Phaeton I Poem by robert dickerson

Father said 'No'.
'No, no, no, no, no'!
And gave his fiery head a shake.
But the boy, who was coming of age,
Persisted, saying
'Tomorrow's my birthday-
At what you do with admirable ease
I, too, wish to succeed'.
Should he have resisted?
Probably, but then there'd be no story.

There on the porch of the Eastern pavilion
In the evening before the morning the two stood
Almost touching.
The boy looked up at his father-
Magnificent beyond words
And up into his fathers' eyes.
'Is not my fathers' power
Also captured in my limbs? ' he wondered.
'Father, swear'.
His father looked at his son
Certainly with pride, but through their blue
Drifted doubts like clouds.
'I have made a career, he very seriously explained,
Of chasing mortal maidens
With some success. Content yourself with that-
You will be very good at it, he added, nodding his head.

But the headstrong youth said 'No'.
'No, no, no, no, no! '
He would drive the horses of the sun, this once
It was that, or...or what? Well, never mind.
So the set look fell from the face of glorious Apollo
And the clouds of doubt blew from his eyes
Leaving behind them fields of peerless blue.
And his father looked at his son with pride
Shrugged and not without reluctance handed him the reins
(He was the God of Prophecy, after all)
And as the boy climbed into the amazing, unfamiliar carriage
Whispered 'Godspeed' into the whorl of his ear
While the horses snorted, shook their musical heads
And pawed the ground. hard.