Best Masked Poems
What is this feeling
This feeling deep down in my soul
Eating away at me
Threatening to tear away my flesh
And unmask me as someone completely different
Than who I pretend to be
When you’re constantly worried
About being exposed
As someone who you think no one will like
You can’t focus on who you really are
Life is no fun
When you are not letting your true self out
If you constantly hold yourself back
Hiding from the world
Pretending to be tough
Pretending to be a person
Who is not bothered by their words
So let your hair down
Be the person you want to be
Who cares if they don’t like you
You are worthy of their love
If they can’t see that
They’re blind
Let yourself cry
Let yourself feel the feelings that you always denied
Let yourself be who you want to be
Don’t be the person you think they will like
Be the person you will like
After a short ceremony, the few people present,
standing at a safe distance from each other, watch
the coffin being lowered slowly into the grave.
Another covid-19 victim is laid to rest without pomp,
yet with dignity and respect.
end of funeral
the silent birds in the trees
resume their singing
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Contest: Haibun – Pick Your Theme
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Placed 3rd
© 16th July 2020
Masked Men
Look in the mirror
Look in the mirror
What do you see?
Masked men staring back at me
What do you do when you look in the mirror?
Only to despise what you see
The pain you caused the everlasting memories
Do you see what you've done?
Can you live with what you caused?
Go now down your distant path
Your unworthy happiness will never last
These are things the Masked Men Cause
Who’s to say your right or wrong?
Misguided emotions lead you down this path
Masked Men mistakes will surly last
Go now the time has come
No more chances the Masked Men are done
Turn away and feel the pain
The lonely walk to enter slumber
The Masked Men Smile with pleasures unknown
Another one down
A broken spirit lost
Close your eyes and take his hand
Let the Masked Men take you away
By: Tim Lundmark
He toils in dirt on a scorching summer day
a simple man yearning to earn a fruitful pay.
Scars from spades failed to diminish his hopes
in zealous manner, he climbs along rocky slopes.
His seeds of exuberance simmer in parched land
he wishes to save a few pennies for a red band.
The joy on his beloved's face would be a reward
his sweat-soaked wishes more than he could afford.
At twilight he receives earnings of his trades
his previous savings add to cheerful cascades.
A new red band for his beloved's silky tresses
he'd want to stroke her hair in warm caresses.
Her love in sprinkles of blooming lilac pearls
holds his shivering courage in soothing curls.
A whispering solace in mighty oceans of life
melts pain into dripping embrace in heavy strife.
The world has always known him for his stern shades
healing tenderness remains masked beyond dark charades.
July 20, 2020
10-20 lines on MASK Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mohan Chutani
~Premiere Contest Winner: 1st Place
It is funny!
Very funny how
A masked preacher can preach honesty;
And even points at the wrongs with his
Fingers of hypocritical righteousness…
We stare with grim satisfaction
Because the black winged Angel
Ridding a flaming chariot tells a tale;
And proclaims that God is love,
Yet he, himself is an Angel of death.
Day after wretched day Humanity walks!
He walks down the dark alley of freedom;
Freedom which shouts fairness;
Fairness that begets confusion—
And he tries to bottle the spittle of birds…
Every night he lies in bed and tries to hear
The voice of fishes shouting gender and Sexualty in a world where the scale of
Equality is unevenly proportional and
Equal rights mean the oppression of men.
Apartheid, the history of Mzanzi is
The present for the African world and
That has caused his inferiority complexes
To suffice and personalize racism and
One after another, generations play along.
Lest we forget,
The victims are just as guilty
As the perpetrators but at some point.
Humanity weeps as he inspects
His isle of hopelessness!
But just like the majority, men;
They cry in hiding.
Where no-one sees,
No-one hears and
No-one dares speak for the black sheep!
Deep down this egocentric radicalism,
He orders rotten eggs to make an omelette
With which he feeds pirate justice,
And he goes all year long
On a running stomach.
Although the words never sink,
Humanity hearkens to
The rumbling stomach of justice but
When the rainbow of life turns
Grey!
Humanity's children cry day and night
While the Angel of death entrusted
Their protection feasts on their tears
And dances to the beautiful sound
Of their troubled voices.
And when the wolf comes for their
Brazen souls we hail at the smiling lady
Who says 'I am virgin Mary'
With fangs behind her white vail
And poison under her tongue—death!
The rich are poor but morally,
Yet no-one sees
And no-one cares;
They say 'each one for himself'
Come shall the final hour do.
It is funny!
Very funny how
A masked preacher can preach honesty;
And even points at the wrongs with his
Fingers of hypocritical righteousness…
Humanity looks on
And passes his judgement.
The masked preacher scoffs:
“No-one is perfect.
No, not one!”
Every six years in the month of July, a female masked nemesis returns to the human world. She comes back for revenge against evil men like the gangsters who raped and killed her and her sister when they were still alive. She only disappears after six days of wreaking havoc on sinful and pervert men.
Many mean people have failed fighting the masked nemesis. Only until after two centuries that her stubbornness halted when she forgave her trespassers. She never wanted to be bad to anyone, but she promised to return again and again if the world will be doomed and covered with lust and perversion.
The masked nemesis' sister appeared one last time, reminding her to subdue her hatred for men. Only peace can save a human soul through forgiveness and contrition.
If you are living and leaning on the good side, you need not fear the masked nemesis.
All evil works come to an end.
