Photo by Lynda Lehmann
______________________
My cloak, my concealer!
Enshroud my insecurities.
Protect the pretense which I put on.
Shield my face in your appearance,
that none may know my true affection.
What man should dare say
how another must spend his day?
false face of camouflage
shield me from criticism
within my clique of confidants
cover me in your facade.
To each and all his very own,
but be careful of what is sown.
haloed hood, hide me amongst
the masquerade known as society.
disguise my sins with your visor,
as a fig leaf for Eveandadam.
For all fall short of perfection,
upon the more meticulous inspection.
Let none pose a threat
to the veil which screens
my semblance to Judah
as I hide in my air of invulnerability.
dangle freely from the tree
with hideous grin of hypocrisy.
Show me a semblance
of the price to be paid.
Will it be an apple, or a life,
forty pieces of silver, or my soul?
Trust is that which when earned
Does not heat when it is burned.
Am I so blind? False colors
cover-up that which is true.
That all are in disguise for fear
of posture and the pretext
that some are more worthy.
No stone is thrown as I stand fast,
awaiting judgement for my past.
Raise the curtain, tear down the wall,
ruin my own disguisement.
Not as a pariah with nothing to lose
but as a man, just a man, nothing more.
What ever has a man to fear,
but to have none other near.
Dance with me as we sing free,
Laugh as we love unconditionally.
~ Stu Pidasso
Wow... what incredible writing for this prompt. I was in awe of every offering. The emotions and feelings and imagery was so very strong. Bravo to all who offered their creativity here.
One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.
16 comments:
Oddly, I put the following on my poems blog this morning:
Parallel Worlds
In Austria, there was a fella
Who kept his daughter in a cellar,
He raped her every now and then
Until the family grew to ten.
A film was found of him at play
In bathers, down beside the bay
The tabloids, bless their heads of straw
Arose with one collective roar:
“How can a monster be having fun
At the beach, out in the sun?
How can he sleep, how can he laugh,
When he’s done such dreadful stuff?”
The truth is really quick to tell
We all run our lives in parallel
There is the ‘us’ the public sees
And then the rest, behind the scenes.
There is the priest, whom God employs,
Who lusts at night for choir boys.
Or the quiet guy on committees,
Who has two wives in different cities.
And the account who, with such skill,
Balances books while fingering the till.
And, as strange as this may sound,
I’m told that Hitler loved his hound.
The other side is sometimes brighter
The daytime clerk: a night-time writer.
The housewife who delivers meals
And the traffic warden who rescues seals.
When you meet with someone new
Stop and think a moment or two.
It’s easy to take the single perspective
When, in fact, they are a collective.
Formated version
(Thank you for this prompt. My hobby is to create masks from plaster. While creating one a few days back I had a strange realization and I wish to share it with you, so here it goes...)
I can not tell for sure who wears a "mask" in his/her everyday life. Because these kind of masks are invisible to the naked eye...they are not sparkly and colourful, with fake tears and smiles on them.
However, what I can tell you is this. I think I know who doesn't wear a "mask"...an actor. Because his mask is vissible and true.
If you have the good fortune of coming across a real, great actor in action then there is this...I think that to be able to present another person's truth on stage, one needs to be twice as honest and truthful. Thus, a good actor never tells a lie...just somebody else's truth.
As for the mask...it is there, more colourful and sparkly than ever, only to remind us that if we believe the 'lie' and cry...it will only be for a moment, till we leave the theater and get back to the real world. The world were the "masks" are actually...real.
In the lives of five people who sit at the morning breakfast each day masks are worn. Casey who hides behind the pain of the childhood he did not have with his mother, Silvia who has suffered the loss of her mother and the silence that screams so loudly from her daughter that witnessed a man inflict pain on her for three years, Estelle keeping secrets from her niece and the child that bears the burden of dream knowledge, a young boy Sam who is destined to become a leader on a reservation he takes away from the sister whom he does not know exists, the small child they call, Little Savage who knows all their secrets and can see that it will sort itself out down a hard road of love and forgiveness, and the passion for the love of a dog named Gun will bring it all to light one day...
behind the mask
real person
blood and flesh
feelings and wisdom
Did you see him?
Passing by this morning...
The mask hides my face and my pain.
I don't make eye contact because you can read what I feel.
I am ugly though I have been told I am not. I can do and be anything I want they say. It is in me to see myself the way they do. But I can't, I hide behind this mask, I can't look at myself the way they do. Are they crazy? I am not the person they say I am. Dare I take off this mask? Is there a possibility that I am wrong? I want to see what they see in me. I look at myself with my mask in the mirror, I gently pull it off. What reflects back is someone I did not even know existed. I can now smile and face the day in a totally different way.
Reveler, take the mask
Hold it to your face
And join the Masque
at the well of souls
Forget the past
and delay tomorrow
It is tonight that
Matters all
Cling to it for the nonce
Only a little peek allowed behind
Because masks have purpose:
To shield our Truth from others
In one of my favourite books there's a wise man saying that we're all dancers hiding behind a mask. Only when the music stops we get confused and drop our masks.
I think this is the best description I've ever read on how people act in day to day life and I just wish I had been the one to write it.....
As for my own view on masks:
I think we all need a mask from time to time, if only to be able to do or say things we can't when we're being ourselves.
Being a photographer I use masks each day. Photoshop uses a tool they call a mask. It hides part of the picture you don't want others to see...it hides the flaws and unfocused realities. It blocks the person who is trying to interact with the picture from enjoying the true picture. With time and a lot of work, you can delete part of the mask very slowly to reveal the true image. Once the mask is unveiled, the true essence of the picture takes shape. Even in our work, we use masks to hide behind for fear of letting the world see our true self.
