The Perfect Painting
I can see him in my mind,
I can see his proudly arched neck, draped with
I can imagine his powerful limbs, bunched beneath him,
He seems to come alive in the painting,
Even, I can see it now, the stallion framed and hanging on a museum wall,
Yet, only I can see him; in my mind alone he lives.
08/18/00
That Fresian stallion, dark as the night he gallops through.
That bold, stunning, and gorgeous equine...
That long, luxuriously wavy mane,
His chiseled head, framed by that windblown forelock,
And his chin tucked to his chest, but his head cocked slightly to the side,
As if he is making sure to get a good look at you...
Both forelegs off the ground,
His beautifully feathered hooves held in mid-prance,
His hind hooves digging in the ground with the force of his motion,
And finally his seemingly endless tail, billowing behind him...
Every muscle bulging, his coat gleaming in the moonlight,
And a special sparkle in his eye.
With his name on a plaque beneath him:
"Regal Defiance", (Reggie for short)...
I wish I can paint him for all to see...
But maybe I already have.
While wishing I was a decent painter and envisioning a horse I would paint if I was, I wrote down this description, thinking it might help in some absurd way. But it started to sound poetic, so there you go. I did attempt to draw this guy, and you'll find Reggie in the miscellaneous art section; however, he's still not quite right. Ah well.