Brylcreem and Oil

Brylcreem, Old Spice,

Cherry pipe tobacco and

Motor oil.

 

My hand was always so little in yours

I remember marveling at the difference

Mine pudgy, soft and white

Yours were scarred, callused, and stained.

 

Everything about you was larger than life

You didn’t speak much but when you did

There was this loud booming joy to it

You were my very own Gentle Giant

 

Scarred hands, dark hair,

plaid shirts and

A tire gauge.

 

Oh, now that I’m older I know just how tall

And just how wide, and Deep you were

No more than average I suppose

But even the reality can’t diminish my Memory.

 

Whether I was clinging to your back

While we rode your ’59 Panhead

Or sitting in the dirt, calmly watching

While you rebuilt engines…

You were, are, and ever will be

The greatest Man I’ve ever known.

 

Smooth shiny chrome,

Purring engines and

Night rides…

 

I measure men that I meet by your Standard.

I know it’s probably a little unfair…

You would scold me, and tell me each man

Is his own.

 

Brylcreem, Old Spice,

Cherry pipe tobacco and

Motor oil.

Author's Note

Today would have been my Grandpa's 79th birthday. Happy Birthday Gramps!!

Reviews

[.]

. overwhelming ... i've been missing my maternal grandfather immensely ... on the eve of the beginning of my publishing career ... sometimes i think i should just scream and call out to him ... among other things, he was a poet ... and i wish so much that he could read me ... and the anthology of poems that i'll be publishing soon ... but more than all of that ... i miss him because he would've known my pain and comforted me ... and blessed my love ... and turned it into a blessing ... thank you for this ... i feel somehow ... that through your words ... right at this moment ... that he's there ... somewhere ... in the universe ... and is telling me to be brave ...

[Shimmerbliss/CAF]

Sounds like your grandfather was of the generation of my father. I remember Brylcream billboard signs, and the smell of Old Spice, and nights in the garage smelling sawdust and carpenter's glue. This was a beautiful tribute that touches me and makes me think of all the wonders of my father and his love. You most likely will always measure men you meet by his standard...is that so wrong? Sounds as if he gave you a worthy standard to seek with someone who will not be him, but you will recognize the important similarities. (Just my take on that.) Loved this...makes me sentimental in a beautiful way.

[SpitfireGrrrl]

Thank you so much! And? I think you're right!

[Shimmerbliss/CAF]

I loved this.

[cfix]

I like this, I thought it was wonderful

[Zoe Jay]

This is absolutely gorgeous! The way you bring the details out is understated and tender, and the content is enhanced by the overall simplicity of the poem. This is very vivid, I think particularly because your use of smell as a main anchoring point in the memory. This made me think of my dad, who also repaired engines and smoked pipe tobacco when I was small. I think the beauty of poetry is the ability to share a cherished memory, and have the reader really feel it with you! :-)

I love the phrase "loud, booming joy", it's slightly unusual, yet so graphic and gives the poem a highlight and a great mood. This is a very positive way to remember somebody, it's cheerful and not at all morbid, absolutely excellent! :-)