Welcome. All are welcome to participate in the 5-day Open Write — from one day to all days, depending on your schedule. There are no set rules for the length of a poem, and you are free to modify or reject the prompts as you wish, allowing you to write whatever is on your mind or in your heart. We firmly believe that the best writing instructors are actual writers, and this platform offers a supportive environment for you to nurture your writing journey. Just scroll down to share your poem in the comment section. For more information about the Open Writes click here.
Our Host: Linda Mitchell
Linda lives in Virginia where she is a middle school teacher-librarian. Being a school librarian frees her from the day-to-day grind of the classroom but also presents challenges in building relationships with students who in her school are mostly of the global majority. Her favorite way of connecting with students is through creative learning stations. Linda also enjoys camaraderie with other school librarians via professional development at the local, state and national level. She is president of her local chapter of the American Association of School Librarians. She has found teaching through and after the pandemic challenging in all kinds of ways. She believes fostering opportunities for creativity is an important path forward toward student motivation, well being and, authentic learning.
Linda keeps a writing habit of publishing weekly to the Poetry Friday blogosphere. It keeps her writing and reading (blogs of others) habits healthy. Find her at: A Word Edgewise.
Inspiration
Anxiety seems to be the word of our century so far. Students suffer from it, their caretakers suffer from it and quite honestly, most educators I know these days have bouts on a regular basis. The pressures that life puts upon us and that we put upon ourselves seem to multiply throughout the school year.
There are some classic worries behind anxiety – a familiar one is the question of, am I good enough? This worry can be paralyzing for students.
One way to build student confidence is to lean on existing creative works. Take lines from classic or new poems and mix them up in an interesting way. This takes pressure off having to think up the words by oneself. And, it’s fun! The more disparate the original works, the better.
Today’s poem is a cento which is defined as, a literary work made up of quotations from other works. But, I find that the term mash-up is more kid friendly.
Process
Think of a poem or rhyme from your childhood. It could be a jump rope chant and cheer from old-school athletics or a nursery rhyme. Now, delve into some serious poetry from published poets. If you choose a work published from 1933 you now don’t have to worry about copyright!
Sources of published poems:
Read both works. Find lines that speak to each other. Take a line from one poem and mash it up against one from the other. See how many lines compliment each other as a new work. Write these lines, or copy and paste these lines, into a new work.
I hope that today’s writing frees you from the pressure of having to think of something new and allows you some creative fun.
Linda’s Poem
Sources:
A Visit from St. Nicholas by Clement C. Moore.
When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer by Walt Whitman.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
What a fun prompt! Thank you!!!
I liked the jump rope rhyme “Miss Mary Mack” when I was younger. About 30 years later, I picked up jumping rope with a primary goal of fitness, and a potential goal of competing.
I’ve been reading a book that uses a stanza of Elizabeth Bishop’s “One Art” poem at the beginning of each part of the book. And this poem has spoken to me many times before because of the loss of items, cities, and people in ways I didn’t expect, but have helped me to be a master in the art of losing.
So, I used the rhyme “Miss Mary Mack” and the poem “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop
Mash Up – February 2024
With silver buttons, buttons, buttons
the art of losing isn’t hard to master.
For 50 cents, cents, cents
three loved houses went. And, vaster
they reached the sky, sky, sky
but it wasn’t a disaster.
Till the 4th of July July July.
I used just one verse from Ring Around the Rosies because there are so many versions and differences. I then found The Sky Keeps Surprises by Ahmad Almallah that was published last year and made a poem that I think relates to lots of moments of our history that are dark and awful, but I liked this prompt because it makes us think and connect to things that are happening or have happened and how different poems and things from different eras can connect across time.
Ring around the rosie,
the wound is bleeding into white.
A pocket full of posies,
across the eye, across its view.
Ashes! Ashes!
by the end of this road
by the beginning of a faraway
flame.
does anybody see?
We all fall down
invisible and invincible
there among the buildings
and windows
all above my head.
I could be seen
a fool
and I am.
Source material:
Ring Around the Rosie
The Sky Keeps Surprises by Ahmad Almallah
Oh!!!! I really like how you mashed this together. “Ring around the rosie / the wound is bleeding into white” have imagery that fit so well together.
Linda, I’ve had Cento on my poetry to do list a while, so thank you for your poem. Your poem is brilliant. I think I felt a bit intimidated after reading it. Anyway, I mashed up The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe with The World Is Too Much With Us by William Wordsworth. I’m sure folks have heard Trump is now selling shoes. Of course I want my poem to read as an indictment of him, but I’m not sure that’s clear. I have work to do on it.
Too Much Old Woman
The world is
an old woman
getting and spending
in a shoe.
She had so
many powers—
We lay waste
her children
late and soon.
Little we see
in a shoe
what to do.
We have given
our hearts,
put them to bed.
What to do moves
us not without
any bread.
At all hours
we are out of
tune, a creed
for everything.
She didn’t know
what to do.
Glenda Funk
Oh, Glenda, I’m glad you told the motivation for your poem. I may not have known had you not told us, but you are on the way there with the emotions evoked in the reading. It is poignant and powerful. You poem makes me think of powerless and financially-struggling people who may buy those shoes with all their false promises.
Powerful:
Come,
let us roam the night together.
Singing.
A song that sounded blue.
Moon is shining.
Night sky is blue.
’Round midnight came a band of neighbors.
Stars are great drops.
Of golden dew.
When we got home, my daddy cheered.
Source material:
”Harlem Night Song” by Langston Hughes
”Jazz Jive Jam” celebrating Langston Hughes by Kramer Alexander
Linda, thank you for the fun prompt. Personally, I find writing Centos to be very challenging. For this poem, I chose to honor Black History Month. My source material was found in two collections of poetry — Hip Hop Speaks to Children edited by Nikki Giovanni and Out of Wonder: Poems Celebrating Poets by Kwame Alexander with Chris Colderley and Marjory Wentworth. I started with a Langston Hughes poem and mashed it with a celebratory poem. This was a fun project.
