I can’t say I’m passionate about poetry. I rarely read it. I most often don’t get it.. What I do get is the feeling that the author is trying to communicate something and I just want to say “Out with it, already!’
Except my Dad’s poetry. He was a master of the Poetic form AABB, with the occasional ABAB employed to shake things up. His poems were warm, easy to understand and always humorous…just like the man that wrote them.
Occasionally something happens to me and I have to sit down and write in verse. I can’t squeeze it into predictable rhymes and forms like he could. What comes out is more introspective, more free form, and hopefully as inspiring. Thanks Dad for passing on the gift of putting words on paper in whatever form it takes.
Yesterday being Father’s day, I thought about my dad and missed him. My dad was a rebel of sorts. He worked hard with loud heavy machinery his whole life. He looked and often acted gruff and yet interestingly enough he wrote poetry. He loved music and listened to not only to the predictable Johnny Cash & Wilf Carter but also the more surprising composer and conductor John Philip Sousa. Taming crops, gravel roads and ten children didn’t leave him a lot of time to express his rebel self. Once we all left home more of his true character shone through in stellar moments, such as picking up a drag-racing ticket in his 60’s.
According to the custom of the day, he worked hard and looked forward to his retirement at age 65. I don’t believe retirement brought out the best in him. He constantly told the story of sitting in his chair and thinking he should go do something and then he’d say, “I worked my whole life to be able to be free and do what I want so I’m just going to sit here.” Somehow I don’t think sitting there was as satisfying as he thought it was going to be. At one point, around 70 years old, he randomly answered an ad for a Grader Operator and was swiftly hung up on. I wish there was more room back then for people to rebel against the expectation of retirement. (I think we need to make more allowances for Seniors to keep working with more freedom of schedule to travel, pursue hobbies, volunteer, doctor etc….but that’s a different tangent.) If you’re thinking you want to retire, I hope instead you will re-invent yourself! You are never too old to involve yourself in something you’re passionate about.
As an ode to my rebel father who has left a sizeable heritage in all things that matter, I dedicate this early morning rambling.
Rebel
Rebel & burst free.
Resist the urge to stay hard.
Pulling the darkness close, pushing away that which seeps in and threatens to soften.
Burst free.
Rebel & break loose.
Shed the hard outer shell. Let it fall away.
Reach for that which revives and nourishes.
Break loose.
Rebel & stretch upward.
Believe that, although you can’t see it yet, above there is light.
Don’t let the smothering darkness stunt your growth.
Stretch upward.
Rebel & unfold.
Don’t shrink from the light’s strength.
Loosen up and release the power to recreate. Embrace it and grow
Unfold.
Rebel & fortify.
Let cell upon cell, thought upon thought, fill up more space than seemingly possible.
The relentless wind, the beating rain only brings strength.
Fortify.
Rebel & blossom
Pull together all that is in you to create something amazing.
Don’t reserve your best for another day. Unfurl it today
Blossom
Rebel & flourish
Amaze the watching world with unseen brilliance.
The best of your strength funnelled into a fantastic display.
Flourish.
Rebel & bear fruit
Nourish the hungry. Deliver the seeds that will create more life
The best of you passed on as a heritage.
Bear Fruit
Happy Father’s Day Dad. I miss you and your poetry.