Here’s the second in a series of posts about last week’s WordSparks Creative Writing Camp at the Salem Museum. I was genuinely thrilled to see these young people enjoying the fun of live drama as they gathered materials for their Green Man (and Woman) Masks and created an origin story for the mysterious Green Man seen for centuries in art and architecture. The kids came up with fantastic stories about how the green folk turned green! I’ll let the pictures talk for themselves.
story prompt
Green Man (and Woman!) Masks
I’m gearing up for leading WordSparks Creative Writing Camp next week, so I’m getting my kids busy trying out a few of the projects I’ve planned. The first one we tried out is the Green Man (or Woman) Mask.
Basically, the Green Man is a leafy-faced dude who has appeared in art and architecture since ancient times. He looks like this:



(Green Man photos courtesy of Wikimedai Commons. First image by Johannes Otto Först, second and third by Simon Garbutt.)
The idea for the craft is to gather natural materials from the gardens and park surrounding the museum to use in a Green Man or Green Woman mask. Then we’ll write a mask poem… or mask story for the prose inclined.
As I got my kids to make some prototypes, here are a few things I’ve learned:
1. There is no “wrong” way to do this (at least by my standards).
2. Glue-gun glue is HOT!
3. When you go outside with a big basket and start throwing in lots of leaves, flowers, twigs, grass, etc., and them come back in and dump it all on your kitchen table, you can expect to find tiny bugs on and around your kitchen table for quite a while.
3. My baby makes a super cute Green Man.
Blackout Poem / “Before I Went Away” (Does it matter if I’m making sense?)
Here’s another blackout poem, this one from page 5 of “The Beauty’s Daughter.”
Since I’m not sure it makes sense without more punctuation, here’s a transcription:
Before I Went Away
She had never known the true name.
There is no need for thinking, my sister.
When it was necessary to utter lies,
the truth allowed her to call herself
anyone: your sister,
his voice, his ancestry, eyes,
a compliment, her teachers,
their pupils, her friends,
such words.
~
Now, having typed it out, it still doesn’t exactly make sense. But that’s ok with me. A blackout poem isn’t so much as creating literal sense as it is finding an emotional cadence, right? (And yes, I’m aware the words “emotional cadence” probably don’t make sense to anyone but me.)
The kids, hubby and I just finished listening to an audio version of Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, and I’m reminded of a great line from the immortal Willy Wonka:
A little nonsense now and then
is relished by the wisest men.
That said, I don’t think my nonsense makes me wise, but it does make me happy.






























