The Visible Spectrum of Life (Fathers' Day Poem)

I wrote the first Fathers' Day poem below last year. This year I wrote another poem dedicated to my father, expanding on the inner world of The Weathered Monument.

The Weathered Monument (Haiku)

Eyes filled with laughter,
Love wrapped in blue, tempered steel,
Memories of Dad.

The Visible Spectrum of Life
by Mary Naylor

A prism spins in the sun,
Flashing colors, some intense, some subtle.
Life's prism revealed other sides of Dad, not just one,
At times bold, and other times gentle, as if in rebuttal.
My father was a pilar of strength,
A policeman, a soldier, an heroic fireman, an accountant,
Papermill worker, Dad went to all lengths
To feed us. He was a living fountain
Of energy as he sheltered and protected us.
As the prism of life spun, it revealed the hidden side of him,
For Dad was a storyteller. Eyes twinkling,
a wide grin on has face, he told us of his
Adventures as a boy. He and his friends would fling
Watermelons sneaked from the garden to the ground,
Then pluck out the juicy red hearts
Savoring each succulent bite. They ditched school
On hot, sunny days to swim in the river,
Diving from tall trees into waters that sparkled like jewels,
Dropping from heights that made them shiver.
Dad ran away from school and home to join the circus.
He became a child acrobat and learned to swing from a trapeze.
The police took him home as family and school fussed,
While Dad begged, let me stay, please!

THE GLAD CIRCUS*

Years later, in his senior years, Dad built a miniature circus
And was invited to display it in surrounding towns.
He made it out of bits of stuff
Nobody wanted, but it made children laugh, instead of frown.

Step inside the world of The Weathered Monument,
And you'll hear a burst of circus sounds.
Go past the Monument's battered walls worn, by Fate's blows, dented,
Scarred, yet inside, laughter and merriment abound,
Step up into a world, circus tented,
Where a living rainbow may be found.

Experience bends life
Like a prism bends light
Revealing that which is hidden.

*The name of the circus, Glad, was formed by the first letter in the names of
his youngest daughter and three of his grandchildren.