This Sabbath is, likely, a Sabbath
possessing a strength that quite grabbeth
the various lambs
as those might be hams
whose tenderness equally nabbeth.

The mystical facts we design
may tend toward some semblance of spine
as backbone seems risky
for turning too disky
to let all computers gulp wine.

Depictions permit us to be
in touch with the land and the sea
and also to fashion
some purple-ish passion
as bright as a bird that can ski.

A song that's now singing itself
has notes as performed as a shelf
on whose perfect edging
are bound to be wedging
the penitent cries of an elf.

The alphabet fosters much merging
with this -- this example of splurging
inherently like
some purposive spike
about to redeepen our dirging.

Some times and some places decree
that someone possesses a flea
as Jumpy as Hoppy
while seeming thrice floppy
or likely to oútbuzz each bee.

Compelling the stars, sun, and moon
to play us a jollier tune
might seem to enkindle
as sorry a swindle
as ever was part of a rune.

Some sneezes that happen at lunch
appear to contribute a bunch
of beautiful sprayings
whose wonderful bayings
might pose all the jokes in some scrunch.

Some ketchup remains on the plate
on which I reshared with my date
large bundles of pleasure
beyond each fine measure
implying much life really great.

A dog I'd encountered, say, twice
thrice bayed at the world's good advice,
which often would soften
each cough in a coffin
whose life shook three dice, then grew rice.

Our freedoms are like all the water
in which might persist son or daughter
as such mere, mere folk
might state some new joke
involving the splendors of slaughter.

Dame Eunice and I shared plum bagels
while handling an airbrush of Nagel's,
and Nagel walked by
while scoping my thigh,
a thing Eunice gladly bedraggles.

Some juices that flow and reflow
compel many worlds to form snow
whose thickness and denseness
are utter intenseness
compounding the depth of all woe.

Alliances often seem formed
to keep certain cities as warmed
as bees in a bonnet
entreating some sonnet
to be (and re-be) something stormed.

The shortest old day of the year
appears to have given a sneer
whose infinite beauty
precludes no real duty
that might not outdog how we veer.

A tricycle stands by the door
and nearly projects toward each floor
a sense of outshining
the wining and dining
of natures all natures deplore.

A kiss is the sweetest old thing
in worlds whose main life is a fling
whose uppermost stories
impinge on all glories
whose measures outsing every ding.

Some glory may enter each hour
whose moments exhibit a power
as much like the notion
mere life is a potion
as love might resemble a flower.

A year that approaches our benches
is offering up some new stenches
each one of which tells
all sources of smells
fresh ways to redig sundry trenches.

I'm seldom at any huge loss
for language that might seem to toss
the world toward a salad
as fine as some ballad
encumbered by ultrathin moss.

Hello and good-bye, little world
of seeming to stay boyed and girled
in manners and fashions
whose finite new passions
invite each ripe dream to seem swirled.

Famed smiler was Greta -- a star
whose films bellied up to a bar
that deemed her "amazing
at forming a phrasing
as perfect as manna or tar."

As Nature had been hardest truth
endowed with rich formats of youth,
I took out my hanky
(and almost seemed cranky)
twixt sips of quite ersatz vermouth.

Much meaning informs what we write
and thus quite permits any kite
the absolute hono[u]r
of telling each conner
that languages ne'er may be trite.

I'm quite a consumer of figs
and often would dance merry jigs
in honor of sweetness
whose wondrous repleteness
could foster vast buildings of rigs.