View Full Version : Poem, and blurb from "for the love of ginnie" by melange author joanne myers

JoAnne Myers
April 5th, 2013, 05:55 PM
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Handsome bachelor and scientist Alex Anderson from the 30th century returns to the Civil War in a daring and loved fueled attempt to save his beloved Ginnie Wade from a sniper's bullet. What he finds is a roller coaster ride of joy and perils.

"For the Love of Ginnie," is an adventerous ride of suspense,intrigue, heartbeak, and mystery all in the name of love.

“Poems About Life, Love, and Everything in Between” is a poetry collection that provides a glimpse into the heart, mind and soul, of its author. It is a heartwarming read, written with love and respect for others. Some poems were written in times of sorrow, other poems were written in times of joyous celebration. Life if like that.
“Poems About Life, Love, and Everything in Between,” is available at
http://www.amazon.com/dp/147837022x (http://www.amazon.com/dp/147837022x)
Murder Most Foul is a four story anthology and available at:
http://www.amazon.com/MURDER-MOST-FOUL-JoAnne-Myers/dp/0980037867/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1363740357&sr=8-1&keywords=murder+most+foul+by+joanne+myers (http://www.amazon.com/MURDER-MOST-FOUL-JoAnne-Myers/dp/0980037867/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1363740357&sr=8-1&keywords=murder+most+foul+by+joanne+myers)

It’s the fourth of July, and I’m complain’n to my daughters.
The A/C don’t work, and the outside is only get’n hotter.
The wind is blow’n, but doesn’t seem to help.
The lucky few with power, say ‘tighten your belt,’
but if they were miserable like me, they’d know how I felt.
Its really get’n old, not have’n power.
Eat’n fast food, and take’n cold showers.
They say it wont be on for many a day.
I say ‘that’s bull crap, and not okay.’
Have’n no electric, is worse then the bees, fleas, and ticks.
Anymore discomfort, and the whole complex will be sick.
My dogs are pant’n, try’n ta stay cool.
I’d taken ‘em to a hotel, but its against the rules.
If I could call Mother Nature, I surely would.
She’s catch’n heck from the whole neighborhood.
It shouldn’t be workmen climb’n power lines.
It’s up to Mother Nature to work overtime.
Then hand her over to Old Father Time,
for a good swift kick where the sun don’t shine.