The Sea of Dreams

 By the carved, Magic door on the Eastern shore
Of the vast, black Sea of Dreams;
I call to my Muse( through a haze of bad booze)
But I hear only seabirds' screams.

While the waves kiss the beach, my muse stays out of reach
Plays the old game - hard to get
So I board my canoe, shout out "I don't need you!"
And get ready my literature net.

I paddle along, croon an oldScottish song,
But my Muse hasn't finished her antics
Throws  a weird metaphor, sets alight the carved door
Accuses ME then of being  pedantic!

Catch political speeches stuffed with really bad cliches
Original thoughts are so few  
But with one final cast, I caught this one- at last!
So allow me to share it with you.