Bouts Rimés (or punctured poems)
Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?
No wonder there are keel marks on her lips

Full fathom five thy father lies
I pushed him. I apologise

Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast
That's why I keep a flute tucked in my vest

I think that I shall never see
My contact lens fell in the tea

I'll take you home again, Kathleen
That last martini turned you green