An Owl in my head

An idea from the animals represented on the bicorns worn by felos at carnaval in Galicia.

‘There is an owl in my head’

said Joseph. ‘I am wise,

wisest of all creatures’.

‘There is a tiger in my head’

said Paul. ‘I am  fierce,

all creatures fear me’.

‘A stag in mine’

said Thomas. ‘ I am majestic,

admired by all’.

‘My head is empty’

said Jim. ‘a space

for all creatures to come and go.’

Did you dress up for Halloween

 

My answer is  always no. It must go back to my childhood, maybe Halloween scares; I’ve never been fond of fancy dress and masks. They make me uneasy, and I don’t particularly like not being able to see faces.

The poems below are from ‘Felos aínda serra’ (AMASTRA-N-GALAR, 2004), and were inspired by photographs of felos ,  carnaval maskers ,taken by Emilio Araúxo in Galicia.

The chapbook, with wonderful illustrations by Charlie Cullen,is one of a series penned by poets from around the world. It consists of 10 short poems translated into Galician, my English originals are  below each. The whole publication can be viewed at  http://issuu.com/felosdemaceda/docs/felos_ainda_serra ; the others in the series are also available for viewing, see http://www.blogoteca.com/felosdemaceda/index.php?cat=13440 . Great credit and congratulations are due to Emilio for publishing these very attractive booklets, and making them available to all.

 

 

 

 

 

8.

“There.

  There.

  In the holes.

  Eyes watching you.” 

“Yes.

  Yes.

  I see them.

  In the holes.

  Watching

  me.”

 10.

He lifted his hand to his mask;

his hand: skin and knuckles and frailty. 

Someone humorously put frailty into the face;

The hand magnifies it.

Wearing Masks

Masks are so often associated with fun; a carnival performer wears a mask, but so does the burglar, the salesman, teacher, etc....... Recognizing and understanding masks is essential for survival. This from Felos ainda serra

Everyone imagines him friendly
because his mask has that huge smile;
that wide, bright, unflinching smile.

He moves close into my face;
alone with this cardboard fiction
I feel him watching through his spy-holes.

I do not like masks, the smiling ones least;
he smells my unease;
I see that it is not a smile.