Poem for today.

The Creative Dream

I dreamed of flying a course

On the back of Pegasus.

A white winged flying horse .

An ancient  mythical creature.

A friend of all muses, 

By Johann Christoph Storer – This file was donated to Wikimedia Commons as part of a project by the National Gallery of Art. Please see the Gallery’s Open Access Policy., CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=81465703

The keeper of the springs 

That well up from the earth.

The creative waters’  birth  

To all our gifts we’re given 

By the ancient deity of Creativity.

I was carried over land and sea

Pegasus,  wings beating 

to the refrains of Apollo’s  musical lute.

Landed safely it stilled my questioning 

All my fears laid silent, all mute

As I allowed my eyes to see 

The lay of the land around me.

All peaceful as green a meadow

Fringed by a forest was a glade 

And Pegasus rested drinking

In those spring waters

 I was not afraid; I did the same

But always curious

as to what I would find

by that small spring ,

it was now mine.

A gift of my imagination

which brings inspiration.

All arts entwined, for here

a picture of musical persuasion

became a classical chorus

in which  voices shared  

A choral choir hour after hour

I sang like a child believing

in my talent of reaching

 the high notes there. 

And my eye and hand

in constant flow created 

A masterpiece of brushstrokes

I so truly loved.

All was gifted to me at the well

Of creativity, so I took  each discipline

experimented with those gifts

Digital attempt of drawing Pegasus

all semi-crystalline, half learnt

I still haven’t mastered

one strain of the Arts.

In my own mind a failure of sorts.

Therefore, all I produce are tarts.

Flat and filled with half the fruit

 of the total work of inspiration

imagined beauty of self-gratification

regardless of the creative persuasion

all are just patchwork in need of attention. 

And so now in my retired years

My days are filled with editing

Stories, poems, and prose

Repainting the so-called masterpieces

and learning how to really sing.

Blessings of age and living

In a first world society

A blessing I now recognized

As those in other situations

Don’t have the freedom

And no time for actualization.

Maybe just maybe the magic

Of the spring still gives.

The well of creativity

Be part of my redoing

Rehashing, rehearsing

revaluing , relining

And revisiting the spring

Of Pegasus dreaming.

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