(I.)
        Only a fool would try, in line by line
        Of fair assessment honestly expressed,
        To paint with words the finest of the fine
Beauties of which you solely are possessed.
        No elegance would not seem spread too thin;
        And he who'd try would never be believed,
        For none would see as truth the truth therein,
But think it all a lover's eyes deceived.
        So candid pics and videos must record
        What speech could never adequately limn,
        And would be doubted elsewise word for word,—
The evidence being hearsay and far too slim.
        Yet, all of these leave much too much to doubt:—
        All flaws would seem, no doubt, photoshopped out.

(II.)
        Like two caves spun with dusty cobweb-snares
        Guarding a cache of emeralds is your nose.
        Your globby eyes find shade 'neath oxen hairs.
Like two thin frowning mustaches are your brows.
        With microscopic mites your shiny skin
        Glints, like a hanging fruit's with aphid flies
        Flitting around about and out and in,
Or a hot, oil-glistened frenchèd fry's.
        Like hard, mini marshmallows are your teeth.
        Your lips, like jellied dextromethorphan.
        Oh! oh! to be that rubber soul beneath
Those knobby tubers made for kicking a can!              
        But here again the painting is askew:
        It lacks that certain something that's in you.

Yes, rubber soul.

I stubbed my toe and yelled out, "****!"
But blessèd be that Irish luck!
For had I not an Irish root,
I would've surely lost the foot!

Be careful when drinking the whiskey:
It leads to behaviors quite risky.
   I once shared a bottle
   With a bicorn hat model,
Then got—with this leprechaun—frisky.

The ballerina's pirouette:
   This is the little triolet.
Within a faëry scene and set
The ballerinas pirouette
To a limpid midnight minuet
   In Thumbelina-esque ballet.
The ballerina's pirouette:
   This is the little triolet.

A banshee once went on a date,—
A dinner.  It wasn't so great:
   She started to cry
   Right across from the guy,
Who then choked and fell dead on his plate.

.
   Beneath a mystic moon an ancient air—
         A melody only
            And lonely—
Is sung by her with moonshine eyes and shadowy hair.
   Across the seas of water and time
         She sings to me.
         Each line and rhyme
         I strangely recall.

         I fall asleep,
         Then wake and creep
   As nightshade over a garden wall;
   And there with all the flowers that bloom
   By moonlight—in the beautiful gloom—
   I start the long journey and hope to come back
   With some of the knowing I knew in the black.