With Halloween just around the corner, this week seems a great time to write about masks. Anyone who has dressed up for Halloween knows how transforming masks can be, how they provide a sense of escape, and how they offer a freeing quality that allows you to be someone other than yourself or, perhaps, who you really are.
In literature, the persona poem derives from a Greek word that means “mask” and is a poem in which the poet figuratively dons a mask and writes from the fictional “I” of another viewpoint. This prompt, however, goes in a different direction. For our poetic purposes this week, let’s consider the metaphorical masks we wear and why we wear them. (Remember: masks may be anything that disguises or conceals – physical disguises, facial expressions, attitudes, and behaviors).
Most people wear “comfort masks” at times as protection from judgments, to guard their real feelings from others, to gain social or business positions, and to generally feel safe (i.e., people in emotional pain may mask their distress with smiles, and unhappy children may wear the masks of class clowns or bullies). What masks have you worn?
Suggestions:
What metaphorical mask do you wear most often? What does it hide? Write a poem about this.
What “comfort mask” do you wear to guard your real feelings from others? Can you write about a time when you wore a “mask” for emotional protection?
How are you like the Phantom of the Opera? What emotional scars do you hide behind a figurative “Phantom” mask? Write a poem about this.
Write a poem about a time, place, social gathering or other situation in which you would have liked to wear an actual mask.
Write a poem about a memorable Halloween (read Catherine Doty’s “Living Room” from her book Momentum: Click Here and Scroll Down)
Write a poem about the best or scariest Halloween mask you’ve ever had or seen (your own or someone else’s).
A few examples for you to enjoy:
Happy Halloween!
The Mask of Many Faces
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There once was an ordinary man
who masqueraded as a clown.
Upon his sleeve, he wore but false emotion.
His countenance bespoke everything - and nothing.
Perpetual sadness ensconced within,
his face slipped on the mask of the occasion,
the personage for whom designed,
or of the time, perhaps –
or of the moment, so inclined.
So often having changed expression
he stood now perpetually expressionless.
The face his own, or a mask?
No one, not even he, could tell.
An endless fluidity of persona, ebb and flow.
Harmonized not with appearance.
Deceived as much by appearance -
as appearance deceived.
White the cosmetic through which he sought unveiling.
Unburden for once and for all
the role he played
for which the world accepted him.
White cream produced white heat instead
though no amount of flame could shear the crust which overlay –
Rawhide replace where once stood beauty,
Tenderness of touch,
Warmth of smile.
Invention upon invention!
Fiction now ruled
and sophistry imprisoned him.
A sorcerer’s fate for a simple man.
Now no more a child’s idol –
employed at Mardi Gras.
Grotesque false face of carnival.
Perjured soul.
Splendid thing – now lost.
Can fable save some touch of mediocrity
to mark the bounds of true complexion?
Perchance the tears of time
will wash away
what otherwise cannot be moved.
Ray Brown
http://raybrown.wordpress.com
Love the image for this week's prompt! Very cool!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Ray, for posting your poem! Interesting psychological components and an almost surreal quality that lends itself to the Halloween season.
ReplyDeleteThe Looking In
ReplyDeleteAnd this: afternoon's
slow breach into night,
the checkered tablecloth,
empty glass, my face
reflected in the window -
his face looking in
(stranger, other), our
faces like masks.
Just a few draft lines inspired by this prompt. I was sitting in a restaurant alone last night, well into my own thoughts when I looked up at the window to see my face reflected next to the face of a man outside, I was looking out , he was looking in. The experience was eerie, our faces like masks. I hope to work this into a poem. Thanks, Adele - this prompt is really interesting.
Jamie
Thanks, Jamie, for your comment and for the "draft" lines. Looks like you're off to a great start! I'd love to see the poem when it's completed.
ReplyDeleteWhew! This one is a real challenge!
ReplyDeleteLove the ideas ... working ... working ...
In Fall
ReplyDelete“See how nature – trees, flowers, grass – grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence...” Mother Teresa.
Tell yourself, as leaves
cover lawns, block
gutters, crumble and
crack beneath feet, that
trees hide secrets, too.
In silence obscured by
wind, fortified by sun,
coddled by clouds, notice
the maple’s smile, the pine’s
pride, the oak’s confidence.
Step closer. See yourself—
a wanderer among masked
men, explorer without a
mission, doctor with stethoscope
in search of a heart.
Remove lost pet posters tacked
to trunks. Catch a few acorns.
Chat with trees you’ve ignored
or underestimated. Then, lose your
way. Watch the stars move, and wait
for whatever happens.
Copyright © 2010 by Wendy Rosenberg. All rights reserved.
Thanks for sharing your poem, Wendy. Great imagery, a touch of Surrealism, and a "wow" ending.
ReplyDeleteThank you Adele
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