Monday, April 25, 2016

Poem #30 thoughts on Dad

Since I only work about 10 minutes on most of these poem attempts, this one has some good ideas, but it is terrible form. Does it want to rhyme or not? It is clumsy and I’d need to work on it a while to get it into any kind of shape, but I think that is where my process of thinking about my Daddy is right now too---detailed, but not knowing what shape to be. Miss you, Daddy!
Fly Away Doc
My father was a funny bird
That flew the coop at a very young age
Not before working hard
At being a man while in child’s clothing
He taught his own father to read
By reading to him and teaching
A man more stubborn than
a country mule stuck in the mud
to open up his mind and become
someone totally different by believing
in what they read together
God’s word pried them both open
To the possibilities of loving
Each other and those around
Even though all they had known
Pulling up coal from the ground
Hands, faces, and insides black
They were scrubbed down
And found a way to relate
Dad still wanted more
He traveled to a distant shore
Not his choice, but the war
Dragged him onto a boat
That floated away his location
But never his ambition
He laid bets with those vets
Finding the bulk of his tuition
And the GI bill funded the rest
He did his best and became a doctor
His father found this less than fair
As he believed now that only God
Would heal him both spiritual
And physical and everything else a fraud
The thing that brought them together
Broke them apart at the start
In the end my father flew back
To Kentucky and his Dad
When his mother was sick
And his Dad was sad
Wanting anything to heal her
My father came in to assist
She didn’t make it
But it was for his and her sake
He came back to the nest
To give them both rest
And be the good number one son
When all things were done

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