The Masked Singer is an entertainer on stage in masquerade
A baker by day; a singer by night with accolade
The Masked Singer dresses as a male and sometimes female
He is a ***** but with many personalities of a strong male
The masked one bakes bread in the morning
Before dawn donates bread in an orphanage
That's what he does in bright days of living
Sings and dance in the evening passage
The masked male renders songs of praise
To God and to all of humane haste
Once he was awarded in the Hall of Craze
Disguising as a singing pauper on streets of blaze
It's a short-lived life narrated about the masked singer
Who died shortly after a sponsored-play with a ringer
A runaway train in the dark that ran over
His untenable body wringed and flattened headless
Yards away from the rail... a rolling head of the masked singer
"I dedicate this simple poem to a friend representing all other hardworking LGBTQs of the World who offer more than enough of themselves in saving other people's lives."
(Prosebite)
castle bound
castle masked
masked by clouds
masked by snow
snow holding horrors
snow dancing in candlelight
candlelight deepening the hollows
hollows of deep sunk eyes
hollows of alcoves
alcoves with writhing lovers
alcoves with frosted pink floors
floors ripe for waltzes
floors hiding trap doors
doors open to dizzy guests
doors to back stairs
stairs to the turret
stairs to the dungeon
dungeon awash in the deep river's flow
dungeon where boats bring up guests below
below there are moans
below pain meets pleasure
pleasure gowned in satin
pleasure in black tie
tie the knots loosely
tie wrists behind thighs
thighs in silken hose
thighs open wide
wide eyed maidens shiver
wide worldly men gather
gather to watch the Mistress rise
gather them up
up, up the stairs
up to the minions who wait
wait as the snow blows through
wait as tangos blare
blare with the wolves howls
blare, bellow, and roar
roar as the dead dance
roar as the timbers flame
flame in the fireplace
flame in the living heart
hearts at the devil's ball
hearts soon to beats their last
last dance
last kiss
kiss at midnight
midnight feeding
feeding
midnight
Hidden deep behind soulful eyes
beauty emerges but remains unseen
unearthed this buried treasure
l'attrait caché derrière le masque
Words spoken hearts revealed broken
for is it fear that keeps one cloaked
to remain in the absence of light
to seek comfort, solace, sympathy
in a world of hatred and mistrust
where one can not be hurt
if one is not known
where the past is the past
and love can finally be found
Step out from the shadows of insecurities
and into the light
of hope, trust, and conviction
for there is where life lies
The masked stranger
Tenderly the ranger stood
With kitty in his arms
The saloon fight had rendered her
Enraptured by his charms
His easy strength and gentle face
Though hidden by his mask
Left saloon Kitty faint of heart
Almost afraid to ask
‘Say masked stranger
Are you the law?’
She mewed in melting tones
‘I am,’ the stranger answered
‘This racoon rides alone.’
And so the legend started
Of a masked and lone lawman
Though others have
in other times
Adapted his lone stand.
Through the glistening sunshine, he rode, the masked man,
His face dissembled, but held high in pride.
No one would dare ask what his name or history was,
Neither did someone know what beneath the mask, lied.
For what they knew he was the greatest warrior of the king,
Presumed humility and kindness to the people,
A true fighter in defending the truth,
Instances to prove his courage were inestimable.
He got down aside a patch of plenteous roses to pluck one,
The one which appeared special, with a fragrance to invigorate,
As he was on a quest, to find his soul mate.
This town he was going to was the last in the kingdom, Rubek.
Though the maidens in the kingdom were beautiful, no doubt.
His search in the previous towns had went in vein.
Though he was honored and renowned,
Scared of how his face might be they did refrain.
While he was on his way, Rubek had got the news
Maidens gathered-“What if he looks like a devil’s son.”
“His face would’ve been burnt, scraped during war.”
“I can’t marry him”, they cried in unison.
The masked man arrived, stopped right in front of them,
But when he asked for marriage they all had their heads bent low.
He discerned their answer for silence prolonged,
Sadness concealed under his mask, he rose to go.
Then one of them came forth from the crowd,
Observing her beauty and grace for a second he froze,
She said-“I’d consider myself fortunate to have a companion like you.”
Within no time he knelt, gave her the rose,
And then he threw up his mask for all to see.
Some maidens fainted, others cried in distress,
The masked man turned out to be the charming prince
Who took her hand and declared, “She will be my princess.”
MASKED BALL – THE SURPRISE
The final sweet phrase has sounded
Our dancers await by twos
All still in mask, impatient
To hear their sovereign’s news
Queen Adaelade, Ball Chancellor
Has watched the evening through
Her task, by long tradition bound
Select the reigning two
Her selection goes a wandering
But, at last, in regal voice
She points the Lady Persephony
And her lordly patrician choice
The pair, to wild acclaim, unmask
Selection, (all along) contrivance knows
Will be the Lady Persephony
And her *Cavalier of the Rose
*I couldn’t resist the last line’s reference to Richard Strauss’ Opera
Der Rosenkavalier.
MASKED BALL – THE QUESTION
Maddening the music
In exotic minor key
Those ornate, blinding masks
That cherished memory
Scented the ambiance
Obscurely lit the hall
Rococo baroque and splendid
In period costume all
Which of them my goddess
My lady Persephony
All appear enchanting
Which enchantress she?
Will she our tryst remember
That October night’s repose
The special autumn’s moonlight
The wine, the red, red rose?
Innocently passing a tree
In search of a good fruit
Our hero heard a meow of “help me”
So he donned on his super suit.
With mask a fixed and claws a plenty
Our hero scampered the oak with ease
Eyeing his feline so skinny
Shaking like she might freeze.
I am here to save your day
So just breathe a sigh of relief
Down the tree as in a fray
Easing our feline of her grief.
Carrying the damsel to the door
As if saving her from ground zero
“I saved your feline Mr. Moore”
Says the proud Masked Hero.
The raccoon is a burglar …
There’s no door he can’t unlatch.
Baby hand-prints in the butter?
You can bet Raccoon’s found that!