It is my friend’s birthday today. Rhonda is a delight to know and a person to treasure for all her extraordinary talents and skills. Humor rocks her works, tempered with kindness, pathos, and keen observations of life.
In honor of her birthday, I wrote this poem in about 15 minutes. I call it “Rhonda.”
R is for your right hook
H is for howitzer in your purse
O is for the odds your aim could fail–
N is for No way, Jose!
D is for the depth you bury enemies
A is for all the thugs you put away.
Put them all together, they spell Rhonda,
the last word on too many lips to say.
Rhonda? A prayer you might answer yeah or nay—
We know how many times that is
by counting the number of new flower beds
in your mother’s backyard.
Rhonda don’t take no sheets,
it’s too hard to get the blood out,
Rhonda is the hero of the weak,
who walks softly
and carries an iron heart on her sleeve
and a howitzer in her purse.