Friday, June 18, 2010

Oh, the pain!


My family barely notices the hours that I type

They hardly get excited, much less exhibit hype.

They never make a purchase of anything I penned

It’s not like they don’t have money, because I see them spend.

Don’t they feel my talent? Don’t they sense my pain?

Don’t they know their acknowledgment is all I seek to gain?

Do they think I’ve struck it rich or hit the lottery?

Cause when I mention what I wrote, they want to read for free.

I’ll never make a million; of that I’m really sure,

But just one call from Oprah could certainly be a cure.

It shouldn’t be so difficult to hear a little praise?

Would it be so awful to help my spirits raise?

If sis and bro and mother dear and the children of my blood,

Don’t care enough to support me; my name is surely mud!

If they won’t pull out their wallets to buy my latest pub,

Then surely I'm not destined for Ms. Winfrey's great book club.

5 comments:

Roseanne Dowell said...

Great poem! My sentiments exactly.

Viviane Brentanos said...

Oh have I bin there.

Viv

Christine London said...

LOL...isn't it the truth??

Kat said...

LOL same here. I don't think a single member of my family has bought anyone of my books. And who said blood is thicker than water?:-)

Lin said...

Ginger, we love you and we also understand. I want to answer Kat's question. I think it probaly was a vampire that said that. Imagine a vampire sucking water?