone monoliths of Easter Island masking their stories in fallow fields of darkness. Then my imagination shifted gears as I read about every show closing and a revival troupe coming. The god of death and the masked audience exiting are a visual WOW!
Glenda, I had to read this masterpiece three times. What a chilling visual. Thank you for sharing these words.
Wow, Glenda. Your language choices are powerful for a powerful topic. Your granite imagery at the top brings to mind a classic Greek chorus, and it’s tone was somber. Wonderful use of theater images to tell the story of a never-ending drama. Well done.
Glenda, wow, there are so many details in this poem that have me captivated from the opening granite images to the revival troupe to the understudy’s bit part. Your end though is jaw-dropping,
As a drama lover, this one really spoke to my thespian soul. Plus, I loved the Macbeth quote in the opening. “Flimflammers!” Yes! Brilliant poem!
I stopped at “strut earth’s stony stage” and the literary melded with the geological – what a powerful line and I really value the final use of verbs – directs, bow, exit…to the final singular words. Powerful with one of the most challenging prompts (for me) so far.
I just finished Isabel Wilkerson’s Caste, and perhaps that is why I am riveted by your words “Stories bodies masked” – the false truths we follow generation after generation, too many willing and ignorant understudies. Love your phrasing, your way with words:
and also
and basically every word!
Glenda — Powerhouse poem! Oh baby, you really have found the words that haunt and the motif of the theater…”flimflammers strut[ting the] stage”… oh yeah. I think the most haunting is the “revival troupe/mounts new rostrums”… just more of the darkness. The poem is packed with images that bear our sussing out the implications of this grim scene. Whew! Thank you. Susie
Sorry for this “downer” but I was affected by yesterday’s CORONA-19 statistics. Tests have begun to insure the safety of vaccinations for those under 16 years
yet the new and highly contagious variant seems to be the one spreading rapidly to our youth. When I go out in public, I see it is these little ones that are unmasked. Susan
We Wear Our Masks
We wear our masks
yet our children don’t.
“Their risk not so extreme.”
Oh boy, what a dream!
This virus has turned to them.
Now as we get our vaccinations
and think of our summer vacations
we wear our masks with dedication.
Yet our children don’t.
This virus has turned to them.
This mask brings relief, I thought.
Especially now that I have my shot.
But the children are not protected.
They have not been injected.
This virus has turned to them.
As schools reopen
(churches, theaters too)
we smile, but oh great Christ, our cries
hidden behind the masks
and hoping we will arise.
But our young ones are not masked.
This virus has turned to them.
Susan, the repetition of “this virus has turned to them” is a weighted reminder of where we are (and will likely be for quite some time). You wove Dunbar’s words into your own with just the right touch.
So scary and so true. We can’t assume our youth will be OK. I like your use of repetition and the way the mask represents a false sense of security.
Susan, your poem flows well from Glenda’s about the models. And, your reflects the added responsibility of adults to insist that children wear the masks” too. We, as a country, have lost about 10% of our elders to COVID! If we’re not careful we may loose a comparable percentage of our progeny.
Thanks for the head’s up!
Susan,
What you see as “a downer,” I see as realism. These things must be said. The virus is spreading among young people, and their parents will face a reckoning for their cavalier denial.
Your repetition of “the virus has turned to them” throughout the poem highlights the dire situation. You’ve captured this moment in time well, and it’s a good thing people are looking out for others.
The virus has turned to them. Chilling. Chilling.
Susan — Your poem echoes my own concerns. Know that you are not alone in the worry. Your poem really resonates with a voice of worry and concern — the heart is here and I thank you for it! Susie
Susan, this is reality and it’s frightening. I am appalled when I see young children (of mask-wearing ages) out with friends as if they’re safe. School opens in 2 weeks. I am terrified. Thank you for sharing the truth.
I decided to use the pantoum generator to help me with today’s poem. I love this tool because it allows the writer to rearrange lines without having to worry about the form. If anyone ever wants to try the generator, here’s the link. http://jacobjans.com/pantoum.html?fbclid=IwAR1n8E1dh9ON4s7sdmslY-u5cm2Uz_9d-v7F0BKm20D2s8U-AevhYL00FH4
Masked in Marriage
With torn and bleeding heart, I smiled
Masked in the privileges of marriage
Burying broken dreams in deception
Displaying children like trophies
Masked in the privileges of marriage
Appearance of protection
Displaying children like trophies
Tethered in torture
Appearance of protection
With torn and bleeding heart, I smiled
Tethered in torture
Burying broken dreams in deception
©Stacey L. Joy, April 5, 2021
(If anyone is suffering in an abusive relationship, please seek help!)
