Violet the Noodle-Warrior Part I

There are two things I haven't really explained thus far. One is how I started writing pomes, the other is why this blog is such a luvverly shade of poiple, and they're both to do with Miss Violet, Noodle-Warrior extraordinare. The full story will have to be for another time (bed doth a-call), but she started it all by inspiring me to write this pome, which will be the first of many about my fearless little Noodle-Warrior:

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Violet is a noodle-warrior,
Fiercest of her kind.
Nothing can faze or worry ‘er,
‘Least nothing I can find.

For none can stand before her,
As she wields her awesome noodle.
“Stand an’ fight, ye filthy cur!”
She screams to a fleeing poodle.

Oh Violet, Violet; mighty, mighty, Violet,
Prone not least to comedic violence;
No more fearsome flower have I e’er met!
And thus I must get away and hence -

‘Afore I shits meself!



Now Drinking: Heath and Heather Chamomile and Spearmint, because it's THAT time of night, when I do battle with the Dreadlord Insomnia. Toodles.