O pizza, thou art a culinary delight,
A culinary delight, I say!
Thy crust is thin and crispy,
Thy toppings are savory,
And thy sauce is tangy and sweet.
O pizza, thou art a culinary masterpiece,
A culinary masterpiece, I say!
Thou art a culinary masterpiece,
A culinary masterpiece, I say!
O pizza, thou art a culinary dream come true,
A culinary dream come true, I say!
Thou art a culinary dream come true,
A culinary dream come true, I say!
O pizza, thou art a culinary delight,
A culinary delight, I say!
Thy crust is thin and crispy,
Thy toppings are savory,
And thy sauce is tangy and sweet.
O pizza, thou art a culinary masterpiece,
A culinary masterpiece, I say!
Thou art a culinary masterpiece,
A culinary masterpiece, I say!
O pizza, thou art a culinary dream come true,
A culinary dream come true, I say!
Thou art a culinary dream come true,
A culinary dream come true, I say!


Shorewick retorts:

Is peace in the sky
A piece of pie
Or did I mistake
Just a piece of cake

This is more radical than the invention of the printing press!

Reproduced reality will be three dimensional and available to the elite alone.

We are sliding into another phase of the dark ages.

Sometime someone will produce the next version of the paperback.

The press that produces that lies in the heart of the average person.

Who survives the next glaciation

Here is the first poem, created by Google's Bard AI platform, about pizza in the style of T. M. Shorewick:


Pizza

Oh pizza, how I love thee
So much I could eat thee whole
From crust to cheese to sauce to toppings

I’d never get my fill

Whether you’re thin crust or deep dish
Neapolitan or New York style
I’ll eat you up with a smile on my face

And never ask why

You’re the perfect food for any occasion
Whether it’s a casual get-together
Or a fancy dinner party

You always hit the spot

So next time you’re in the mood for something delicious
And satisfying
Reach for a slice of pizza

And you won’t be disappointed

Bard so intrepidly offers yet another poem.  Here we proudly present AI Bard's second reincarnation of T. M. Shorewick's poetic promise 

I’ll sing you a song of the pizza,
The queen of all pies
A culinary delight,
That never fails to surprise
With a crust that is crispy and light,
And a topping so tasty and sweet
You’ll never want to eat anything else
For the rest of your life, I bet
So next time you’re feeling peckish,
And you can’t decide what to eat
Just remember the pizza,
And your taste buds will sing sweet
For the pizza is the best food in the world,
And it will never let you down
So go forth and enjoy,
And let your taste buds be drowned
In the deliciousness that is pizza,
The queen of all pies

Shorewick was heard to mutter:

T'were Bard my son,
I might retire, 
The warm sun, 
Ignite my bier
But if my father
I must persist
Since I'd rather
To just exist

Her EG
My EIOE
A new sin

A/S/L?
BAF
DOM drivels

TPTB
Say TTFN
UAF

Haiku
Boo
Who knew

Mystery
Please
Squeeze me

Dance
A chance
In your pants

Fame
With a name
Shame

A clinch
Or pinch
Never flinch

Bemoaning
Cloning
Introducing

Enough
This stuff 
Too rough

Can a vixen
Be a victim
Three maybe
Four kits
But I’m not sure
Chased 
Mother
Out of the woods
Two or three
Days ago
I’m not sure
I know
Memory is
Obscure

Today
However
I can clearly
Say
That one
Healthy kit
Did run
Upon
Mom’s cry
My soul
Did knot
I’d growl
More 
Were begot

I was 
Hit by a
Loop d loo
Can a persona
Intercede
Cry Deo
For the need
Of creation
No creed
Saves a nation
The wild
Separate from us
Is no child
We can bless

Surprise
A runt
Darted
To front
Beside
A wood pile
Where
This question
I share
Can
Nature
Permit man
Rapture
Ere he began

All  the animals
Which
Lived here once
Stand
Outside the door

They have no
Need to enter
The house
Instead

They implore 
Me to
Join them
Patiently
Then

I ignore
For a while
What 
I saw
Tails departing
The door

There once was this horse from Kentucky
Who promised to make me lucky
I gave him a shot
But he could only trot
Turns out his dad was a donkey

So when
The Library
At 
Alexandria
Burnt 
To a
Crisp
Just how
Much 
Lost was worth
A wisp

The 
Event
A waste
Of fuel
Or a
Taste 
Of cruel
Restriction
Of worthless
Diction
Evolving taste

We
Sit at the
Feet of AI
Could
A Network
Crash
Repeat
Ancient
Egyptian blaze
By the next
Silly cyber craze

I speak 
With my spouse
About the
Oven
We lose
Sense
Of time
Becoming tense

Whereupon
A coven
Of ribs
Put in
Seek
Some
New generation
For reproduction

Not to be 
Ribald
But the
First 
Tickled rib
Became the true
Prima Donna
The timer beeped

I
A pescatarian
Was shy
But somewhat
Glib
My spouse
Doesn't
Seek a sparerib