?
Thank you for writing this. This needs to be shared.
Wow! The pantoum form lends such meaning to this content, the repetition in the poem mirroring the relationship. Glad it’s in past tense. “With torn and bleeding heart, I smiled”, “Tethered in torture” and “displaying children like trophies” stick out to me most and make me want to cry. Thanks for sharing and also the pantoum generator, Stacey.
Stacey, the rearrangement of lines reminds me that no matter how many times we reshuffle for appearances, the truth stays the same. These lines really struck me: “displaying children like trophies” and “burying broken dreams in deception.” There are so many who have that mask on, who continue with the appearance. Powerful.
Stacey,
Your poem makes me think about what we learn about ourselves when we escape an abusive relationship. There’s clarity here in your words, and you, my friend, are a witness and an example for those among us. Thank you for using your gifts to speak these truths: “Appearance of protection.” Some relationships are all a facade.
Stacey, wow, this poem is heart-wrenching. The lines:
is especially visceral and brutally honest. I can feel the pain radiating in this poem. How often we say we are okay while smiling, while we’re completely tortured inside. Magnificent poem! Thanks for sharing your truths today! Hugs!
Thank you, Stacey, the repetition of the pantoum is perfect for your poem. Thank you for sharing the pantoum generator.
Holy cow, Stacey — the repetition of the “appearance”…that masking that happens in the mess of a sideways marriage…dang! This is powerful, and you really laid out a mask that waaaay too many people wear. I could go on and on here, but the poem does that, it lifts the mask! Whoof! That strong voice is screaming here! I’m sending you hugs. Susie
Stacey,
Thanks for sharing the pantoum generator link. The theme of your poem seems perfect for this form – that sense of going in circles or being caught in a cycle, unable to let go of or be released from the lines, the thoughts, that seem to torment us.
//david
On my seventeenth birthday
I was given a mask
It came with instructions:
“You need to wear this,
If you want them to
Get off your back!”
It was such a useful device
“You are so funny, ask your friends”
She would say
“I’m proud of you, you’ll do great”
He would say
…suckers!
But there were moments
When my mask slid off
Uncovering
Uncertain eyes
Quivering mouth
I could inhale fresh relief
And you came along
Together we tore
Away with my mask
Forever it’s gone!
There is no vulnerability
Only me for you to see.
What a great ending for this poem, Eric 🙂
Eric, this poem hits me to my core. I think my son would really relate to this. He often felt like he was forced to be what he wasn’t meant to be.
Thankful beyond words for the ending!
“Away with my mask
Forever it’s gone!”
Bravo!!!
Eric, this is so powerful. “Uncovering / Uncertain eyes / Quivering mouth / I could inhale fresh relief.”
What joy to have the mask slip and experience inhaling that fresh relief. (Such a beautiful image!) Really great poem today.
Eric, your poem reminds me of the scene in BLACK BOY by Richard Wright, when his mother sends him back out into the street and warned not to come home till he’s victorious! Can you imagine the masks he wore the next times out?
So glad to read your closing lines, where, with the help of a well-wisher you trust,
Together we tore
Away with my mask
Forever it’s gone!
Eric,
Two things stand out to me in your poem: parents teach and sometimes force their children to mask who they are; a healthy relationship gifts us authenticity.
Eric,
I enjoyed your poem. I find it sad that many feel they are forced to hide behind a mask, even sadder when the mask is forced on them by a parent.
Happy that mask is torn off and gone away forever.
Eric,
I love a narrative poem, and the direct address/apostrophe make me wonder about your intended audience here. This line is visceral to me: “Together we tore/Away with my mask” and this offers me this sense that the speaker had a mask that the listener did not. And I wonder further about how this moment of togetherness came to be and what we all need in our lives in order to “away with” our masks. So provocative!
Sarah
Sarah, I wrote this with my wife, Erin, as my intended audience. She continues to inspire me.
Anna,
What a phenomenal inspiration with such a dual meaning right now. Your ideas for working it into instruction are so helpful.
The Masks We Wear
All year long
we wear the mask
mumbles muffled
smiles sequestered
bored or engaged?
hard to tell
When we typically see
the entire face
(in the normal world),
The eyes tend to draw the most attention.
They are the windows to the soul.
