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Poem

I relish sparring repartee of clever quips...

Particularly, when voicing and/or
writing bon mots doth betake
chuckling clownlike me 
rumbled stilled skin,
and e'en rouses 
this mummified corpse
(asleep for bajillion years) 
among sleepers awake,
where mine inside belly 
doth pleasantly ache

jollity the best medicine 
most thus spoke Zarathustra,
asper nonpareil persona 
American radio broadcaster
Doctor Demento would attest,
one need not buy, 
nor spend real or "FAKE"
money, yet brilliant come
back (as averred by
unnamed modest chap) 
sweeter than New York cheesecake

moist definitely more 
delectable than grubstake
jamming gobstopper with 
yodels, ring dings,
or mouth size edible 
chocolate candied drake,
a propensity for parrying 
thrusts humorously recently
adopted, though occasionally 
embarrass self,

and perhaps I might 
momentarily even forsake
such wordplay, but 
honing humorous turns
of phrases come roaring
back to partake, and
appease simple pleasure 
inexplicably to satiate
passion with English 
Language and slake

unquenchable thirst 
experiencing euphoria,
vis a vis yours truly 
melding, jump/kick starting, 
forging, distilling
reasonable rhyme
(albeit short lived) giddy 
as if I won sweepstake
this newfound affinity 
with whittling words

manifested during opaque
throes of fatherhood,
when ceaseless parental 
demands sought fast break
from learning to 
accommodate lest stressful
overwhelming anguish 
found me undertake
king oft times frazzled state, 
where among great

anonymous dead poets 
society, posthumous renown
would be small consolation 
for widowed missus,
whose then two little girls, 
(now grown to womanhood)
would inconsolably shake
for ever and anon drowning 
their sweet sorrows,
where profuse tears 
engender lachrymose lake.

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