Dear Snow,
You are beautiful and a welcome alternative to the fog that has been hanging around here for two days. I still can't see the sun, or very far in front of my nose, but you make me feel peaceful. Feel free to stick around for a while.
Dear Herman Cain,
I respect that you stepped away from the campaign for the sake of your family, but you were America's only real hope. Please endorse Newt Gingrich, and then get him to make you VP.
Dear Lips,
Please stop getting chapped. I neglect you for what, six hours, and you start screaming at me? You are so high maintenance. You need to figure out how to store up moisture. Either that or I just need to start keeping chap stick in my pocket.
Dear Mac (AKA Old Faithful),
Thank you for finally ejecting that DVD that has been stuck in your disc drive for several days. It was making you start up rather slowly whenever I woke you up from sleeping.
Dear Dad's Migraine,
Go away. As in now. Please and thank you.
Dear Inner-Scrooge,
It takes money to make money. Even though it is a 99.95% chance that you just wasted $25 entering poetry to the Writer's Digest contest, you've got to start somewhere. I think it's typical for writers to hand out thousands of dollars before they see any real return. Don't get discouraged.
Dear Aspiring Writer,
Don't you get discouraged either. Stop second-guessing your chosen anti-career path. Remember, this isn't about you. This is about God. It doesn't matter what other people think of you. It doesn't matter that you aren't going to have a double-doctorate from Harvard. Do what God wants you to do, not what other people want you to do.
Dear Liberty University,
Thanks for not just teaching me facts, but helping me discover what, and Who, really matters in life. I still have a lot to learn, but you've paved over the foundation my parents laid and given me direction.
Dear Kitchen Berserker,
Why are you out to kill our kitchen appliances? First the dishwasher exploded, then the fridge, and now the stove. With a pop and a pop and a bright flash of red light, you have left us with only two functional burners on the electric stove. And they are the small ones, too. I guess we'll have to get creative when making Christmas dinner. From here on out, please leave our kitchen alone (code for: hands off the oven!!).
All my love,
Taeter
8 comments:
dear jack frost: it's not cold enough yet! get crackin'!
Dear Mr. Cain: Who am I supposed to vote for now? Ron Paul?!?
Dear Mattea, I believe it is unfair to submit poetry to Writer's Digest and not post it here for us to enjoy. Otherwise, a very enjoyable post. :)
Dear Josiah,
Per the contest rules, I am not allowed to publish any submitted poetry on the internet :P. However, the next time you come over I would be happy to share it with you.
Is Writer's Digest is run by a bunch of anti-freedom Communists? :P
Now that you mention it, probably! lol
So many posts in one week! It IS Christmas!!! :)
Hey, you must remember you are a published poet, my dear. I believe I still own that issue of Highlights...
I think it's ironic that you kind of have to life like a college kid living in a dorm what with your appliances MIA. You just can't escape the experience, I guess. Your oven story beats ours, by the way, hahaha. Did the house smell electricky after that?
Okay okay so maybe my resume is a little more substantial than I give it credit for =).
Haha, I would love to hear your oven story! If I remember correctly, there was thankfully no smell accompanying our stove blow-out. But it was rather exciting.
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