Life is so hard right now that it was difficult not to focus on the state of the world as I began to write. I tried to brainstorm some ideas and asked myself, "What is classic?" I immediately thought of the classic cars my father loved and repaired, the "classics" an English major reads, the classics major, and the way my son says "classic" when he listens to his friends talk about their escapades. That short list set me on a familiar path. You see, I've written a lot of poems about my dad since his death, now almost 11 years ago. I'm not sure why, but my heart and poems often seem to find their way to him. Here's what I came up with.
My Father's Hobby
Worn out shells of classic cars
rusty and forlorn
peaking out from weeds and grass
"Parts cars"
my father called them
culled them for the Fiat
he was rebuilding in the garage
"Junk!"
my mother called them
On Sunday drives we traveled
with the classifieds
stopping to check out
cars for sale
sometimes adding another to the
growing collection of clunkers
each sacrificing a bit of its guts
a carburetor here, a steering wheel there
a stick shift, a parking brake
I often sat quietly on a stool
watching him work
in rain, in cold
hour after hour
his labor of love
in pieces more than whole
Poem ©Tricia Stohr-Hunt, 2020. All rights reserved.
You can read the poems written by my poetry sisters at the links below.
Tanita Davis
Rebecca Holmes
Sara Lewis Holmes
Kelly Ramsdell
Laura Purdie Salas
Liz Garton Scanlon
Andi Sibley
I do hope you'll take some time to check out all the wonderful poetic things being shared and collected today by Tabatha Yeatts at The Opposite of Indifference. Happy poetry Friday friends!