Tone is the writer’s attitude toward the subject, the mood created by all the elements in the poem. Writing, like speech, can be characterized as serious or light, sad or happy, private or public, angry or affectionate, bitter or nostalgic, or by any other attitudes and feelings that human beings experience. In Jarrell’s “The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner,” the tone is clearly serious; the voice in the poem even sounds dead. Listen again to the persona’s final words: “When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.” The brutal, restrained matter-of-factness of this line is effective because the reader is called on to supply the appropriate anger and despair — a strategy that makes those emotions all the more convincing.
Consider how tone is used to convey meaning in the next poem, inspired by the poet’s contemplation of mortality.
It was like soul-kissing, the way the words
filled my mouth as Mrs. Purdy read from her desk.
All the other kids zoned an hour ahead to 3:15,
but Mrs. Purdy and I wandered lonely as clouds borne
by a breeze off Mount Parnassus. She must have seen
the darkest eyes in the room brim: The next day
she gave me a poem she’d chosen especially for me
to read to the all except for me white class.
She smiled when she told me to read it, smiled harder,
said oh yes I could. She smiled harder and harder
until I stood and opened my mouth to banjo playing
darkies, pickaninnies, disses and dats. When I finished
my classmates stared at the floor. We walked silent
to the buses, awed by the power of words.
The next work is a dramatic monologue, a type of poem in which a character — the speaker — addresses a silent audience in such a way as to reveal unintentionally some aspect of his or her temperament or personality. What tone is created by Machan’s use of a persona?
last night
im cleanin out my
howard johnsons ladies room
when all of a sudden
up pops this frog
musta come from the sewer
swimmin aroun an tryin ta
climb up the sida the bowl
so i goes ta flushm down
but sohelpmegod he starts talkin
bout a golden ball
an how i can be a princess
me a princess
well my mouth drops
all the way to the floor
an he says
kiss me just kiss me
once on the nose
well i screams
ya little green pervert
an i hitsm with my mop
an has ta flush
the toilet down three times
me
a princess
Chelsea, Massachusetts
Christmas, 1987
The apparition of a salsa band
gleaming in the Liberty Loan
pawnshop window:
Golden trumpet,
silver trombone,
congas, maracas, tambourine,
all with price tags dangling
like the city morgue ticket
on a dead man’s toe.
“As a poet and a reader, I am most interested in the theme of justice. I am interested in poems that address justice vividly, concretely, specifically. Poets are, as Shelley put it, the ‘unacknowledged legislators of the world.’ We shouldn’t leave justice to the lawyers and the politicians.”
— MARTÍN ESPADA
With favour and fortune fastidiously1 blest,
He’s loud in his laugh and he’s coarse in his Jest;
Of favour and fortune unmerited vain,
A sharper in trifles, a dupe in the main.
Achieving of nothing, still promising wonders,
By dint of experience improving in Blunders;
Oppressing true merit, exalting the base,
And selling his Country to purchase his peace.
A Jobber of Stocks by retailing false news,
A prater at Court in the Stile of the Stews;
Of Virtue and worth by profession a giber,
Of Juries and senates the bully and briber.
Tho’ I name not the wretch you know who I mean,
T’is the Cur dog of Britain and spaniel of Spain.
1 proudly