Jennifer, this is lovely. So many beautiful images and sounds. “Stars are great drops. / Of golden dew.” And the thought of children playing and singing around the neighborhood and “When we got home, my daddy cheered,” I think it makes the whole sound like a celebration.
Jennifer, the firm was too challenging for me today, but you really rose to the challenge! Your poem reads seamlessly. I really like a song that sounded blue.
Linda, what an accessible prompt for making a “mash up.” I like the idea of calling it that instead of a cento. I didn’t take a familiar rhyme, but a William Blake poem “The Garden of Love” and “If I Must Die” by poet Refaat Alarer, who was killed in an airstrike in Gaza in December.
I went to the Garden of Love
To tell my story
‘Thou shalt not’ writ over the door
A child, somewhere in Gaza
I saw the Garden was filled with graves
Awaiting his dad who left in a blaze
And tomb-stones where flowers should be
If I must die
And binding with briars, my joys and desires
Let it be a tale
To tell my story
Denise—wow. I have read these words three times already, and their power does not lessen.
Denise,
this is so poignant. Thank you for creating and sharing. I’ll be thinking about this sad tale for a while.
Denise, this is heartbreaking to think that poet killed in Gaza had written this predicting his death. I melds nicely with Blake. You have let it be a tale to tell the story.
I don’t know what to say. This is so powerful.
Denise,
I love both those poems and have read If I Must Die several times in recent weeks. I follow a Palestinian on Threads and have appreciated his wisdom about events prior to and since October 7. So much suffering on both sides. So much innocence and guilt on both sides. I wish leaders thought more about the future instead of being mired in a past that in terms of current suffering doesn’t matter. Anyway, good choices and excellent mashup.
What fun, Linda, to take a classic poem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing” by James Weldon Johnson, that originally was sung by kids during an Abraham Lincoln celebration, and mashing it with a silly poem of my own almost felt disrespectful. But, I did it anyway because I believe a college teacher who also wrote for children, would understand. I also think students of all ages will find this an exciting way to connect their work with that of a published poet they like or are required to study.
Lift every voice and sing,
But I don’t know the tune,
Till earth and heaven ring,
I’ll look like a buffoon.
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
I’m all for liberty,
Let our rejoicing rise
But I don’t want all them folks laughing at me.
High as the list’ning skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
What dark past? We ain’t learnt nothing bad about this country,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
I got lots of hope cause my mother got a good job lined up for me,
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Facing the sun? Oh, singing outside will be fun!
Let us march on till victory is won.
Ok. I’ll sing along if singing with me can help us run.,
Anna, this conversation between a child and James Weldon Johnson is so powerful. These lines speak volumes in these days:
Anna, I can hear the voices of the children and their lack of knowledge of the past. Yes, we, as teachers need to march on telling the stories of our past, hope and our nation.
Those children’s voices ring so true to me, Anna. So well done!
Mashed Up
By Mo Daley 2/18/24
We are a musical medley, though sometimes discordant
a jumble of coins in a jar
we are an unravelling patchwork quilt, but one that still keeps you warm
a collection, dutifully taken up before communion
we are a confusion of wildebeests, searching for green pastures
a mixed-bag of medical miracles
we are an assemblage of clowns, ready to entertain
a hodgepodge of hope and love
we are a mash up of mom and dad
siblings
Mo, what a beautiful poem about your siblings. I love the words of imperfection “discordant” “jumble” “unravelling” “confusion” and others–but then the words: warm, communion, medical miracles, hope and love are so beautiful. Such a perfect picture of you and your sweet siblings that love.
Mo, this is a wonderful interpretation of today’s prompt. What a fun way to share about you and your siblings.
Linda, what an interesting prompt. I love finding poems and playing with words. My poem is a combo of William Carlos Williams and Roses Are Red although I wasn’t able to get the rhyme sound involved. It’s a message about the importance of life.
Manure
so much depends
upon
red roses rain
glazed
violets so blue
beside
a white chicken
coop
Barb Edler
18 February 2024
Barb, you know how I like to rhyme. When I read your closing line, I thought of our prompt yesterday where we closed the poem with a synonym or antonym of our opening word. You know what word came to MY mind.
Thanks for making me chuckle as I read the way you literary used the WCWms’ poem to show how something “stinky” can nurture flowers with pleasing aromas.
Barb, you’re singing my farm songs –
full of WCW and rain and chickens! Oh, yes! That manure is like gold in the garden,
like an earth vitamin that’ll bring dead flowers raging back in full color. Beautiful!
Barb, I love your mash-up. The imagery of “red roses rain/glazed” is beautiful. Your words make me picture a rose with raindrops gently posed on petals. WCW’s poetry is perfect for this.
Barb, what a lovely combination of inspirations. “red roses rain / glazed” is just so beautiful.
Barb, this is great! I’m with Denise: I love the sound of the stanza “red roses rain / glazed.” Thank you for writing this!
Barb,
Im having a why didn’t I think of that moment. I like the changes you made to WCW’s poem. It’s such a dandy for challenges like this.
Thank you for presenting the cento in this way, Linda. Somehow, it felt more manageable than I had previously imagined – perhaps because you encourage us to start with something from childhood. In my case, I chose the fight song from my alma mater, Georgetown, and decided to create a mash-up with a love poem. For that, I chose “Meeting at Night” by Robert Browning.
I gain the cove with pushing prow,
‘Ere the sun has sunk to rest.
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
In the clouds will proudly float.
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
It’s been so long since last we met.
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch –
How crimson lines could hold us –
And a voice less loud, thro’ its joys and fears,
Is never at a loss.
Now, two hearts beating each to each
Lie down forever, lie down.
Amanda — Beautiful mash up, especially these last two lines:
Now, two hearts beating each to each
Lie down forever, lie down.
