Fame
Will this poem make me Famous?
I’ll have to wait and see;
Like cookies did for Uncle Amos,
Or Uncle Miltie for TV.

Will It bring me Riches?
All my wishes will be fulfilled;
I could scratch whatever itches,
There’s money in the till.

Will it make me Happy?
I’ve forgotten what that’s like;
I’m so tired of feeling crappy,
Like a third wheel on a bike.

Will I get Respect at Last?
Like that famous Aretha?
Will people clamor ‘round me,
Asking all about my past,
Wanting to know who found me?

Will Fame affect me, change my Style?
Well, perhaps just a bit,
I'll sign an autograph once in awhile,
After all, I am a Hit !

Will it get me a Weekly Series?
Will Neilson rate me Number One?
The whole Country’s writing queries,
What do I DO to have some fun?

Yes, Fame is what I strive for,
Why I’m writing every day;
Yet, There’s one thing I know for sure
I’d gladly chuck it all away!

Although Fame is what I’m after,
What I really want is you;
I live to hear your laughter
And see you all day through.

Fame is for the Lonely -
That’s a fact I never knew;
I want not Fame, but only
To Live inside of You.

But I invent Romances,
Where None are to be found,
I create those lonely Dances,
To eerie, haunting sounds.

So what is left for me, but Fame?
It’s in the Master Plan;
You Love Me not, I’m not to blame,
At Least you’ll be a Fan.

All will read this silly Rhyme,
It’s all part of the Game,
But it’s you I write for all the Time,
Yes it’s you that brings me Fame.


Copyright © Donna Maris
January 2000 All Rights Reserved