Rants, Raves, & Random Thoughts

Shameless self-promotion of my writing skills or lack there of.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Poets Anonymous

A post over at Bernita’s yesterday put me in a poetry frame of mind. I had high hopes of pumping out some truly prolific, mind blowing prose, but as luck would have it, I’m not that good a poet. Instead, I decided to recycle one of my favorites from stack of poetry that should never see the light of day I’ve stored away for a rainy day.

Ode to Writers
I answered the call
From my inner voice.
When the muse tickles my ear,
I have no choice
But to put pen to paper, fingers to keys.

And so, the journey begins
With eyes so bright.
Innocence abounds
As my imagination takes flight.

The masterpiece takes shape
And my mind reaches for the stars.
I envision interviews with Leno
And my poetry read in bars.

The book is complete.
I hold it up with trembling hands.
The only thing left
Is for it to find its way to the fans.

I drop queries in the mail
And hope for the best.
My patience and resolve,
Will soon be put to the test.

Still the fantasy remains.
I will be the next big thing.
My fame will surpass
Anne Rice or even Stephen King.

Days, weeks, and months pass
Without so much as a word.
At last, I receive a letter
Written in my hand.
But it only wants to know:
“Why did you send us this turd?”

Well, what do they know?
Perhaps an agent is what I need.
I answer an ad in a magazine.
They like my work and for a small fee,
I will be published in no time,
Just you wait and see.

They had the speed,
I will give them that.
I had a dozen rejections,
In no time flat.

Don’t let it get you down kid,
You’ve written a best seller.
We just have to find it a home,
Get it in front of the right feller.

Just send me more money
And we will be on our way.
I have a question or two
Before we proceed.
I’ve read through your list of publishers,
And I have to say,
You, sir, are a hack, a swindler, and a cheat.
If I had more than P.O. Box
With which to find you,
Your ass, I would beat.

My innocence has been replaced
With apprehension.
My sleep is still filled,
With the first timers dreams.
My words will be read
And hearts will be moved,
Emotions will be stirred.
With a single book,
I could change the world.
Someone, somewhere will read my words
And will be inspired to do great things.

I dream of a series of books,
Translated into a dozen tongues.
I dream of books on tape
And book signings,
With throngs of people waiting
For a signature or at least a glimpse.
I dream of an adoring public
That falls so hard for my characters,
They become a household name.

All of this and more I dream.
No matter what happens,
I will always have my dreams.
My dreams are not goals,
They are fantasies and as such,
They will never be crushed.

I am a slave to the muse,
A whore for her voice.
I am a man that hears voices.
I argue with myself
And put it on paper.
I am a visionary,
A dreamer,
A fiend for the written word.

I am a writer.


At 5:53 AM, Blogger Leslie said...

You're so awesome!

At 6:06 AM, Blogger lime said...

isn't this the 3rd posting of this one? hehee. s'ok. i still like it :D

At 7:12 AM, Blogger James Goodman said...

Thanks, Leslie.

Damn, Lime...I think you may be right. :D I simply must come up with some new material some day. :O

At 10:15 AM, Blogger lime said...

hehehe. btw, what flavor gelati would you like?

At 11:14 AM, Blogger James Goodman said...

I'll take a Cappucino flavored one please. :D

At 5:48 PM, Blogger lime said...

one cappucino gelati coming up! dang...i'm trying to fax it but it's not working very well.

At 7:22 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

At 5:34 AM, Blogger Bernita said...

Great lines, James.
Proud to be your second-hand muse!


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