you kept a jar of sorrows.....opened it often, many tears we've shed

This poem is not the more
traditional fare,
in fact, my humor can
actually scare,
Fartina is a twenty-five
pound, quite pooty dog,
most of the time her
poots make no sound,
But, trust me, your
olfactory sense will
know when she's around.

Debilitating flatulence
emits from her ***,
trust me, you'll run,
it isn't fun-
being in a room with her,
in fact, you'll cuss the little cur,
When salespeople come to
the door,
the only way to get them to
leave, for sure,
is to pretend Fartina is a
well mannered mixed breed,
then, when they pet her,
green clouds arise,
and their faces scrunch up,
no surprise.

She has her own waiting room
at the vet,
because her gaseous emissions
are the worst yet,
so, if you need to give your
in-laws the boot,
give Fartina a burrito,
they'll run, the old coots !!!!!

In the depths, the cool emerald, bubbling depths,
a nuanced singing, a beckoning
so clearly in the brine,
pink coral and sea anemones
waving in currents,
I felt so very gifted in the
charms of the sea.

Slate-colored octopus-
dashed away with tentacles
roiling the sediment,
as schools of timid fish,
as if in flight of aimless
directions displayed bright
colors.

I thought, how could I breathe
without scuba gear-
yet, the fathoms were so deep,
and I swam with ease,
could it be but a woman mariner's dream?
Despite the elation of a humpback whale's calling medley,
I sighted him, a youthful
merman, as if he was
sculpted from God's own
Heaven's marble,
he had a muscular grace
tapered into a lower physique
with pearlescent scales and fins,
sunlight flickering over his
long hair of silken strands
bedecked with seashells,
singing with his oceanic
blue eyes that Poseidon
himself could not match,
and, of all who inhabit
the sea,
he was singing only for me.