I always thought I was an “eye person”
until masks.
Now I realize how much
the mouth and the teeth
and the expression–
the smile,
the pout,
the smirk,
the grin,
the flat affect
the open gape
factor in to
the interaction.
Eyes only tell the story so well.
When we finally see someone
unmasked
or in a picture
the remaining
part of the face
that we haven’t been
focused on for months is . . .
surprising.
And so much more
telling.
I’m looking forward to
being back when
the masks we wear
stop covering the
masks we wear.
~Susan Ahlbrand
5 April 2021
A wonderful poem, Susan.
This is my favorite.
Oh, Susan and Angie! I echo Angie’s marvel at these concluding lines but also at the ones leading us to this moment. I love all the images of our mouths and the shapes they make, too. I am smiling now as I type and thinking of you doing the same back! Love it.
Susan, Oh my gosh, I love your end! It is kind of crazy to realize how difficult it is to even recognize people at times because of the masks. Loved how you focused the opening on the eyes and then catalogued the various expressions people shared. Very insightful poem! Loved it!
So much truth in this poem! I thought I was an eye person too, until recently! Oh how we need mouth expressions. I love your last few lines too – even if people still wear the “masks,” that hide their true feelings, at least we can see the lies instead of nothing at all!
Susan,
This is a fascinating commentary or reflection on pandemic life. An the irony of the last stanza is spot-on. As I’ve been reading some of our poems today, I’ve been thinking about Anna’s advice to use some of Dunbar’s lines is a form of sampling, which is a way of both honoring and reviving our ancestors (as it is for hip-hop musicians).
//david
Good morning, my friend! I’m so excited about your prompt today. I am such a huge lover of We Wear the Mask and Dunbar’s writing. I admire how well you bring all that we are suffering and surviving in your poem. The flow, your rhymes, word choices, PERFECTION! I am in love with these lines:
I’m off spring break now, so I will attempt my drafting before class begins and hopefully I can post mid morning. Otherwise, the day won’t be forgiving enough for poetry writing after work. I get my second dose of Moderna today too so keep me in prayer for no ill effects.
Love you and your poem!
?
Woot! I”m hoping that second vaccine has not bothered you and that you get a good rest tonight. You’ve done it! 2 for 2!
Stacey — let us know how you are faring tonight if you can. Hope those side effects are minimal. Hugs, Susie
So far so good, it’s only been 3 hours since the injection. I’ll definitely check in tomorrow morning! Thanks Susie and Linda!?
Belonging in family Liliaceae,
my being reproduces in seeds
uttered in silent strokes
though I guard it with vibrant
petals, a fortress
folding from ovarian heart,
covering pistils of powder,
holding stigma in darkness–
I shutter anthers in storms,
opening only to solitude,
the light
allowing me to be,
sharing the parts I protect,
the ideas waiting for pollinators
to transfer, fertilize, make anew
in their silent strokes of verse.
*inspired by the “mask” of tulip petals
Sarah, I love this imagery today – so many lines speak to me “my being reproduces in seeds, opening only to solitude, ideas waiting for pollinators.” You have revealed the inner beauty, recognized the silent verse, allowed us in to the un-petaling. It’s a combination of so many favorites.
Sarah, this flower blooming, opening to the world, protecting as a fortress – and my favorite part:
the light
allowing me to be
The life-giving magic of light that illuminates truth and allows us to be is radiant and glowing here in your words today. Beautiful springtime in this Easter season, seeing this lily stand and open its arms and then to know the metaphor – and to think of this group, the seeds, the protection, the blooming and growing as writers, the place where we can be! Thank you a million times for all you give us here!
What wonderful imagery, Sarah. I especially love “opening only to solitude” – very representative of mask-waering.
Goodnesssssss this is pure joy for my soul and my senses this morning! How on earth do you find your inspiration? I would love to be a fly on your mind’s wall!
This is something to savor all day:
Sarah,
There’s a layered sensuality in these beautiful images of a tulip, my favorite flower. But I also think about female forms in general as well as Georgia O’Keefe’s flower paintings. The lines
These remind me how a mother longs to protect her “seeds uttered in silent strokes.”
Wow! What an incredible take on this prompt. Such a private moment for the tulip…and yet we all love to gawk at them.
