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,
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
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.
rosewriter3 