I wrote this for my Poetry and Poetics class at the College. It is crap, I will admit, but I'll put it up here anyway. I'm sure someone out there will want to read it.
"The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese." - G. K. Chesterton
Of all the songs and poems read by men,
Have none composed or sung of one like thee?
Of you there is no equal dish, why then
Have they who sing and write and croon for me,
Forgotten how you taste and warm the sea
That is my heart, or how you give my life
Complete control of all my faults, and be
What all the saints desire for their strife?
(No wonder Ham is seen as your fair wife)
Though none have sung about your grace and pride,
Your smell when you are found to be too ripe,
I take my queue and turn about inside.
A verse is sung, for you do give and please,
And thus a rhyme about my love, my cheese.