Amanda, what a beautiful poem. Your imagery and sensory appeal is striking, and I love the repetition at the end. “How crimson lines could hold us_” What a powerful line!
Amanda, you have chosen well. These lines go together so nicely. I really like:
“And a voice less loud, thro’ its joys and fears,
Is never at a loss.”
Hi Linda,
Thank you for hosting and inspiring me today. Your poem is magical! I’m in awe.
This was both fun and challenging. I chose “Down, down baby…” from my childhood memory of hand-clap songs and paired it with the poem, “My Grandmother’s Love Letters” by Hart Crane, 1920.
Forever Love
Down down baby,
down by the roller coaster
in the loose girdle of soft rain
Grandma, sick in bed
There are no stars tonight
But those of memory
I’ll never let you go
Lead my grandmother by the hand
rhythm of the feet
“Sweet, sweet baby,
Are your fingers long enough
to carry back the music?
Is the silence strong enough?”
Steps must be gentle
Let’s get the rhythm
to melt as snow
I’ll never let you go.
©Stacey L. Joy, 2/18/24
Stacey, I really appreciate the juxtaposition of a rhyme that is deeply familiar to me (Down down baby) and a poem I didn’t know before. I notice how at first the rhythm of the clapping rhyme demands my attention and then, as the mash-up continues the rhythm of Crane’s poem asserts itself – until, at the end, I had to pause to be sure that “I’ll never let you go” wasn’t part of the poem. Wow.
Stacey, wow, you’ve captured such a powerful connection between imagery and sound. Love “in the loose girdle of soft rain” and “Steps must be gentle” Really poignant feel to this poem. Love your ending.
Stacey others have commented on the literary devices you’ve used to create this tribute to your grandmother. The emotion of love comes through with the soft sounds you’ve chosen. Lots of assonance and soft consonants make the poem flow smoothly from your memory to evoke memories of ours about family and friends we love and now miss.
Wow, with the playful lines from “Down, Down Baby” added to lines like “in the loose girdle of soft rain” and “Is the silence strong enough?” makes this really beautiful. I enjoyed reading “My Grandmother’s Love Letters” (and the old “Down, Down Baby” rhyme too. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of it.)
Thank you for providing me with a new way to look at writing a poem. I selected my daughter’s favorite rhyme from when she was young “The Lady with the Alligator Purse” and combined it with the first verse of London Rain Louis MacNeice.
The rain of London pimples
Stains the canals of night
Miss Susie had a baby
His name was Tiny Tim
And the neon lamps of London
She put him in the bathtub to see if he could swim.
And the park becomes a jungle
Miss Susie calls the doctor
in the alchemy of night.
Cathy,
I really like the mash up of these two pieces. Upon my first reading, I came away with a thought provoking juxtaposition between the sing song nursery rhyme and dismal London. Then I decided to read “London Rain” in its entirety because I wasn’t familiar with it and googled the history of “The Lady with the Alligator Purse” because I figured I was missing some hidden meaning. According to Wikipedia, the Alligator purse is a reference to Susan B Anthony and Women’s Suffrage. After reading more about the nursery rhyme and reading your poem again, it packed even more of a punch as it felt very reflective of the current political climate. Especially, your last stanza: And the park becomes a jungle/Miss Susie calls the doctor/in the alchemy of the night.
Thank you for sharing all the research you did. I learned something new about that childhood rhyme.
Cathy, I really appreciate how you formatted this poem. It flows beautifully and exudes powerful sounds and images from “the canals of night ” to “park becomes a jungle”. I especially enjoyed “neon lamps of London” and your final line. Gorgeous poem.
Thank you Linda for hosting today. This is something I would love to introduce to my team teachers at my school. Your mashed lines of
“He spoke not a word but went straight to his work
in the mystical moist-night air, and from time to time
giving a nod
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars” reminded me of the importance of silence. So many times we rush around in this chaotic world, when we know our best selves work in silence. The alliteration of “The mystical moist-night air” coupled with the intriguing sight it brings. I see shades of blues with streaks of gray and black dancing in the night. Such powerful imagery. Thank you for sharing!
My mashup came from the nursery rhyme “Hush, Little Baby” and the poem, (https://allnurseryrhymes.com/hush-little-baby/) and “Caged Bird” by Maya Angelou (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48989/caged-bird )
Sing Free Bird
A free bird leaps.
Hush, little Baby, don’t say a word
and dares to claim the sky.
And if that mockingbird don’t sing
his bars of rage,
Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.
The caged bird sings,
and if that looking glass gets broke
with a fearful trill,
Mama’s gonna buy you a billy goat
and his tune is heard.
You’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town.
and he names the sky his own.
Oh, Jessica . . . these two juxtapose so nicely!
Thank you Susan! I am quite pleased with what was developed.
Jessica,
Love the way you have transformed “Hush Little, Baby”. The pairing is so powerful. I was especially drawn to these lines: And if that mockingbird don’t sing/his bars of rage.
Thank you so much Tammi. I was impressed when I found those lines. It’s definitely powerful!
Jessica, wow, I love how you blended these two verses. Your opening line is so compelling and loved “his bars of rage”. Powerful poem!
Thank you so much Barb. I hope to do this more often than a moment a month. It’s very therapeutic and tickles my brain.
Jessica, how beautiful! It seems as if they were meant to be mashed up!
Thank you Stacey Joy! I’ll always call you by your first and last name because your name is so powerful and full of truth! And thank you. I love how it all came together.
Beautiful pairing!! I especially love this last two lines…and he names the sky his own…
Thank you Gail! I’m glad I discovered this poem.
Linda, I never knew this was what a cento was! I think this would really resonate with my students!
I had fun with this one!
The Kiss of Power
For your seventh birthday, you asked for a shade
of lipstick so dangerous your mother blessed
herself
I goggle at the looking glass,
It was the color of hell, no, of a tamer kind of Lucifer.
