Nope. No Poem Here. Absolutely Not. Why Would You Want to Read a Verse About Asparagus and Nose Hairs. Move On. Poem 29 of #VerseLove

I loved Glenda Funk's (best last name, too) prompt to explore what a poem is and what it isn't, and when I woke up at 3 a.m. to pee (after eating asparagus for dinner), I knew what thing poetry should never be about, so I earmarked it in my head. I've also been working this children's story in my head about the 'land of Nopes' so have a lot of nada no nope-naying kicking around. The one failure in this draft, though, was that I wanted the HAI in HAIR to be a haiku, but I'm over by a syllable.

I also love that Glenda responded that I could have gone after belly button funk, too. This is why I love VerseLove. I'm always surprised by the feedback that comes my way...the advice and appreciation. Never even thought of belly-button verse, but could have (who remembers my bleeding belly button from the early 2000s? I do)

Ah, but this is absolutely non-poetic today. That's intentional.

This Is Not a Poem

~b.r. crandall

nada no nope

(urine trouble, Crandall…

you piss-head dope)

This should never be 

a 3 a.m. stream of consciousness

poem puddled with asparagus perfume

to disrupt anyone’s flow…

…You’ve yet to write the colonoscopy sonnet.

nada no nope

(urine trouble, Crandall…

you piss-head dope)

No! This can never be a plucking

O de to nostril picking

S poken word-probing,

E pigram licking  - 
H arvested haiku of

A biotic cilia - nor an

I lllumination of a

R aucous villanelle.

…who needs the phlegm-flavored tanka, anyway?

nada no nope, Crandall

chicken-nugget turd dope.

This will never be a poem!

Poems have purpose…

possibility…

like the Robin’s nest

you found

built & extended 

with Diandre’s 

purple weave…

…like the might & magic

of the ant

you watched 

carrying Karal’s

IAMS from 

kitchen floor

to the

formicidae 

keg-fest

outside.

…like the white-breasted

nuthatch hitchhiking 

two miles on your shoulder

as if an emblem

there’s poetic meaning 

to any of this.

Nope nada no, Crandall

this poem’s a definite no-go.

Stick with those flowers & stars,

more apropos.

This is definitely not a poem.