Booger is a word that is
so very hard to rhyme.
I searched the net and scoured through books…
Only one word did I find.
I found it quick…but rejected it
for this poem that I compose
…about the gooey mucous
that hangs out in my nose.
Should I forsake my booger verse due
to lack of words that rhyme?
There must be some solution to
a challenge so sublime.
Why should it be so difficult
to compose this poem so simple?
Should I compose my verse about
…a scab, a boil, a pimple?
But poems of such innanity
are not what vexes me.
Like Ahab, I chase this Moby Dick
across a rhymeless sea.
I took a break, strolled down the path
that leads into the forest
when, all at once, “Eureka!”
I ran back for my Thesaurus.
“Of course”, I whooped, “I’ll substitute!
Not booger, I’ll use snot!”
The rhymes came quick like Alexander did
slice through the Gordian Knot.
Words like cot and Hottentot
and spot and trot and blot…
Not to mention pot and sansculotte
and others I forgot.
There’s microdot and caveat
And Lancelot in Camelot.
Sadat and Huguenot.
From polyglot to tommy rot
to Johnny on the spot.
And, if you please, forgive me Maine,
there’s also Penobscot.
There’s astronaut and cosmonaut
and fruit like apricot.
And Fields would add “Qumquat!”
But snot is not the poet’s lot.
This topic shows no promise.
Perhaps I’ll write of love’s lost flame
or life or death or hummus?
Should I compose an ode to spring
Or leaves that fall in fall?
A eulogy for folks who’re trampled
….at Christmas in the mall?
Perhaps I’ll tilt at windmills, or rail
…against the latest war,
where death is just a bottom-line
for businessman and whore?
“I think that I shall never see”
Joyce Kilmer aptly said,
“A poem as lovely as a tree”
But now that tree is dead.
It gasps, it chokes, it falls and rots
The cycle not renewed.
We hasten by without a glance
absorbed, we pick and brood.
And Boogers are all different…
like snowflakes it is true.
Some are slimy, others crusty,
some are just plain goo.
King and Queen, Pauper, Prince,
Fool and Saint, and Sinner!
All must heed the clarion call of
“Pick me a Winner!”
To roll ’em and to flick ’em
Is a universal treat.
If one-year-olds could talk, they’d say
“They’re pretty good to eat!”
I tossed my silly poem about
the less than noble booger,
whose only rhyme is (ironically)
A word as Sweet as Sugar!