Saturday, October 3, 2009

Rhoda writes a poem

You guys probably thought I’d forgotten about the contest, but au contraire. My contest promise was locked in the steel trap of my brain. Unfortunately I lost the key to the trap for a few days, but I found it under the couch, so voila!

Since there were only three entrants, each one has received the grand prize: a poem from the creative mind of MISS RHODA PETERS!


The first winner is a dear friend, Anna Macfarlane, who, is at this very moment in a delicate condition known as being “with child”. And no, that does not count being with her other three children who she is with at this very moment (unless she is locked in her bedroom eating oreos while letting them watch Sponge Bob in the family room.)


How Do I Love Me? 
 
(With apologies to that Barrett-Browning woman who was a pioneer in hyphenation)


How do I love me? Let me count the ways.
I love me to the depth and breadth and weight
My girth can reach, for my lbs. increaseth as
The zygote doth sprout into a fetus
And the fetus blooms into a baby with petal-soft skin.
I love me when my eyes are circled dark
From restless nights, and when heartburn
Doth bubble up and make me burp.
I love me grouchy and hormone laden
I love me laying in bed unmaden.
I love me with a love unknown when skinny
Without this belly and wearing a mini.
I love me with stretch marks,
Smiles, tears, through all nine months; 
and, if God choose,
I shall but love me better after birth.

5 comments:

Anna M said...

wow

what else can be said?

except, maybe

how did you know about the stretch marks most likely caused by said Oreos? Oh I think I shall love me better after birth!

Thanks, LaRhoda!

Dem, Mem and Them said...

Rhoda, it was a true masterpiece. I am sad I was not entered in time.

melanie said...

What a great tridute to motherhood!
Love your blog.

LaNell said...

And to think, that's really just the beginning....

laurie said...

I am so happy for you Anna. Let me tell you though it is so much easier on your body to get babies through grandmahood:)

Rhoda, you are a poet savant!

I hope I was a winner, I can't remember,(part of being a grandma).