Sarah — I love how this poem forces me to slow down and to be the slo-mo camera that watches the slow, “silent” movements… the anticipation of a flower awaiting the bees. Beautiful images…”shutter anthers in storms”… “fortress folding from ovarian heart”… so sensual…you can only get that if you hold this poem slowly in your palms and let it unfold like the petals opening a tulip. Wow! Really something, this poem! And the whole act is poetry. Dandy! Thank you! Susie
I am ready to give the virus the heave-ho. Thanks for this prompt. I wrote a Golden Shovel.
Slowly as a chick breaks the surface of its egg, But
leaves behind its shell we let
go of the binding virus, the
choke hold on the world
and now dream
of a new way to live. Otherwise,
afraid to believe, we
shake our arms that wear
a vaccine scar, and slip loops around the
ears and smile behind our mask!
Ayyye I can get behind the heave-ho! What an optimistic poem!!!! Love it. Especially “now dream/of a new way to live”. I really like “slip loops” and “smile behind our mask”. I miss seeing smiles when masks are worn. I say “I’m smiling” a lot.
Margaret, I absolutely love how this Golden Shovel works for your message – from
The line you chose to the way you wrapped it in truth! That chick’s beak is like the arrival of springtime in a new, clean and fresh world. I, too, am ready to give the virus the heave-ho! It needs to go!
that “slip loops around the ears and smile behind the mask” is such a sensory experience. We’ve all had it…and we are all so tired of it! Yes, let’s dream of a new way to live.
Love this poem, Anna. I’ve never looked at it through the lens of a character from a text though, so thank you for sharing this idea. I’ve been thinking a lot about Crooks from Of Mice and Men and one of the deepest lines I’ve ever read: “It was difficult for Crooks to conceal his pleasure with anger.” I was inspired by Kim mentioning she thought of doing a Golden Shovel, so I did like a double one, with Crooks on my mind.
We do it.
Wear the mask that hides
the truth. Our
masks hide cheeks
that are violently red or painfully blue and
grins that don’t deserve anyone but us; the shades
and patterns of how we feel are concealed by our
lies and falsified eyes.
Angie, “Our masks hide cheeks that are violently red or painfully blue” – so sad that it pares down to that separation. And those last two lines! Well-done.
Angie, you did an incredible job of writing a double Golden Shovel! That’s definitely a challenge and you did the poem such justice. I love it. For some reason, the opening hits and warns me, pulling me right in where you lay the truth out in so few lines. Beautiful!
Powerhouse ending!
Anna, masks have become so much a part of what we are that my brain struggled to separate them from Covid while reading the Dunbar poem. It was good to think of them in other ways. Thank you, also, for the many classroom suggestions. I love that there are so many ways to incorporate poetry for students. I decided to use only words from Dunbar’s writing today, while thinking about those in power who do harm.
We wear the lies,
torn,
bleeding,
mouth myriad subtleties.
The counting of tears
from tortured souls
hides our guile,
masks our grins.
Let them dream otherwise,
shade their eyes,
while we smile
and wear the lies.
Jennifer, the way you’ve changed up some of his words is great. Splitting up torn and bleeding in their own lines and “wear the lies” has become an incredibly deep line. I understand it’s necessary sometimes in certain company. We have to know when to not wear the lies though. It’s difficult.
Oh! Thank you for allowing me to imagine alternate interpretations of these words. I feel the need to explain that this was intended to speak of those who abuse their power and not those who are forced to wear masks.
My bad – I see your explanation and am now rereading it 🙁 How interesting to write from that perspective! Yes, totally different interpretation. “Wear the lies” still profound, but I think “masks our grins” in this context even more so. Thanks.
Powerful found poem.
Oh, what a topic for mask-wearers–those in power who do harm. Your words are biting and speak truth, and to hear it in first person like that, as they acknowledge “we smile and wear the lies” is so powerful. Thank you, Jennifer.
Jennifer,
“We wear the lies” certainly speaks to what we observe in our political sphere these days.
“wear the lies.” That line is sharp and good.
Good morning, Anna! I always look forward to your prompts and inspirations and poems! This one especially is timely and deserves our reflection! Thank you for hosting us today.
I went back and forth between an Etheree and a Golden Shovel form – I decided on an Etheree
– ten lines with that number of syllables in each line. I wrote mine in descending order, using borrowed lines with some rearrangement of words.
Tortured Souls
Our cries to thee from tortured souls arise,
Christ, we smile, but oh, great Christ our cries!
We sing with torn and bleeding hearts,
Beneath our feet, long the mile!
Let them only see us
while we wear the mask.