Kid elbows out like I’m in class,
observing mamma click and twist
her lipstick case with soft cream
wrist–
painted gingerly on her puckered mouth. Sometimes
I puff in perfumed powder pots–
you wanted to be mysterious, praised. Practiced
as mamma’s strands of sprinkles
chink
on your forearm. Stone-faced and regal. Imagined
a wet jelly bean for big red lips…
the red you know will one day suit your lips
just right
while getting yourself ready to leave this whole town in
ashes
from “Colorete” by Eduardo Martinez-Leyva and
“Watching Mamma Apply Lipstick” by Sara Patricia Kelly
Julie, what a magical poem. I love the way you open this one and your title is perfect. I am going to have to look up these two pieces. Love the end “while getting yourself ready to leave this whole town in/ashes” …..such power and beauty.
I need to check out both of these poems. There is a courage to them. And that last line!!
Linda, this was so much fun, and your mash-up worked beautifully!
I pulled my lines from:
–”The Octoroon”
By Georgia Douglas Johnson
And
“Armies in the Fire”
From A Child’s Garden of Verse
By Robert Louis Stevenson
One drop of midnight –
the lamps now glitter down the street.
In the dawn of life’s pulsating stream,
faintly sound the falling feet,
marks her an alien from her kind
and the blue even slowly falls,
a shade amid its gleam,
about the garden trees and walls.
Forevermore her step she bends
now in the falling of the gloom:
insular, strange, apart.
The red fire paints the empty room
and none can read the riddle –
and warmly on the roof it looks
of her strangely warring heart
(and flickers on the backs of books).
The stormy current of her blood –
armies march by tower and spire –
beats like a mighty sea
of cities blazing, in the fire
against the man-wrought iron bars –
Til, as I gaze with staring eyes
of her captivity,
the armies fade, the lustre dies.
For refuge, succor, peace, and rest
then, once again, the glow returns.
She seeks that humble fold;
(again the phantom city burns)
whose every breath is kindliness
and down the red-hot valley, lo!
Whose hearts are purest gold
The phantom armies marching, go!
Blinking embers, tell me true:
Where are those armies marching to?
And what the burning city is
That crumbles in your furnaces?
Wow! “The stormy current of her blood, armies march…” The lines meld so beautifully.
Wendy,
I really enjoyed reading the shifts to and from italics and the musical quality that this brought just in the shape and slant of those words. Lovely.
Sarah
It is remarkable how these two sources “mash up” – I am imagining “she” (perhaps awake in the dark of night?) is struggling with all these whirling “phantom armies” within herself – ‘Where are those armies marching to?” Absolutely captivating poem; I’ve read it several times now.
A mash up of the children’s song “Mr. Golden Sun” and
Emily Dickinson’s “We grow accustomed to the Dark”
Oh Mister Sun, Sun, Mister Golden Sun
When Light is put away –
Hiding behind the tree
The Bravest – grope a little –
Oh Mister Sun, Sun, Mister Golden Sun
When not a Moon disclose a sign
Please shine down on me
This little child is asking you
Oh, I really enjoyed the direct address throughout this with the Oh Mister…just felt so intimate and personal within and then like I was witnessing an encounter as a reader. “This little child is asking you” — wow, what a closing line.
Sarah
Your last line really stood out to me and for me changed the tone of the poem. I like your choice of separating that line.
Contrasting the sun with the dark works so well.
Maureen, I love how you formatted this poem. The repetition adds such a powerful emotional pull. I can feel that need “Please shine down on me” and then separating “This little child is asking you” I think really adds power.
I adore this so much, Maureen! I felt like the little girl in me was sitting on a rug listening to a perfect poem!
Maureen- this feels like a conversation that I am a part of! Thank you for letting me in! And the last line is magic…
Maureen, what a beautiful pairing. I too like how you set that last line apart from the others.
A “mish-mash” poem
from a nursury rhyme and “The Night Mail” by W. H. Auden
This is the night mail crossing the Border,
The wheels on the bus go round and round
Letters for the rich, letters for the poor,
The wheels on the bus go round and round
All through the town.
The wipers on the bus go “Swish, swish, swish,
Birds turn their heads as she approaches,
stare from bushes as
The horn on the bus goes “Beep, beep, beep”
All through the town.
In the farm she passes no one wakes,
But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes.
The wheels on the bus go round and round
All through the town.
Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from girl and boy,
The wipers on the bus go “Swish, swish, swish,
All through the town.
Thousands are still asleep,
But shall wake soon and hope for letters,
As the horn on the bus goes “Beep, beep, beep.”
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
This was great fun, a new technique and a bit of a challenge. Thanks Linda.
Oh, that final closing line is stunning: “For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?” This question mark is at once inviting an answer and rhetorical.
Sarah
“Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from girl and boy,” – how fun to marry W.H. Auden with Wheels on the bus!
Oh I could visualize the bus driving through those different locations of town. What a wonderful combination of these two poems.
Susan, I almost did “The Wheels on the Bus”, but I changed my mind. Your poem is a journey on a bus. Each stop to pass out the letters. My favorite stanza is
“Thousands are still asleep,
But shall wake soon and hope for letters,
As the horn on the bus goes “Beep, beep, beep.”
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten? ”
Who doesn’t like getting mail? Unless it’s a bill….
Thank you for sharing Susan.
Susan, what fun. I had never read “Night Mail” before. I really enjoyed reading the whole poem. I like the beeping of the bus at the end waking all to the hope for letters. Lovely last line in Auden’s and your poem.
Linda,
This is such fun, but oh so challenging. I think I could create so many versions.
This is a mash-up of “We Wear the Mask” by Paul Laurence Dunbar (in bold) and the song “The Stranger” by Billy Joel (in italics).
The Stranger Wears the Mask
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
But we disregard the danger.
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
They’re the faces of the stranger
This debt we pay to human guile;
Well, we all have a face
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
When everyone has gone.
