My Mind

Personal website of M.G. Daniel. Sharing poetry, my writings, snippets from my life and whatever's on my mind.

The masks women wear

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In my late teens, a college student hurrying to catch a bus in the capital city of my birth country, I walked past a woman with the saddest eyes and high heels ringing music on the sidewalk; she seemed headed for work. I was a private poetry writing mill at that time, while studying Math, Biology and Chemistry, so out of that encounter, from things going on in my life at the time and also that of a close relative, I imagined a composite existence  and wrote the poem below, Masks. It is one of those “unprogressed” (my word for not ‘in progress’) pieces in my catalogue of unfinished works – a version is in my first award-winning set of poems.


Me, December 2013




There’s a wailing emptiness


On the fissured pavements

In the dying echoes

Of a city girl’s pencil-heeled strut.


She’s so detached;

Suitors offer love, she rebuffs

Desire blooming spontaneously

On the soil of her heart,

At the spine-curling future of an office desk

She must first calculate the prospects.


And dream on

Of princes, and bigger cities one day

Her very own high-rise dungeon in the sky,

A jumper’s drop below luminous night streets

Cavort with ladies, once-pretty and groomed

In revelry to feline sleekness, to meteoric span.


A prospector dares;

His patience chisels away

Cemented slabs of confidence,

Behind the bravery of each fortressed life

You’ll find scampering humans,

A build of bones and bruises.


Her will of iron he sees

Secured in a cracking case of make-believe,

Past her flashing frolics ambulance vultures roar

Through vivacity, to a heart soggy with sadness,

Scalpels and science can’t lift the heaviness

Pulling down her lips where the smiles taper.


City girls flit by working;

Resuscitating fun, heartaches and loneliness

Wrapped up in the very latest fashions, patented secrets

Protected, held-high above

The midday crowds like storefront banners

Proclaiming parading moods below.


City girls are modern

Career castaways and independent,

Hurting, will not say

Lest we be heard,

I need you.


Author: M.G. Daniel

I am a lifelong scribbler who is now focusing on poetry and becoming more established as a writer.

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