I’m in a poetry writing group, and as it’s International Poetry Month, I’ve been challenged to write a poem based on a different prompt every day. Here’s my first poem based on the prompt, “Fool”.
I have been a fool for many things before.
(A fool for love, walking miles in flip-flops.
A fool for believing your fairy tales of girls
in red silk dresses walking along snow.
A fool for not noticing the trail of lies.)
I was told,
“Listen to your head.
Not just your heart.”
My head is where I store my brains,
but at times, I feel as though
I’m Fiyero the Scarecrow.
(Where my brains should be
is nothin’ but stuffin’.)
I burnt myself on love.
The temperature scorched,
and I was naive, oblivious to the facts.
I refuse to be a fool anymore
because every time my heart begins
I pause & listen to my head.
(The churning of cogs and gears must mean
I’ve tried wearing the label of the fool.
It always fit, but somehow, it felt lopsided.
Like it was a label I was forced to wear,
but I never really accepted.