It hides our cheeks,
Shades our eyes,
Masks the
Dream.
Kim, I’m always amazed when writers work with a form and their poem reads so naturally that the form falls from the forefront and becomes the framework beneath the gilding. Your words do that today. I become lost in them without thinking of the form, and yet, they work beautifully within it.
Kim, thank you for giving me the idea of trying a Golden Shovel! I never think to use a particular form to write. Your etheree does justice to Dunbar’s poem. I love how you decided to invert it and the ending is profound. Thank you.
I like how the shape of this poem looks like the mask.
Phenomenal!!! I love the Etheree form for this in reverse too! You have chosen the perfect words and images this morning. This is what resonated with me:
What beautiful word play here, Kim. Dunbar’s words have taken on new meaning and beauty in the way you have arranged them. “Masks the dream” Wowza!
Kim,
The mournful tone here sings like a dirge as well as a confessional:
This is why private prayer matters so much more than public displays.
Wow! This is stunning. Even though the syllable count keeps dropping there is rythmn.
Anna,
Thank you so very much for this reflection to being day 5 of this glorious celebration of poetry. Masks have taken on new meaning for me and much of the world this past year though there are people who have known and depended on literal and figurative masks prior to COVID. How you use apostrophe or direct address in this poem to confront the virus and vaccine is fierce, which carries the next line when the speaker addresses readers to “get busy and do your task.” In your poem and in Dunbar’s there is a societal tension driving the need for masks– this struck me, too. I am pondering this, too.
Peace,
Sarah
Anna, thank you for such a rich prompt. Your response poem is stunning. I love how it echoes the tone of Dunbar seemingly effortlessly. The Skinny form appealed to me today.
We wear the mask
with
compassion
responsibility
care
With
science
saving
lives
with
the mask we wear
Linda, the word responsibility stands out, as does care and saving lives. I also love that you used the word science! The skinny form is perfect here because while care, saving lives, and responsibility are all but skinny, the facts boil down to a skinny truth of science: we must mask to save lives. This is perfect for these times!
Linda, taking the same four words and shifting them subtly for first and last lines allows us to read them, feel them, think them differently, taking our action and allowing it to become the subject. Skinnies enable us to focus on words – and yours are wonderfully selected (compassion, responsibility, care).
Linda, I love this simple poem – the straightforwardness of it works well and I love the rhyme of care and wear and wearing the “with science”. Very nice.
The skinny form worked well for this poem. Love “science saving lives”.
Amen, Linda! Perfect! Thank you! Susie
Anna, Thank you for waking us up on this Monday morning with a deeper purpose. I appreciate the double-meaning of mask in your poem and the seamless rhyme. I took a few elements from your process to draft my poem below (including a piece of Dunbar’s poem in quotes).
why wear a mask,
you ask?
“human guile” can’t grasp my mental
state, they want to think I’m well
even when isolation and traumatic strain
causes an ongoing persecution of my brain
don’t talk, just cycle through your cognitive
detours, only chat about generic relative
ideas that we all experience, find
it’s better to pretend you have a perfect mind
and since you ask
that’s why I must mask
I love the rhythm in this poem…the little bit of syncopated sass. “just cycle through your” “and since you ask.” This poem has a great tone.
Stefani,
First, I am struck by the lower case letters, the symmetry this creates for the eye moving across and down the page that invites me to breathe as I read. I appreciate how Dunbar and Mrs. Anna J. Small Roseboro have welcomed rhyme in our verse today. It creates a tone of contrasts here – the topic serious and the rhyme whimsical. I need a word for this — maybe irony. But what will stay with me today, Stefani, is the “pretend to have a perfect mind” — as this is my struggle. Thank you for articulating it here.
Peace,
Sarah
Stefani, your words ring so true – especially this part that resonates with me so strongly today:
they want to think I’m well
even when isolation and traumatic strain
causes an ongoing persecution of my brain
For all the wellness of controlled contagion, when the mind is not well it is a whole other strain. I often wonder about the ripple effects that Covid will have in years to come, and I hear those same echoes of question in your words today.
Stefani, two things strike me most about your words today: the rhyming that occurs without sounding forced and the use of enjambment. I echo Linda’s response about the “syncopated sass” in your piece.
Wow, Stefani! Amazing. “Ongoing persecution of my brain/don’t talk, just cycle through your cognitive detours” are the lines that move me most. I love that you’ve given an answer to a question in the form of a poem.
Love it Stefani, thank you for sharing!