Join the Masquerade! Writing Persona Poetry

If you’ve never written a poem in any voice but your own, you might want to try writing a persona poem—it may lead you down unexplored paths of creativity!

The Academy of American Poets defines a persona poem thus:

“A persona poem is a poem in which the poet speaks through an assumed voice….Also known as a dramatic monologue, this poetic form shares many characteristics with a theatrical monologue: an audience is implied; there is no dialogue; and the poet takes on the voice of a character, a fictional identity, or a persona.”

The voice you adopt when you write a persona poem can be a fictional, imaginary or historical character, an animal, an inanimate object, a collective such as a country, or even an omniscient god-like voice.  This is when the fun begins!

In “Richard the Lionheart’s Mummified Heart Examined,” a poem inspired by a true story and reprinted in my latest collection, Stone & Star: Poems in Voices Across Time, I alternately adopt the voice of the King’s Minstrel, the Royal surgeon, Richard I, his wife Berengaria of Navarre, the heart itself, and the forensic scientists who examined the heart in modern times.  Needless to say, this was a fun poem to write and the voices seemed to meld seamlessly to tell the story.

In psychological terms, Jung described persona as a social mask that conceals “the true nature of the individual.”  The term originates from the theater in ancient Greece where actual masks were worn by actors on stage to represent different points of view.

However, I find that writing persona poetry rather than concealing, frees the writer to reveal their subjective truths to the reader without the constraints of their own personality. 

Writing persona poetry is the closest I will ever come to acting, and I find it incredibly liberating.  I first found my own voice via persona poetry and it is still my favorite poetical form to use.

When writing as a historical character, I do some research and try to read letters written by that person if they are available, to pick up some of their personal vocabulary.  The way they address and sign their letters, their general tone, their “voice” is usually apparent and I use that to guide my own writing of the poem. 

Recently, my poem “Lafayette Gingerbread” was published in an anthology,  Poets Respond to the American Revolution: The US250 Persona Poem Project by Highland Park Poetry, which was devoted entirely to persona poetry about U.S. history from 1765-1800, leading up the American Revolution. 

We were asked to write from the point of view of fictional or historical persons, animals or objects:  one poet wrote from the perspective of Brown Beauty, the horse Paul Revere rode, some wrote from the perspective of symbols such as the Tree of Liberty or the Liberty Bell.

When writing as a fictional character, I try to stay within the confines of the work they appeared in, and use vocabulary suited to the time period of the novel.  I have fun imagining what some fictional characters would say, given a chance, especially when in the original work they were not given much dialogue.  In this spirit, I’ve given voice to Weena, the Time Traveler’s mostly mute companion in H.G. Well’s The Time Machine, and Nova, the beautiful mute heroine in the original 1968 Planet of the Apes film. 

I find most of the persona poems I write are emotional in nature, speaking from the heart in a more direct and universal way than I could write from my own limited experience. Some writers may feel uncomfortable putting words into another’s mouth, so to speak. Unlike novelists or playwrights, who regularly write dialogue for fictional and in some cases historical characters, poets are used to thinking of their writing as highly personal and not open to other’s voices. But isn’t most poetry persona poetry, in a way?  Because whenever we write, we almost unconsciously adopt a persona, a writing voice, that is not our everyday voice, but which nonetheless reflects our authentic and true nature.

Beatriz F. Fernandez is a poet and short fiction writer. Join me for my November 1st reading (along with Miguel Mitchell) as part of the Speculative Sunday Reading series!  Presented and moderated by Akua Lezlie Hope. Readings are live on Zoom and tickets are free via the Eventbrite link.

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Google Doodle Celebrates Dorothy Miles

Click on photo to visit the Google Doodle page

Wonderful that Google has dedicated today’s Google Doodle (August 19, 2024) to Dorothy Miles.

Miles, as it says, was a pioneer of poetry in sign language. This is significant because poetry is often still widely considered to be an oral form of creative writing, written down, yes, but meant to be read aloud, or memorized and recited, performed. But can it be performed and not be spoken?

Here are a few performances by Ms. Miles, courtesy of YouTube:

There is no sound. Can you understand the poem?

And here is a third poem:

Do Miles’ poems speak to you, without use of the voice? In a medium that began as fully performative, how does it feel to have to attend to her movements with your eyes, more than her words, the sound of them, with your ears? Are the poems lost on you? Or do they move you? 

Approximately eleven million Americans are deaf, and many more have some form of hearing loss. When I watch Ms. Miles perform her poetry, one thing that struck me immediately was the feeling of being disconnected, because I could not hear her, though she looked to be speaking. Once I settled in I found the works engaging, and they really tapped into my emotions much more quickly than poetry usually does.

What makes a poem a poem? What does it mean to be a poet? Poetry has been one of the oldest and most consistently practiced form of creative writing, and it has also been some of the most exclusionary. Ms. Miles opened that door for people who could not use their ears to enjoy poetry, or their mouths to speak their poems aloud.

Ms. Miles’ career in poetry ended when her life did, after a fall from a window that was concluded to be self-inflicted due to mental health challenges she was experiencing. If you know someone experiencing a crisis please consider using the 988 helpline.

This, my friends, is why diversity is so important. Without an open system that welcomes diversity, without open hearts to give something different from the “norm,” “average,” what we’re used to, what’s traditional, or simply what we’ve come to expect, we close the door on beautiful experiences like poetry written and performed by Ms. Miles. When we celebrate poetry in all its forms, we invite more people to have the chance to share with us their creations. Not every creation is the right one for every person, but when you find the one that touches you, you will find yourself forever changed.

Thank you, Dorothy Miles, for your poetry.