My father was a famous astronaut,
A hero from the bright comics I bought
On Saturdays. Sometimes I heard the key
Turn gently in the lock long after we
Had gone to bed. And then my parents fought
Like lovers in my mother’s sheets, but not
Out loud as they might wake the baby. Caught
Between embarrassment and lust to see
My father was
Still real, I clutched my rocket ship and fought
Back tears. His only letter is what got
Me through those years – to know God and country
Might come first, but he always cared for me
No matter what our friends and neighbors thought
My father was.
10 comments:
A nice childhood memory you share here.
I like that he knew his father cared for him.
Thanks ~
Wonderful memory and well done rhyme scheme too.
I found this to be poignant, even sad...yet full of hope. Children try so hard to hold on to the good things in life.
I love the transition from hero worship, to disillusionment, to acceptance. Almost every kid goes through this to some extent, but you've captured it well and honestly.
The form of your poem is captivating, with the repeated phrase "my father was" set apart. Vivid evocation of a child's perceptions and emotions.
a lovely tribute to your father...a hero, but human as well...like joel i agree you captured well the range in how we see our parents...
This is beautifully crafted, and tugs on my heart as I read it in the lovely Colorado midnight... a vulnerable and honest poem, to be sure. xxxj
Hmm sound like there's a longing for a bit more in the "father" that"was"... This intrigued me
a strong capture - this is kinda mysterious but not obscure - i like the intrigue and the ghost of hint of the familiar
cheers
Love the commitment you have to him...
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