Van Gogh Died Broke Too
Editors keep rejecting me.
But someday it’s to be,
that I’ll be in Shakespeare’s stead;
appreciated only when dead.
Though publishers keep saying no,
I’ll be Edgar Alan Poe;
All my countless years of slavin’
will pen something like The Raven,
a posthumous masterpiece.
This earthly mission won’t cease.
Richard Sponaugle was born 4-20-60 in Maryland and raised in Northern Virginia. He received a BA from George Mason University. A prolific poet and songwriter, he has been published in many venues.
Interesting words - giving the reader some insight as to the waiting game. Sometimes we are at a stand still waiting - really make one tired - doesn't it!
ReplyDeleteRhoda Galgiani
Hi Richard,
ReplyDeletePlease don't cut off your ear. To be dead and famous or alive and obscurely penniless - that is the question? It would be a shame to die with great expectations unrealized. Love your poem. I think if you keep up that talent you just might not have to die. I think you're great.
Kathy
perhaps it's better living wilde, being born as sunday's child, than watching from beyond the vale, some reading once your words from gaol...
ReplyDeleteThank you, Jack Clubb, for the following comment--
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the rhythm, rhyme and general cleverness of this poem. Whether we have 15 minutes of fame or 15 centuries, it really doesn't matter. The joy is in the doing.
Dear Rick,
ReplyDeleteI have to agree with Jack on this one. It is in the process of writing and the friendships we make through that process that bring us the greatest joy.
Karen