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