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.