Waiting For The Moment

Whoa To Me, Oh whoa is Me

I question once again, if I will ever be

A writer, an author, a seller of books

From here in the valley, I don’t like how it looks


I look to the heavens, and bring down a verse,

But to my dismay, it doesn’t fill up my purse!

I sail through the skies with eyes full of glitter,

While my pockets continue to contain only litter


But lo and behold, I keep trying to succeed,

And it isn’t just admiration I seek, or greed

I hope to fill someone’s eyes with something I relate

Just to make them happy, so it is never too late


I twiddle my pen and scratch a few lines

Sit behind my desk and utter some whines

And put out whatever I hope will be read

And am not nearly as full of duress as I said


Instead I know that there is always a hope

Although admiration is a long ways off the scope

And acknowledgement is a better reward anyway

So I’ll keep making sentences that I hope will stay


I’ll be thrilled with the words and the images I create

All that other stuff will just have to wait

I have too much to say, too much to unveil

Success is in the dreams that I presently sail


Barbara Blackcinder

About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a hunger for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and especially mine when you read those from me.
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6 Responses to Waiting For The Moment

  1. Jane Watson says:

    You already are a writer and an author, Barb. This blog shows that! Happy Festive Season, Barb – life in the valley can be just as beautiful as the mountain top 🙂

  2. Hey, Barb, just keep hangin’ ’round Book Island—we’re All gonna be glowin’ in the Heavens—some day 🙂

  3. *Adore* how the word ‘whoa’ is fiddled with 🙂 and the journey from the valley to the skies to the seas.

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