Dan
Is my writing persona just another mask to hide behind, like the lace and velvet on a Friday night?
My cloak, my concealer!
Enshroud my insecuritites.
Protect the pretense which I put on.
Shield my face in your appearance,
that none may know my true affection.
What man should dare say
how another must spend his day?
false face of camouflage
shield me from criticisim
within my clique of confidants
cover me in your facade.
To each and all his very own,
but becareful of what is sown.
haloed hood, hide me amongst
the masquerade known as society.
disguise my sins with your visor,
as a fig leaf for Eveandadam.
For all fall short of perfection,
upon the more meticulous inspection.
Let none pose a threat
to the veil which screens
my semblence to Judah
as I hide in my air of invulnerability.
dangle freely from the tree
with hideous grin of hypocrisy.
Show me a semblance
of the price to be paid.
Will it be an apple, or a life,
forty pieces of silver, or my soul?
Trust is that which when earned
Does not heat when it is burned.
Am I so blind? False colors
cover-up that which is true.
That all are in disguise for fear
of posture and the pretext
that some are more worthy.
No stone is thrown as I stand fast,
awaiting judgement for my past.
Raise the curtain, tear down the wall,
ruin my own disguisement.
Not as a pariah with nothing to lose
but as a man, just a man, nothing more.
What ever has a man to fear,
but to have none other near.
Dance with me as we sing free,
Laugh as we love unconditionally.
Stu Pidasso
27Jan2009
Masks of Illusion ~ Dark Poetry
Evenfall slithers forth unwillingly
and slumber has bereft me yet again
which path of treason shall befall me this night?
violating my mortal senses for darkness is an enemy
whilst naked shadows apprehend this soul with glee
pandemonium harkens my bedroom door
oh what for, oh, what for?
alas, I hear sullen symphonies, calling tranquilly
to join their lurid promenade across ebon shade
this will is naught my own to seek yet I'm disinclined
hence I know this ghastly tune all too well,
the macabre serenades of hell; unveil its dire melody
forthwith it is revealed what truth bestows upon me
thy hand is dealt, for I adorn the masks of mortal ware
ah, it's all there; sadness, anger, happiness, confusion
'fore this body a mere illusion~
S. Anderson
I am who I am, who I seem to be
Because of what you are to me.
This is the truth which none can tell,
The mask of time,
The lonely spell.
This is the beauty
As beauty hid,
From all who seek where passions slid
Below the railings, dropped their guard
And scuttled shyly thence onward,
To places undisclosed to man
The mask of place, the mask of time.
And from that lonely citadel
Where none but honest men can dwell
To dangle on the threads of time
And wonder on the downward slide
From who we are to seem to be
Reflected in fake honesty,
Of all we said and did and grew
Of those we loved or thought we knew,
Who made us as we make ourselves,
These hollow masks, these lifetime shells,
That cater to our every whim and then
Refresh us yet again.
These masks of trust, these masks of Fate
These anchors of our weighty hate,
For all we see so fake, untrue
The mask I made to make of you
The story of my cunning plan
Of how a man ensnared by fans
Of flamed desire and subtle verse
To make a better station worse,
To cover up the flaws and scars
Laid bare by honest comments harsh,
Of who I am and seem to be,
Because of what you made me be.
The masks I wear in darkly hours
To spare the blushes of the sowers
Who sow their love and spike with hate
The moments they were born to take
And all that came and came to pass
Entrapped by Fate in a fateful mask.
As she reached over the shut off the blaring alarm clock, she grabbed the mask of motherhood from the shelf. It's a good thing that she did, because it wasn't long before her first came to her in need of something.
Needs met.
She gathered her clothes and went down the stairs to shower, taking off the mask for just a few minutes. She enjoyed the water rushing down upon her head, flushing over the stress from yesterday and the needs of this morning. She found the truth of herself again.
Truth found.
As she stepped out of the bathtub, drying herself, she reached for the mask of employee. It's a good thing that she grabbed it when she did, because the telephone rang a few minutes later and she ran out the door into the day.
Rushing invades.
She glances at the clock as she reaches the school driveway just in time to pick up her son. With cell phone in hand, she opens the door for him and he plops on the seat. She doesn't even say hello, only smiles and he sighs. She notices his sigh and replaces the make of employee with that of motherhood. She hangs up the phone and asks him about his day.
Love strikes.
They enter the door and find that her husband is home from work. She quickly adds the mask of beauty and duty, and he greets her with a kiss. She is ready to cook dinner. Walking into the kitchen, she finds the table splendidly decorated with all of her favorite tastes. He takes her hand, holds her close and whispers his love into her ear.
The masks shatter and he pulls from her the truth of who she is, and he pours into her the truth of who she is.
In no need of a mask,
In all of her beauty,
In life itself,
She is Woman.
Masked Motherhood
Which mask today?
Red, brown, or white?
Furrowed or frowning
Blanched with fright.
Shifty or clowning
Weak minded or might.
Part open the curtain
Expose the jertain
Of which you were certain
You held without hurting.
Simply Heather, I love your interpretation of the masks. Very good!
People mill around and then the band starts and they move off as one. Masked revellers hiding from what may be, what may harm, on this night, when darkness is strongest. They climb the hill in merriment to dance around the beacon fire. Here where ancient ancestors lived and watched the sea for friend and foe. Beautiful masks turn the normal into the other and help us step forward into the dark, unafraid, for now.
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