Tuesday, August 23, 2011


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.


Heaven said...

A nice childhood memory you share here.

I like that he knew his father cared for him.

Thanks ~

Pat Hatt said...

Wonderful memory and well done rhyme scheme too.

Victoria said...

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.

Joel W. Clackum said...

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.

Mark Kerstetter said...

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.

Brian Miller said...

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...

jen revved said...

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

Sheila Moore said...

Hmm sound like there's a longing for a bit more in the "father" that"was"... This intrigued me

Arron Shilling said...

a strong capture - this is kinda mysterious but not obscure - i like the intrigue and the ghost of hint of the familiar


Anonymous said...

Love the commitment you have to him...