25th July 2022

Feelings are an f-word
over-riding who I am,
taking away control,
they don’t give a damn.

Melancholy overcoming,
my anger running with the bulls,
love infatuated hopeless,
collectively we’re fools.

They are errant children running,
sometimes I daren’t look,
on the odd occasions when they win,
to my core I’m shook.

Yet in them there I are,
they hold a mirror to my soul,
inseparably frustrating,
no denying we are whole.

I think we need to make a peace,
to fight within it is not right,
in sync we'll be much stronger,
succeed in life we might.

I vow to get to know them better,
develop faith in who they be,
change the f in f-word,
start living …fabulously!

Prompt: a nice F-word

Fabulous Carlos,
Walking torres del Paine,
Patagonia, Chile.

Twelve Weeks Poetry (mine) Unhinged copyright information Copyright Sunda 2022