by D K Mitchell

Created on: April 13, 2010

My mother gave it to me,

One of the few lessons truly learned,

The creative side developed,

As the housework lay unturned,

We sewed and wrote and painted and more,

Anything to avoid the chore!

Like trimmings on a pretty dress,

The adjective describes,

Lessons learned were not a waste,

As impressions portrayed arrives,

Descriptive passages on the passing of time,

Reveal some long held thoughts,

Crafting them into passable rhyme,

Offering others their reports,

When creativity bugs and pushes,

In an artful way,

The divinity of man today,

Comes reason for the stay,

Raw talent is rare; most need to hone their skill,

No-one ever reaches the top without pushing up the hill,

My creativity never leaves, merely changes tack,

Today I am a writer, tomorrow the artist is back,

Some say creativity is a sign of loneliness,

But I’d rather be alone than daily forced to impress,

I whip words to frenzy,

Fastening thought that’s on the run,

Holding onto passion,

While poking fun at some,

I dip a brush into the ink,

That depicts a life or two,

Distort and colours fashion,

To tune with but a few,

I dance with demons daring them,

To stay too long around,

And fooling with intention,

Pure goodness will be found,

I lash some laughter to the mix,

Though sparingly for sure,

A talent others better fix,

My philosophy to lure,

When a scene imparts its woe,

A mind pic catches time,

And prints in on my brain,

To later develop rhyme,

When visual awe is sighted,

With colours pouring through,

I move to canvas and brush,

Impressing quite anew,

Creativity is not limited,

Not boxed or under restriction,

A wide expansive expression,

We may all participate in.

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