Because we all want to write more poems.
Poem for my father
I still have the stories, I tell them to my sons
You grew up with nothing, medicine bottles as toy cars
Dirt as a racetrack. For a time, you lived in
two boxcars with your mother and father and siblings
One boxcar to sleep in, one with a hole in the roof
and a stove for cooking
You joined the Civilian Conservation Corps and worked
in national parks and traveled west from Missouri.
You joined the Navy, did your tour of duty on an LST,
What they referred to as a Large Slow-moving Target,
Fueling warships in the Atlantic.
Ending up in Seattle where you met Janey,
In a boarding house in Seattle.
You loved her with a strong silent love
A dependable love, a quiet love
You built a house for her mother
You built a life for eight children
Through hard times and sickness
Heart attack and cancer
You kept on loving her, loving us
Until you left us
I was 26
I was young
I was full of myself
I should have been full of you
Now you're gone
Your stories remain
Your face shows up in the mirror
Your soft and kind voice comes out of me
When I am full of grace
When I am full of you
- Neil McKay's Shared Poems
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Comments
Clayton Medeiros
June 17, 2012
Permalink
Well said and a lovely memory
Well said and a lovely memory as well as memoir. Gemma talks about seeing her mother in the mirror.