Happy Poetry Friday!
My Father’s Birthday was this week, he would have been 91 years old this year. He also passed away 4 years ago the week of Halloween. I think about him all the time, but I like to do some extra thinking about him this time of year… I wrote him this letter poem, I would have liked to do a sketch a little closer to the poem, but this sketch kinda gives you the same feeling as in the poem.
It smells like summer-mixed–fall
Strange for almost mid-October
But all’s slightly kittywampus
Since covid-19 rolled in.
I sure miss you–
Your smile and love
Your calls and care
Your birthdays come again
Maybe I’ll do some stargazing
Maybe some stardust will drift
And I’ll catch
I close my eyes and remember
I still remember…
you running with me
on my first two-wheeler
was it red or blue?
that little bike…
You had to bend
but that didn’t
you held on to my seat back
I held on to my handle bars–
hugging on for dear life
You exhilarated with joy, excitement, and pride
I exhilarated with fear, but gobs of desire
We did it!
We did it together
You let go
I sailed away
with wind-reddened cheeks
Barreling down pavement
Pedaling as if
Air would lift
Me up into sky,
Into your heart
Love you Dad, xo
p.s. miss you…
© 2020 Michelle Kogan
So Go out and catch some sun while it’s still warm, take in some nature, listen to Nina Simone, and if you haven’t already remember to Vote!
Stop by Janice Scully’s blog Salt City Verse for this weeks Poetry Friday roundup, for lot’s more poetry to fill you up, thanks for hosting Janice! Janice is hosting the roundup for the first time, and she’s sharing a poem inspired by holding onto some of our lovely summeriness and saving it for our approaching winter–sounds good to me…
Visit Renée LaTulippe at No Water River to find out more about what Poetry Friday is.
Oh, Michelle, thank you. This is such a beautiful poem of love and thanks and remembering what counts. My dad is gone 15 years ago next week. He would have turned 100 this past July. I think of him all the time. I was lucky, so were you. I know he loves your poem. If only we could hold the moments that mean so much. Big hugs and thanks again for this. Today would have been my parents 75th wedding anniversary, so that much more poignant for me…………
So this morning I had a vivid dream about my mother. I don’t often remember them but this was just before I had to get up to make the grandkids their breakfast. (So much fun, really!) It was startling in many ways but good ways. This may sound weird but, dreams, you know. It was at her funeral and I was alone (don’t know why)….and it turns out she really had not died. She was moving and then talking. Talked to me and said, “oh hello Janet”….so she knew me. I mentioned that they needed to get her her hearing aids so she could communicate better. I am sure that your poem about your dad and my parents’ anniversary had them wandering around my brain, but still, it was like a message and I am going to fly with that!!!! It was a happy moment when I woke up.
What a lovely tribute, Michelle.
This is a beautiful tribute, Michelle. I love your repetition of ‘We did it/We did it together’. that’s the point where the stardust got into my eyes 🙂
Oh, so loving, Michelle. I love you focusing on that bicycle learning. That shows so much about the love from your dad & then from you to him, a best memory. I remember those birthdays too, a time when we do think more about our loved ones gone, still celebrating them as you did with your letter-poem. Thank you!
Michelle, I am sure your father is smiling from his heavenly bench. This poem is a tribute and oh so touching. Love this stanza: And I’ll catch/a piece.of you/on its’way.down as it moves down with stardust to dust the world. Great illustration, too!
It’s beautiful to see your precious moments with your dear Dad through this lovely poem & your love through this wonderful sketch.
Appreciations for the sun from Nina Simone, too!
Beautiful sentimental poem, Michelle. (((hugs))) I think it’s a lovely match with the artwork. I also like that you ended your post with Nina Simone. Great choice.
What inspiring memories you shared and I loved the playful look of your poem on the page. Nina Simone’s Here Comes the Sun was a nice way for me to start my day today. Thanks!
Beautiful, touching poem and drawing, Michelle. LOVE the part about the stardust drifting down and your bicycle learning. I can just picture the two of you, and your feelings of triumph as you finally found your balance. My dad’s been gone about 18 months and these days I wonder what he would think about the pandemic, as one who experienced the Great Depression and worked at Pearl Harbor on Dec 7, 1941. It would have been good to get his perspective on things. And thanks, too, for the Nina Simone (hadn’t heard her version of this wonderful song).
Thanks for sharing your loving words to your dad!
I can picture those wind-reddened cheeks, so exhilarated by conquering your fears! How proud your dad must have been of you, then and later. Love never ends!
You are stardust, and your father is with you… thank you for this beautiful poem and for sharing your dad with us today. xo
What wonderful memories captured here!
Michelle, how are you holding up? I see your inktober works on twitter and this incredible poem and portrait here and wonder if you ever sleep? My goodness. You are so fortunate to have had such a lovely father in your life. I’m sure you miss him every bit as much as this poem shows. I wish you a bit of stardust in this summer-fall mixed season. Thank you for sharing a very special part of you and your art.
Hi Linda, thanks for all your kind thoughts here. My dad was and still is a big figure in my life, loving, caring, and considerate—family was very special for him. Daily walks really help. I’m looking forward to the winter break and a bit of free time, xo
Goodness this is a beautiful poem, Michelle. *wiping tears from my eyes* I lost my dad 33 years ago this month (1 week after my 21st birthday). Thank you for sharing your heart wide. I love your use of “gobs” – an underutilized word. 🙂
This moment takes my breath away: “I’ll catch a piece of you on its way down.” Beautiful poem, Michelle.