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Validation Made
I wasn't voted Most Likely To Succeed,
In high school.
Afterall...
Who would declare,
In 1965 a desire to find success as a writer?
A doctor, a lawyer, a minister?
A fireman?
A basketball or a football star?
Okay!
'What did he say...
A 'writer'? '
Are they laughing at me?
I didn't declare that to get attention.
I knew what I was.
Today I hear 'kids' with wishes to be...
A movie, rap or singing star.
Baseball, basketball...
Or a football great.
Nurses and doctors too.
Afterall, they make 'money'...
That's what I hear them say.
But a writer?
And of poetry?
Are they laughing at me?
'Medic?
We've got one over here.
Delusional and hallucinating.
See what can be done.
If nothing...
Forget it! '
Well...
Very few writers make money,
Doing what they do.
And my name aint Twain, Langston...
Or Maya Angelou!
I did know Zora Neale Hurston's family.
Her brother Edgar, his wife and kids,
Lived in Bellevue Square in Hartford....
As me and my family did.
I grew up with their children.
And Robert, the second eldest son...
Was a good friend of mine.
Oh...
How I hate to name drop!
And fame?
Who said anything about wanting to be famous?
I said I was a writer.
Aint nothing about that has changed.
But I wish I had some bucks for my efforts.
Especially as I've age with a validation made.
poem
by
Lawrence S. Pertillar
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