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
Though we share so many secrets
In counting all our tears and sighs?
There are some we never tell
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
You’ve done it, why can’t someone else?
To thee from tortured souls arise.
You should know by now
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
Everyone goes south
Every now and then
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
~Susan Ahlbrand
18 February 2024
Susan, this was terrific! Fascinating to read and see how well they worked with each other, each breathing new life into the other!
Susan,
The bold and italics weaving back and forth or threaded through offers just the form to follow the content of the mask going on and off throughout. Clever.
Sarah
So well-done, Susan! These breath together, in and out of each other.
Susan, you have melded these two sources so beautifully…I especially like,
Susan, I was struck by your first stanza!
“We wear the mask that grins and lies,
But we disregard the danger.
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
They’re the faces of the stranger”
So many times, I feel like that stranger, escaping from my “true” self. Thank you for sharing.
Wow! Just… wow! I’m impressed with how these two work together, both echoing & adding to the other lines. I especially liked the way this stanza came together:
Why should the world be over-wise,
Though we share so many secrets
In counting all our tears and sighs?
There are some we never tell
Susan! We Wear the Mask is one of my favorites and you made marvelous mash with the song lyrics!
Perfection!
Linda – TOO FUN! I felt the humorous suspense building in these familiar, intertwined lines. The opening sentence of your inspiration paragraph – about anxiety being the word of the century so far – really spoke to me. I’ve been paying attention to just how anxious people are…then I thought about aging. An earworm from childhood came back back back and so I went with rewriting the chant vs. lines from two works… here goes:
Tips from Miss Mary: Staying Young
(a clapping game)
Gray hairies… ACK! ACK! ACK!
Let’s dye them black black black
No silver shimmer shimmer shimmer
Better come back back back
Don’t ask another ‘nother ‘nother
If it makes sense sense sense
Girl, goop it on good good good
Wait a bit and rinse rinse rinse
When asked your age age age
Don’t gotta rage rage rage
Just bat them eyes eyes eyes
And honey lie lie lie
LOL! “Just bat them eyes eyes eyes / And honey lie lie lie.” This was a lot of fun, Fran! It reminded me of last year (or maybe it’s been longer, now) when my wife was teaching me the “Say, say, oh playmate” clapping game from her youth (as a Girl Scout). Though I was a grown man (and fairly coordinated), I can honestly say that I’m slightly embarrassed at how long it took me to pick this game up. 🙂
Haha, I just ran through that whole song in my head — haven’t thought of it in years.
Haha! The imagery in this, esp that last stanza, was too funny. The repetition made it, and the juxtaposition of the childhood rhyme with…well, let’s face it, old age. Loved it! XD
Fran,
I really like that parenthetical in the title and then that first line that feels like at once a clap and a hack with the rhythm of a duo hand slapping I can also read this as a commentary. Poetry really can be an argument, right. The tone is cheeky here but also makes me think about the messages of nursery rhymes and childhood games that constructed ideas in our impressionable minds.
Peace,
Sarah
What wonderful play with Miss Mary Mack! A play for the ages, lol.
Fran, during my brainstorming, I almost chose to write about Miss Mary, but mine wouldn’t do justice with the mashup you chose. It’s very comical, and I hope as I age I let my gray take over! I don’t want any goop to hide my wisdom streaks. I love the last stanza about lying about my age. I honestly will not lie, it just takes me time to remember how old I am. Math is hard, lol. Thank you for this!
I honestly hope no one thinks I am encouraging lying (never!) but the rhyme was too fun to not use… forgetting one’s age, now, that’s an honest mistake!
Fran, what fun with this childhood earworm
classic! (I have a cut and color appointment Tuesday after my hairdresser’s long maternity leave, so don’t think I haven’t been tempted to lie lie lie about these gray hairies ack ack ack! Thank you for the knowing and the secret laugh!
Oh you did it again! This is truly wonderful! Thanks for making me smile!
Fran— this works so well! It took me back to summer camp, then boomeranged me back to my old age! 🤣
Linda – I love this idea a lot. I’ve used with my elementary students and it helps them play with poetry and not be afraid of it. I mashed up Langston Hughes and Sara Teasdale.
Soft Rain Song
Let the rain kiss you.
with silver liquid drops.
soft rains and the smell of the ground,
calling with their shimmering sound
And I love the rain.
Robins wear their feathery fire
And Spring herself, she woke at dawn,
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.
a little sleep-song on our roof at night –
And I love the rain.
(Found in “April Rain Song” by Langston Hughes and
“There Will Com Soft Rains” by Sara Teasdale)
Stunningly beautiful, Joanne – and so you! Even if borrowed, you knit these together masterfully. I love the sweet images, the pools, the repetition of “And I love the rain.” So lyrical and satisfying – like a soft rain itself. I need a little sleep-song right now.
You wove these together so well! Loved the gently spring imagery of this!
Oh, I this refrain is so soothing. “And I love the rain.” I love how the stanzas feel observational and the speaker is sharing some wishes for the reader, but then there is this reflection of self and a willingness to share.
Sarah
Your combination of these two poems evokes a sense of calm. For me, especially this line ” a little sleep-song on our roof at night.”
A beautiful combination. I like “The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk. a little sleep-song on our roof at night” because that sums up what I love about the rain.
What an incredible mash up, Joanne. I love that active opening and the sensory appeal in throughout the poem. Loved “silver liquid drops” “a little sleep-son” and “feathery fire”. Glorious poem full of soothing sounds and “wetness”.
Leave-taking
cento based on Jane Kenyon’s “Walking Alone in Late Winter”
and Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon
How long the winter has lasted.
In the field the grasses are matted and gray.
In the great green room,
there was a telephone and a red balloon.
Ice on the pond breaks into huge planes.
The reeds along the shore gleam with ice that shatters.
And a picture of the cow jumping over the moon,
and a little toy house.
From beyond the bog,
the sound of water rushing over trees.
