Mask Poems - Poems about Mask

Mask by Adejola Joseph Mask Where does it come from? What? Delusive rationality! Are we out of mind? Senses drained and dried? No! What do you capitalized on? Neutral ambition? Stop writhing in pain It halts not the rod Good ambition...lofty ideas But...sees no sun Because it's all masked! It's all choked... Brutally masked; Dreamer ponders Where do we go? So much confusionist now on this solidity and compound mass! Pitifully roaming the streets and...

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She does not love you. She loves what you give her— And when that gift fades, so too does her affection. The modern man, deluded by poets and preachers, Believes that love is salvation. No— Love is slavery wrapped in perfume. She smiles when you provide, Cries when you delay, Withholds warmth to bend your spine. And you— Grateful for her cold embrace— Call it passion. You sign...

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We Wear The Mask by Paul Laurence Dunbar After poem by Olabosoye Wemimo Olaoluwa Love of our land's labour should make us proud; The efforts, time, and energy put through... Well enough to place our pride clear as vowed. But we wear the mask of pain we don't plowed, When slavery is to labourers in blue... Love of our land's labour...

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She comes not with love, but with the scent of forgotten gods— lilac laced with sorrow, laughter hiding the abyss. Her eyes do not see you, they scan— for cracks in your crown, for wounds you wear like medals. She knows you long to be seen— so she becomes the mirror. Reflects your power, until it is hers. She offers no war, only surrender. No blade, only velvet ropes of...

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When I see the darkness, I see the Qliphoth, Each shadow mirrors the fire I’ve crossed. A soul forged where mercy is lost— I rise from Hell with no fear of cost. They say I walk with devils and flame, That I’ve chosen a path of whispers and shame. ...

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They say boys don’t cry. They say it like a promise. Like strength is stitched in our skin at birth and weakness is something you have to unzip your chest to find. I was eight when I learned that sadness had a gender. That girls get tissues, and boys get told to “tough it out.” That scraped knees get band-aids, but broken hearts? Those just get...

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Black without a mask What would it look like to be black without a mask? Would it look like freedom? Or would they laugh? At our attempt to be ourselves To feel like we can tell the world That we are fighting back That we are tired of being attacked That we are human and you should respect that Maybe it would feel like...

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I give love — to my enemies, not for their salvation, but to tame the chasms within me. The angel of death sneers when vanity bewitches me and whispers that its intoxications are eternal. I am sequestered, in a body scarred by the blades of a tragic fate, etched in letters of steel on the parchment of chaos. I walk — heart burdened by hereditary sorrows, the poisoned...

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Take Off The Mask Running from pain? Hiding from a ruthless society? What have we become? An outcast Always offended Take of the mask Be your own man Set yourself free Don’t be molded by hate Don’t follow the crowd Walk on your own road Just be you Don’t need many friends You can’t...

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Thickened and scarred, my mask bears the burden of time, Torn, stained, this tough shell silently unravels, And yet, somehow, it continues to keep me alive, to protect me from the world, It was never a shining armor, just my mask, Trying to compensate for all that I could not be. Sensitivity and tenderness were sacrificed on the altar of...

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I am a dare-dreamer, a mask wearer a soul bare-r (but not always my own); a word-weaver. I pull at thoughts like strings. Strings of cobwebs and cirrus, frayed dungarees and threadbare memories until I warp and weft strings of thoughts into poems. Sometimes I get caught in my own knots— I cut myself loose of those naughty strings. I...

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based on the song-tears of a clown by Iron Maiden --------------------------------------------------------------------- afraid people will see your truth so you lived wearing a mask a mask to protect you from all the worlds ...

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"Poetry is important to the writer but I feel it is all about the reader." By Poet Today as I open up my computer what will I see, a contest looking back at me? As I read the rules I must decide is this one for me, or will it haunt me if I turn it away? No mask needed...

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They say our names like they belong, like a chorus in some love song. They smile, they tease, they swear they know— but they don’t feel the weight below. I laugh, I play, I wear the mask, pretend it’s fine, don’t dare to ask. But in the quiet, late at night, my heart still flickers, dim but bright. You stand so close, yet...

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In the halcyon hush of twilight meadows, a clown carves laughter from hydrangea elixir, his smile — a fuchsia epitaph, hidden behind a dazzling white glow. Sparkling countless orbs drift from his broken pockets, ghosts grow wishes in splotchy shade, each sangria song he sings splinters against the opalescent...

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