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Silly Sunday whirl, I couldn’t help it.

I started off taking the words seriously. Words like “blessed” and “snare” and “deserves” are serious words, aren’t they? But then I had a visit to one of my most favorite places in Vancouver, Southlands Nursery, and found these wonderful seed packets.

Now I know deep down, and I know you also know that these seeds will produce the same radishes, peas, etc as the not-so-wonderful seed packets, but don’t you think there could be something “Jack and the beanstalk” in a packet like this?

So, as long as the silliness is all around everything’s alright with the world.

022 copy

blue, blessed, deserves, first, gasps, instant,
slap, snare, dust, unbalance, ride, wings

Here’s a first!

Let’s pretend that we’re an upholstered sofa grown on a sofa farm somewhere in Middle America by two fat-bottomed sofa farmers and their ten blessed children.

We’ll be shiny and new and have spring in our step and cushion in our fall and not a speck of dust on our creamy body.

Maybe we’ll live in a lovely parlor room with lovely ladies who do tea, crumpets and cakes and they will believe that a lovely sofa like us deserves adoring gasps and dainty things and adorn us with petit point pillows.

Then again we might live in a conference room feeling the unbalance of arguments from each side, hearing the slap and snare of verbal fights between husbands and wives who’ve lost the kind perspective in relationships.

Or we could live in a dark basement, our fabric flickering blue from the glow of the TV set, our middle sagging from the weight of so many teenagers piled on top like bushels of rosy apples.

After one of their drunken parties they may give us wings and carry us on their shoulders to some new and exciting place, like the middle of a park under a shady tree so we can sit and watch people passing by, our creamy fabric slowly turning green in the rain.

People will see us in an instant and stare wondering what we are doing and maybe they will come close and inspect us hoping to find a message in our decaying fabric.

And maybe the fat-bottomed farmers will ride by with their ten blessed children and they will wonder what their sofa is doing now.

But we won’t have to say anything. People rarely expect unexpected sofas to explain their actions.

Comments: 15

  • March 3, 2013

    I’d like to be sitting in the park under the tree. This is so creative, Veronica.

  • March 3, 2013

    Fits the bill to a Tee… great metaphor!

  • March 4, 2013

    I will second Stan, great use of metaphor in this very interesting tale, Veronica.


  • March 5, 2013

    I know it was fun, I can hear it in the words, how they flow and dance across the page. You must have been smiling the entire time, I was while reading it. Periodically, I feel driven to do the same, we must all get out and play or grow dull and boring.


  • March 5, 2013

    Veronica, that last line is real keeper! “But we won’t have to say anything. People rarely expect unexpected sofas to explain their actions.” Almost made me laugh out loud (I’m at the office, have to be a bit more subdued…) A very fun read. Thank you! 🙂

  • March 5, 2013

    Veronica. I smiled throughout. Because your work makes me feel glad to be alive so I can read it! Well done.

  • March 6, 2013

    I think I am just writing a version of “what they said”, bit this was a lot of fun. The last line was awesome!

  • March 9, 2013

    What a wonderful time! I love this poem – you went in a great direction. I decided to experiment this week, and wrote two lines a day. Today was Day #6, so it’s all over at last. You can find it at:

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