And a quiet old lady was whispering “hush.”
The wind is keen coming over the ice.
Goodnight room.
Goodnight moon.
And the sun, bright but not warm.
Goodnight nobody.
Goodnight little house.
Chill, or the fear of chill.
Goodnight stars.
Goodnight air.
Cindy, my two-year-old granddaughter adores Goodnight Moon. I love your title and its connection to this contemplation of winter’s long grasp, soon to be released, at last. Just lovely.
Love the way that onomatopoeia flowed through this — beautiful.
Cindy,
This is a song. I know we have some musicians in this group. I’d love to hear this put to music — though of course your words need no accompaniment. The goodnight refrain does that, and it speaks to mean on a number of levels of memories, grief, endings and maybe even beginnings though the final line feels like a forever ending.
Sarah
Using Goodnight Moon is just perfect and then you chose a perfect complement to use with it!
Nicely paired, Cindy. I love how the images parallel and contrast. Poignant, sad ending. I like how the title informs the tone of the mash up.
Thanks for creating and sharing.
What a fun exercise! I really pored over many poems to find a fit that worked for me. This would be great for reluctant writers of any age!
“Friends” by Abbie Farwell Brown
I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud by William Wordsworth (stanza 4)
“How good to lie a little while
For oft, when on my couch I lie
And look up through the tree!
In vacant or in pensive mood,
The Sky is like a kind big smile
Bent sweetly over me.” […]
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
“So many gentle Friends are near
Whom one can scarcely see,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
A child should never feel a fear,
Wherever he may be.”
Heidi, what a picture this painted! Loved the last stanza, especially, so plaintive considering the gentle imagery that preceded it. <3
Heidi,
Thank you for your mash-up today. I am struck by your poem visually with the bold and the quotes and the ellipses and the brackets. All these marks speak, help with meaning-making. I am holding onto the “should” and with some of my own anger and frustration trying to imagine and hope for “never feel a fear”!
Peace,
Sarah
Heidi,
I want to make a billboard of these lines
and pay to have it appear on every highway in the world!
I love the mashup between eighteenth century English romantic poetry and nineteenth century American children’s poetry. The pairing works perfectly. I especially like the couplet “And look up through the tree!/In vacant or in pensive mood.” Thank you for introducing me to Abbie Farwell Brown.
There once was a man from Nantucket
A penniless beggar with nary a ducat
Whose name was Ozymandias, King of Kings,
And once commandeered vast treasures and bling
But now only commanded a solitary, sand-filled bucket.
_________________________________________________
Thanks for your mentor poem and your prompt today, Linda! This would definitely be a fun and engaging prompt in the classroom! For my offering today, I tried a mash-up between the man from Nantucket limerick and “Ozymandias” from Percy Bysshe Shelley. Apologies to both, lol.
The inclusion of Ozymandias in a limerick made me laugh! And laughter, can be a very good thing with students.
Ha! What was that line from Hamlet, about how a king progresses through the belly of a sand bucket? Oh, wait — nevermind.
Scott,
Fun limerick to work into this mash-up today. I love all the allusions and had fun looking up a few.
Sarah
Only Scott would cleverly meld that classic limerick start with Ozymandias. Love the “sand-filled bucket.”
Oh, this is clever – and funny. Poor Ozymandias – little did he know he’d end up in a cento limerick.
Scott,
🤣🤣🤣 Way to dump Ozymandias off his pedestal yet again. I picture you round that relic wearing your Burger King crown. Good job! 😂😂😂
This is such a great prompt. I want to noodle with this for weeks and use it with my students!
Here is my Biblical mash-up. (The prophet, Isaiah meets with King David’s Psalms)
Who would set briers and thorns against me in battle
Broken in pieces
Yet he shall be for a sanctuary
When they cast their leaves
The sycamores are cut down but we will change them into cedars
For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease
Stretching out of wings shall fill the breath of the land
Mount up like the lifting up of smoke
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
Water out of wells
Stones of stumbling
The Bricks are fallen down
People be as the fuel of fire
Yet surely goodness and mercy shall follow me.
Beautiful! Isaiah and David do Mash-Up together nicely. Each stanza is visual and sings to me.
Emily, wow, you’ve captured such intriguing Biblical verses to create your poem. I love the action in your second to last stanza and the line “People be as the fuel of fire”….followed by such a familiar quote. Fantastic poem!
No worries at all. Thank you for, Sarah, for providing this space for creativity and community.
Linda–I have never done a mash-up before and I love it! Your two selections complement each other so beautifully in language and style. The contrast between fantasy and science is powerful. Thank you!
Options
(Good Bones, BY MAGGIE SMITH)
Now I lay me down to sleep
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
Keep me safe through the night
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children.
And wake me with the morning light
I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones:
If I should die before…
No! Stop there.
We have enough to be afraid of.
This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
Gayle Sands
2/18/24
Ohh this is good. So many options to choose from. I love how you put the nursery rhyme in italics. Would be interesting to mash up parts of “Kids Who Die” and either poem that you picked.
I could read this over and over! I love how you put a familiar prayer between Maggie Smith’s poem that is so raw and real- the beauty and the sadness in this world. It makes me hopeful.
Oh my gosh, Gayle – your poem cuts to the core. So true – unfortunately!
Absolutely love the ‘fright’, the angst, woven with that familiar prayer – and the hopefulness of that ending –
As if Maggie Smith’s poem isn’t already powerful enough! Your choice to add in a childhood prayer adds a new take and a different depth. I especially love how you interrupt the line “If I should die before” then let Smith’s last two lines take prominence.
Gayle, I love the juxtaposition here! With your “No! Stop there,” the end of Maggie Smith’s poem is a bit more hopeful it seems. (I tend to read the original as if she’s unsure and trying to convince herself with the repetition.) Thanks for this!
