Thanks to divine intervention, I’m out of my six-month slump. Had to get a great big kick in the ass from God for me to stop being depressed. ) The cure was brutal, but it worked. But I’ll save that story for some other time.

What’s a little disturbing at the moment is the fact that I seem to have shifted—from the Angst-Ridden, Existentialist Would-Be Poet Suffering from a Massive Case of Mental Constipation to Little Miss Sunshine. Oh the horror. 

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I’ve been getting some encouraging feedback about ”For Dui, On Her Birthday.”  At least fifteen people gave the thumbs up. Which is a numerical milestone for me, considering the small (very small) handful of friends who give me their occasional comments and  suggestions on my ”real” poetry.

Now that I think about it, I got more rave reviews from my friends and family over my kiddie poem than over my “real” poetry. 

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It was my niece’s birthday yesterday. Thought it would be fun to write her a silly birthday poem. Kudos to Dr. Seuss, one of my earlier poetic influences. Now that I think about it…does anyone want to commission a birthday poem? Heheheheheheh.
FOR DUI, ON HER BIRTHDAY

Rattle the salad forks! Bang on the gate!
For today is the day that Dui turns eight!
Today is a marvelous day, yessiree!
Today is a day of splendiferous glee!

This spectacular day entitles you to:
The services of Mrs. Amelia Fu
and Mr. Von-Woodle-Von-Strudel-O’Hare
Our two Birthday Specialists, Extraordinare
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