Koe Whitton-Williams
December 28, 2008 at 5:11 pm - Reply
I’ve read everything on your blog back to I’m addicted to diet coke. . . admittedly only a half-dozen or so postings and I have to say – I laughed, I cried, I got thirsty. You’re an excellent writer. . . I can only hope about half these things are true and the rest are just your imagination working overtime.
Koe, they are all true. There is more but I thought no one would believe me. It’s been this way most of my life which probably explains my sense of humor.
I’m pleased you like my writing, really very pleased.
My heart sings out for Emily, The butterfly who was to be. Her many legs, her bulbous eyes, The way her mien can seem so wise. Emily has left this coil Where cold winds blow and storm clouds roil. Her life inside was bright and brief. Her passing brings a child grief. But Emily, your siblings chew On leaves and grasses cov’red in dew. When spring unfurls its sunny days, And mornings glow with golden haze, We’ll see them there, both near and far, And capture one inside a jar.
Redhead Ranting is the rantings of a frazzled, twice divorced mother of two who freelances and cares for two stupid dogs while writing her memoir against incredible and unbelievable odds (but will make a wonderful book one day).
You’re due for a couple or six months of good things to happen.
I’m all for that!
I’ve read everything on your blog back to I’m addicted to diet coke. . . admittedly only a half-dozen or so postings and I have to say – I laughed, I cried, I got thirsty. You’re an excellent writer. . . I can only hope about half these things are true and the rest are just your imagination working overtime.
Koe, they are all true. There is more but I thought no one would believe me. It’s been this way most of my life which probably explains my sense of humor.
I’m pleased you like my writing, really very pleased.
I was going to write a longer comment, but I just have to say that my word verification for this session is, in fact, “session”.
I’ll be back later.
Ode to Emily the Caterpillar
My heart sings out for Emily,
The butterfly who was to be.
Her many legs, her bulbous eyes,
The way her mien can seem so wise.
Emily has left this coil
Where cold winds blow and storm clouds roil.
Her life inside was bright and brief.
Her passing brings a child grief.
But Emily, your siblings chew
On leaves and grasses cov’red in dew.
When spring unfurls its sunny days,
And mornings glow with golden haze,
We’ll see them there, both near and far,
And capture one inside a jar.
NO!!!!!!!! Not the caterpillar!