Wow, Gayle, I am reading so many powerful poems today, including “Good Bones” by Maggie Smith. Thank you for this. I like the two lines you added in bold, and then the last two lines to finish with some hope.
Linda, thank you for sharing a mashup prompt with us today. I just googled poems for kids and “Twinkle, Twinkle” was one of the first to pop up. And I had just looked back at Hughes’ “Kids Who Die” earlier today while lesson planning. Would take me a lot longer to think of the “best” pick and order of lines.
This is for the kids who die,
Twinkle twinkle little star.
How I wonder what you are.
Black and white,
Up above the world so high.
For kids will die certainly.
Like a diamond in the sky.
The old and rich will live on awhile,
Eating blood and gold,
Letting kids die.
A song that reaches the sky—
Twinkle twinkle little star.
As always,
How I wonder what you are.
This is so sad! But then the little star makes me hopeful. It reminds me of this Inuit proverb: “Perhaps they are not stars in the sky, but rather openings where our loved ones shine down to let us know they are happy.”
You’re right, Angie. This pairs so well with my selections. The same mood… how I wonder…
Angie, your contrast between the lovely twinkle, twinkle for the kids who die and the old and rich eating blood and gold is startling. The poem speaks of such beautiful innocence in the young and the greed that we “grown-ups” carry.
Oh, Angie, I just read Hughes’ “Kids Who Die.” Oh, I’m becoming undone with the power of so many poems today. Wow, your pairing with “Twinkle, Twinkle” is spot on here.
Kid Trip
Lady and Jelly Spoons,
The cow jumped over the moon.
We are little teapots,
with a puppy named Spot.
Listen, as Pete blows his horn,
Calling Mary’s lamb out the corn.
Ouch! Stomped my Piggie toe,
On a brick the Wolf couldn’t blow!
We finally made it to Red Hood,
Cause Grandma’s train chooed “ We Could!”
Let’s throw the cradle at the cat,
so we can sit where we sat.
And yell Baa Baa Black!
before we turn around and head back.
On a bus round and round,
so we can return Jack his crown.
Blind mice will dance and mosie,
as we sing Ring around the Rosie.
Then we all can take a walk,
and gaze upon the giant bean stalk.
And before our final farewell,
we will rescue a wife from a pumpkin shell.
So, good night to all of you,
I adjourn to the big shoe.
Absolutely love this! You turned the prompt inside out and upside down. Such fun.
“Blind mice will dance and mosie,
as we sing Ring around the Rosie.”
These stood out to me as fitting, especially because it was not too long ago that I learned what that song was even about.
This poem is so much fun! The blind mice line really made me laugh. And the rescuing the wife from a pumpkin shell! So great!
We appreciate you and this space!
With rain on the West Coast and snow on the East Coast and everything in between, I have mashed up the words of Robert Louis Stevenson and Emily Dickinson.
The rain is raining all around,
It sifts from Leaden Sieves –
It falls on field and tree,
It powders all the Wood.
It rains on the umbrellas here,
It fills with Alabaster Wool
And on the ships at sea.
The Wrinkles of the Road –
This is so beautiful! And, two wonderful poets that I hope your students get to know in your mash-up. love the last two lines…ships at sea, wrinkles.
Katrina, I loved A Child’s Garden of Verses and was given this volume twice at Christmas as a child – – so the words of Stevenson are simply etched in the unforgettable places, and I love how you joined the lines of Robert and Emily to bring us the thinking on the rain and the snow. What lovely images!
Katrina, how absolutely lovely. The pairings sit within one another as if they were meant to be (and they are since you’ve created this!). Love!!
Katrina,
Thank you for this beautiful mash up. The two poems integrate so well. I like how you used the form to appreciate two nineteenth century poets. A family friend gave me A Children’s Garden of Verse when I was little and i remember reading Stephenson in there and having him read to me. Makes me want to find a copy of that book for rereading along with rereading some Dickinson.
Linda,
Thank you for the invitation to play with poetry and nursery rhymes. I wanted to do something with my favorite poet, Wislawa Symborska. Many of her poems felt a little too serious for this exercise, but I had fun mashing up her “Could Have” and Mother Goose’s “Humpty Dumpty Sat on a Wall”
Could Have Sat on a Wall
It could have happened
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
It had to happen
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
It happened earlier. Later.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Nearer. Farther off.
Couldn’t put Humpty together again
it happened, but not to you
Sharon, so many possibilities here with the metaphor of the fall and Humpty-Dumpty as a fill-in-the-blank game changer for all the scenarios that come to mind. I love how this works together with all the thinking it brings. Thanks for introducing us to Wislawa Symborska. I can’t wait to read some of her poems.
Wow! Look at that amazing mash-up of very serious questions with that old well-known nursery rhyme. I love it!
Oh! I love how this mashing played out, how it moved between nursery rhyme character to not being about me at all (and the strange relief? after that last line).
Omg how do those lines like fit perfectly together?? This will be in my head for a while. I have not heard of Symborska, thanks for sharing!!
Here’s a link to Wislawa Szymborska’s Could Have. I only mashed up
the beginning off her profound poem. So excited for those who commented that they are new to Szymborska. I love her wry wisdom.
Sharon, thank you for sharing the words of Wislawa Symborska. The imagery of Humpty Dumpty’s shattering makes even more poignant the unmentioned event in Symborska’s poem.
Sharon, I can’t stop reading all the beautiful poems shared today. “Could Have” is new to me too, so thank you for sharing the link. The first and last lines of your poems really cause one to contemplate the near misses.
A trip to Laredo is like breaking open the sky.
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man
Each long row of wheat meets the eye
Bake me a cake as fast as you can
before it sloughs into desert, where the occasional hawk,
Roll it, pat it
in a few concentric turns, identifies a weak movement.
and mark it with a B
I know this place. The place in between.
