Fools Poem

 

Parable of the Rich Fool, Rembrandt (This one is new to me.)

Tomorrow is April Fools Day, which means it is also the first day of National Poetry Month. It’s a Fool’s Journey, the decision to write a poem every day for a month, even when things are feeling tight and busy. Still, it would be foolish to give up the writing and the striving to write just because my life is busy. So here’s to the new month. I am diving in! I will be creating my own prompts this month. Feel free to join me! You can post your poems in the comments section, if you like, or email me your endeavors at 4goldfinches@gmail.com, if you want to share.

  
Polikushka’s Despair, from Tolstoy’s “Ivan the Fool,” and “King Lear and the Fool in the Storm” by William Dyce

For an April First Poem, write about the Fool. Consider your own fool’s journey, your own madcap dance on the edge of the cliffs, throwing caution to the winds. I once wrote an acrostic poem about the fool, using the words DANCING ON THE CLIFF’S EDGE for the first letter of each line. Fool that I am, I seem to have misplaced it, let it flutter off into the past.

  
The Fool on the Hill in the Bisti Badlands, by John Fowler; The Fool from the Rider Waite Tarot Deck, by  Pamela Colman Smith–the image of the Fool archetype. 

Gratitude List:
1. Things come together. Things get done. Sleep gets slept.
2. This man who is decorating a birthday cake for a boy’s birthday party tomorrow.
3. Rain. Then it stops. (Hoping for a clear day tomorrow–I don’t want a houseful of small boys.)
4. Shining eyes
5. Pablo Neruda

May we walk in Beauty!

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2 thoughts on “Fools Poem

  1. Speak Your Sheltered Heart

    We are all strangers here; we are all kin.
    Voices outside us speak fervently now,
    lead us deliberately somewhere within,
    without knowing who, what, when, if or how.
    Balancing dreams with the freedom to choose
    saves witness for will and willing for wit
    yet we see what we see and we do what we do
    with purpose, when we’re able to be inside it.
    Yesterday rain showers cluttered the sky,
    our throats echoed loud in the ache of remember.
    Your strong motivation sat patiently by
    the shelter you need, resisting surrender.
    A cottage, a roof, a nod and a question?
    Yes, sit me down here; please speak the lesson.

    Liked by 1 person

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