April, 2021
Poetry is a thing now, which is really cool. Not to be left behind I’ve incorporated the existential fluidity of the ALS life into this literary art form. In that spirit I hope to make you feel some of the substance which now dominates my life. I call my poem:
Snot
I know you would rather not
Have to read a poem about snot
That viscosity that spews from your facial hose
Which we kindly refer to as the nose
If you’re forced to blow a lot
The excess by your shirt will be caught
Special issues from mucus if you please
Are faced by us with Lou Gehrig’s Disease
Your nose is stuffed your brain is fraught
What will I do with all this snot
You can’t take the usual approach to flow
Dead motor neurons won’t allow you to blow
A dripping river you are really caught
Until you’re wiped free of all this snot
When you wipe from what I’ve seen
You do your best to keep me clean
But don’t then wipe any other spot
Because I really don’t like the taste of snot
I hack and wheeze and often cough
But nothing ever will get it off
My throat it gurgles a lot
When it’s packed full of intractable snot
How to turn this heavy secretion
Into a thin and healthy excretion
Nebulize that’s the shot
To cough up all this horrid snot
I’ve grossed you out I think that’s it
Good thing I didn’t talk of spit
This bad poem it all came out
From a head full of you know what
See you next time
I love this poem! I can’t stop laughing!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are amazingly accepting of your disease. Now I see where you draw the line. Can’t blame you. Good work on the poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A response:
Mucus is flowing
seeking a place of refuge
a tissue awaits
LikeLiked by 1 person
hahaha Bob that’s priceless. (And Kurt — great snot haiku!)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Bob,
This is fantastic…
Take care
DJM
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad to know the poetic glands are still working perfectly!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such a delightfully snotty poem.
Full of Whitt,
But without spit
And with if the finger does not fit,
the snot you must acquit
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such a delightfully snotty poem.
Full of Whitt,
But without spit
And with if the finger does not fit,
the snot you must acquit
LikeLiked by 1 person
Amazingâ¦..and poetic!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sounds like you’ve embraced the snot as well as the suck!
LikeLiked by 1 person
What Nelson said!!! Smiling at your post and at his comment . . . thanks, both!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love it! Bruce
LikeLiked by 1 person
What’s snot to love of your fabulous poem, except for the desire to blow one’s nose.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your creativity helps me to understand your situation.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Snot laughter filled the room
I wondered how to consume
All the knowledge you imparted.
Planning on blogging how he farted
Will most likely be the next verse
Bring it on! Nothing is too terse
Love you dripping snot or not
Love you Marie
LikeLiked by 1 person
Bob, Your prose is quite fluid not to mention the subject matter. Keep on keeping on.
Rgb
LikeLiked by 1 person
Make me wanna 😤!
(think Isley Bros tune)
Wish you a day of accurate clearance.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Witty little ditty there Bob. Having worked with ENT patients for years I wanted to delight you with some data about snot. Our bodies produce 1-1.5 liters per day! Most of it we swallow and as you know ……if you aren’t able to swallow there never seems to be enough tissue to wrangle it all in! Your sense of humor still shining thru – bless you
LikeLike