Wednesday, April 16, 2008


Out of the chair, flew this fine, yellow dust.
"What is this stuff?" I yelled out in disgust!

I pried, pulled and scraped at it, staples went flying,
Pliers, and screwdrivers the tools of my trying.

Deeper and deeper I dug at the chair.
Yellow dust covered my clothes and my hair.

A mask and safety glasses would have been smart,
To protect my eyes, my lungs and my heart.

The carnage was ugly. A mess I did make.
Rotten foam, torn up lining, tacks and a cake. (Not really, just needed to rhyme!)

I made twenty cents in the deal there's no doubt.
Like finding buried treasure amid a pile of gout.
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Now all that remains of this once loved chair
Is some wood and some springs and some slightly stale air.

4 comments:

THE WADE FAMILY said...

PRICELESS!!!!!!!

Katie said...

Very impressive, especially all the rhyming. Now, if I could just have some of that cake.

briy said...

Since when are you a poet, weirdo? :)

Just kidding, I loved it. Especially the cake non sequitir. But I don't understand. What are you going to do with the frame? Re-cover it?

AHH! Remember what I wrote about the Korean plague-- yellow dust? WHAT IF IT'S THAT?!

Love you! I'm gonna call you this weekend sometime, so I hope you're around.

Lisa Lou Hoo said...

This is friggin hilarious! You are CRAZY and an excellent poet by the way- who knew? Any more secret talents?