My dad died in 1968.
I don't have a picture
of him on Hank
with boots, spurs and hat.
So this one works...
I brought the wild dead steer
up from the lower country
that had run for eight years.
Dad stuffed the head and carried
it around for a few years.
Dad loved horse races.
Dad built a huge cabin type house
in Phoenix not far from the track.
Dad was divorced by my mother
after 35 years.
Dad was a drunk.
My sister thinks he was gay.
I didn't see that growing up
but I wasn't looking.
He spent years off riding for cattle.
I worked with him.
We got the jobs done.
In Phoenix, I lived in a trailer next door.
Dad went to the races...I didn't.
He died when in the bathtub of a stroke.
My sister found him.
I lived in his cabin house
and had doors open and close..
his ghost, they say.
I thought he visited often!
Still does upon occasion.
Happy Father's Day, DAD.
Guess we were thinking along the same lines, writing an entry about Dad on Father's Day no matter the difficulties he presented to us. I like this poem, it seems very truthful and honest, and there is love there, so it covers your relationships with Dad very well.
ReplyDeleteThis is a touching poem concerning a difficult relationship. I like the pictures very much as they embody the tough old Clyde I met and remember.
ReplyDeleteGood to remember the Fathers who are no longer with us no matter how challenging they were. Happy Father's Day Grandpa!!
ReplyDeleteYour Dad looks like a real cowboy. Reminds me of the one John hires to work his cattle.
ReplyDelete