This poem is meant to be both humorous and yet serious in that it's meant as an instruction to both fathers and sons. I've always thought that children could learn more from their parents if the subject matter was delivered light heartedly and that in essence is what this poem is about. The most important lesson of course that any parent could pass down to their child is to live regrets be damned.
Homilies meant for my son
Trickle down, better yet rain on me.
I have entreated the years to try their
tricks on me for I like Homer sing only
of dreams, of Apollo, Achilles and the
magic that goes down that old crooked
road but my back remains ready, my fists
lifted to challenge the moon and the
laughter, the laughter lifts me spread
wings resting softly on my aging skin,
to the sun, to the sun I fly to touch its
oh tortured skin. These tales I once
shouted in a room full of friends, the beer
bursting from the pit to my eyes, I can
dance, I can sing, oh Sam won’t you play
it again as I reach out towards her and ask
let us make our way once round the room
to a song that will rest here until all these
trappings are gone.
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