Assorted responses were given
to how certain looks were ill-shaven.
An ardent, new voice
may fashion a case
implying that sweets are an oven.

You kindle the moon, stars, and sun
by speaking of how you've had fun.
When waxing less shiny
you look like some spiny
example of Nature's last gun.

The verities spoken by man
reveal an unbeatable plan.
An upshot eternal
is something infernal
whose strengths form a "catch-if-catch-can."

However we follow a season,
life somehow produces no reason.
Our ultimate glimpse
soon fastens on blimps
whose everyday purpose is treason.

Insightful are all my fine friends,
for they and I foster fine trends.
My friends may slay glee
in vast parts of me,
but such disrepair quickly mends.

Each natural recourse adduced
a sense of a world worlds kept noosed.
Persistence built people
who climbed any steeple
that offered a yearning kept spruced.

Corrupted by nothing but light,
this planet seems rather all right.
For some things Truth suffers,
but Nature has buffers
that lend many thoughts quite a bite.

Grand ice cream tastes charmingly sweet
and certainly counters hot heat.
In moments of eating
each bowl keeps repeating
strong warnings against which to cheat.

A bowl of icecream is delight
I'd eat it all day and all night
Then I'd be so round
I'd bounce on the ground
And give all about me a fright.

To dwell on this earth is to dream
of eating a bowl off ice cream.
To reach for sweet foliage
brings in the firm knowledge
that razo[u]r blades barely might gleam.

Dreams come in all sorts of forms,
The weird ones, the horrid, the norms
At night or in day
Our minds are at play
Creating imaginative storms.

In touch with quite real sorts of grief,
I now feel bereft of belief.
I gladly would equal
some wonderful sequel,
but Nature has turned all dreams brief.

The fame of my shame mirrors yours,
though no-one finds eminent cures.
We struggle to gurgle
on love, and we burgle
a richness that somewhat endures.

The looking glass mirrors my life
Alhough Jabberwockies cause strife
Tweedles Dum and friend Dee
Give advice for free
To no lady, not even my wife

Our mirrors should reap scant respect,
as sheens of that sort ain't elect.
My face in a mirror
might seem like some jeerer,
yet I still am brave and erect.

The mirror's no longer my friend
The frights it gives me have no end
The sights in that glass
As I casually pass
I wish I could some way amend.

When misery rules all your being
and seems to forbid any skiing,
take hold of a glass
(a mirror), whose sass
might cattily pull you toward treeing.

When sorrow's huge rope you are dragging
And strangers you'd rather be fragging
Recall fun just in being
And go water-skiing
With out-board canoe and stop lagging!

Canoes are a great way to float
I think they are my kind of boat
Although I may shiver
When out on the river
I keep myself warm with a coat.

We seldom admire what we should --
though all of our senses seem good.
Our heads stay too addled
to seem to have paddled
canoes made of very firm wood.

The timidness each man exhibits
reminds many worlds of their gibbets.
Some folks are far stronger
than others, though longer
is sorrow's huge rope, which inhibits.

My lines don't occur nice 'n slow,
yet often they show worlds some glow.
I sit here in heaven
and notice Sir Kevin --
a partner in wiggling a toe.

My verses tend not to form swiftly
When my head and my heart are adriftly
On seas full of tumult
And thus here's the result
My rhyming is causing a riftly

Some verses began quite swift forming
that happily mirrored huge storming.
Great birthdays had found
much sensitive ground
for hoopla as grand as most warming.

A law against poverty now
is plowing right here with its prow.
When golfing or sailing,
you must keep impaling
your life on the sacredest cow.