Bowling With My Dad
Today if I could
I would meet my dad
at the Bowlero
Inhale the smooth scent
of oil hot rubber beer fried
feel a bit shy renting shoes
when he has his own
a beautiful ball too
the fancy bag to hold it all
I’d let him type our names
on the flat-lettered keyboard –
marvel at them
Dad Vanessa
The thwack and deep hollow
crack of ball hitting pins I’d
press into my skin
absorb his skills
his hip hike
the way his back foot
points left when his right
arm points forward
I’d swallow his perfect balance
three cracked bowling pins
line up like old memories
I feel your spirit
POETRY TONIGHT!
Tonight at 10:30pm EST/7:30PM PST, I’ll be joining poets at Planet Earth Poetry’s virtual open mic! I’ll be reading the ekphrastic poem I wrote that won me an honourable mention (woot!) as well as a couple other poems about spring. Please join us! Thank you Planet Earth Poetry for inviting me to read!
To join the virtual open mic – that is to sign up to read, click HERE.
To join the virtual open mic as a supporter/listener, click HERE. *You must register to get the zoom link.
Happy Friday, writers!!
VANESSA SHIELDS, writer 
three cracked bowling pins line up like old memories
Wonderful metaphor!
When I bowled with my dad I wrote our names on the score sheet in pencil. In the early 80s in an after-work bowling league, I used a crayon sort of thing and wrote on clear acetate so the scores could be projected above our lanes. Your work certainly makes one think, remember. M
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Thanks Vanessa, I’ll be out tonight. I’ve had “ the vaccine “ and friends who also had the shot Have invited me for supper. Love your poem”,Bowling With My Dad”
Sent from my iPad
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