With lines borrowed from ‘Eating the Moon in Cotulla, TX’ by Analicia Sotelo
and Pat-A-Cake nursery rhyme
https://poets.org/poem/eating-moon-cotulla-tx
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pat-a-cake,_pat-a-cake,_baker%27s_man
Kevin, the feeling of space and place and movement is strong here in your lines. That hawk haunts the middle and leaves me watching the skies and all the places in between.
Wow! I’m klnda blown away by the combination of these two…”as fast as you can” and “before it sloughs into desert” has a real intensity. I’ll bet a student would really get this in a new way.
Kevin, what a beautiful pairing – as an aside, your words now call to mind blackbirds being baked in a pie.
Linda–
I really love this prompt and can’t wait to use it with my students. My poetry Friday lesson for this week is done. Thanks to your Linda. I used “Mending Wall” for my poem today.
Ring- around-a-rosies
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall
A pocketful of posies.
To please the yelping dogs
A tissue a tissue
we meet to walk the line
We all fall down
set the wall between us
The king has sent his daughter
keep the wall between us
To fetch a pail of water
another kind of out-door game
A tissue, a tissue
‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
We all fall down
walling in or walling out
The robin on the steeple
like an old-stone savage armed
Is singing to the people
moves in darkness
We all fall down
‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
Tammi, what a thought provoking mash-up. It’s interesting how those childhood poems and the ones we choose today seem to plug in, one to the other, so perfectly, like fingers intertwined in a hand hold. It makes me wonder, now, how many poems out there might fit seamlessly in new ways to make us think and reflect on the echoes of lines we’ve sung all these years.
Tammi, I’m reminded of barriers in both of these choices – the stay away of the plague and the fences separating our spaces. I’m not sure I would have thought of these without the placement of your lines. Such a fascinating result of this form.
Tammi, I love the sound you’ve created throughout your poem. I also appreciate all the action and connection to falling and walling people. I bet your students are going to love your Friday lesson and you’ll have a marvelous mentor poem to share with them.
Thank you for your gift of this space and its care of us.
Linda, I’ve fallen in love with the Mash-Up form. I will gnaw on these like a dog with a fresh bone, over in my corner, for days on end (thank goodness it’s winter break and I will have time to dive in to these more). Thank you so much for introducing us to these today. I took my favorite poet and favorite poem, Mary Oliver/ The Storm and perused a book my father gave me for Christmas, a vintage collection called Poetry’s Plea for Animals, by Frances E. Clarke. Lo and behold, I found a poem that could have inspired Oliver’s – it’s by T. A. Daly, entitled Da Pup Een Da Snow. Here is my mash-up, but it may need a phone turned sideways to see the formatting. Oliver is in bold/Daly is not.
Da Pup Een Da Snow Storm
Eef you jus’ coulda seen –
running here running there, excited
gona wild weeth delight
now through the white orchard my little dog
ees first play een da snow
with wild feet
all around’ da whole place
hardly able to stop, he leaps, he spins
an’ fall down on hees face
teel hees cover’ weeth white
until the white show is written upon
in large, exuberant letters
w’en he see da flakes sail
how he chasa hees tail
the pleasures of the body in this world
deed you evra see joy
gona wild weeth delight
with wild feet
mak’s heem crazy excite’
you would know w’at I mean
Eef you jus’ coulda seen –
Kim, what a perfect pairing! We are north to n Michigan visiting my parents and Shadow has been running loose through all of the snow. Your words capture her freedom and energy exactly! I pictured her in every line.
Isn’t that just amazing? I love how you bold Oliver’s words so we can see them twisted together with the other poet. Even the dialog works…don’t you think? I love it.
I CAN just see it all, Kim – and it’s a precious, hilarious scene! What gems of lines borrowed, and what masterful crafting! I love dialect even though it’s often discouraged – the spelling adds another layer of charm to the exuberance. -Love.
Kim, I can really see the dogs chasing throughout this poem. I love how you create such a visceral energy through your choice of words. Delightful poem full of sound and dog love.
Linda, what fun this was! A perfect prompt to take the stress away. I love your mish-mash between Santa and astronomers, who like so carefully juxtaposed yet so perfectly matched next to one another. I’ve borrowed from the first childhood song that popped into my head and today’s Poem of the Day (Movement Song)by Audre Lord.
Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack
I have studied the tight curls on the back of your neck
All dressed in black, black, black
we were always saying goodbye
With silver buttons, buttons, buttons
hang(ing) on the edge of beauty
All down her back, back, back
the sands have run out against us
She asked her mother, mother, mother
through mornings of wish and ripen
For 50 cents, cents, cents
your face in the evening schools of longing
To watch the elephants, elephants, elephants
in the last angel’s hand
Jump over the fence, fence, fence
moving away from me into tomorrows
They jumped so high, high, high
in opposite directions
They touched the sky, sky, sky
without goodbyes
And never came back, back, back
the keeper of secrets
Til the fourth of July, ly, ly
Jennifer,
I love your two choices for your mash-up. They really blend well together and the whole poem feels like a song.
Oh, Jennifer, these choices are perfect. I’m singing the song, song, song, and will be all day long, long, long, and loving these lines, lines, lines, they’re just so fine, fine, fine by a poetry friend, friend, friend, now on a cheerful note I will end, end, end. I love this!
Fascinating, what happens in a mashing of lines, isn’t it?
Kevin
Jennifer,
What a beautiful fit. Together they create such a lovely homage to girls at play. I like the dual sense of the present action from the song and the nostalgia from Lorde’s poem.
Wow! I’m blown away by how the “light” verse of Ms. Mary Mack sits next to “always saying goodbye, the keeper of secrets til the fourth of july.” It’s like it was supposed to always be this way.
Jennifer, your poem has such a rhythmic flow through the rhyming words being repeated. I truly love the ending lines “the keeper of secrets/Til the fourth of July,ly,ly” adds such a wonderful echo. Plus, there is something so compelling to consider. Like what happens after the Fourth? Is it going to have an explosive revelation? Very fun poem.
🤎🤎