Take every notion, feeling, experience and expectation that you have on poetry and throw it up in the air, just take everything you've known about it and toss it aside. Not because the boundaries of what makes it so are being broken and not because simple fundamentals and poetic structures are being altered, no that's not it at all. Simply take a deep breath, relax and remember that nothing is off limits, nothing is too right or too wrong or completely outside the box(pun totally intended). So untie that metaphorical bow, put your hand on the corner and open the book and take in that fresh page aroma and all the splendid ''flavors'' that is poetry.
The Last Meal
A nice fine steak perhaps?
With potatoes and corn on the side
Its whatever the heart or rather stomach desires
Such a choice of food to be eaten
The selection is made
Of roast with stew and beans
Odd perhaps but that was the choice
With banana pudding on the side
Oh how food must taste
When it's the last you'll ever eat
the tongue must be ecstatic
the taste buds on a high
After the meal is finished
Its back to the cell to await
The sensation of flavors still linger
The mind even savors the thought
The time has come, judgement day is here
To sit in the chair and become a steak
Actually wasn't it roast with stew and beans?
That's right, with banana pudding on the side