[Allen Tice]

O tempura, o customs! I have a need to write an apologetic poem, slightly amusing if possible, about the tragedy of a late 20th century halitosis of mine (now hopefully held at bay); which (lest anyone not be informed) can be caused by undiagnosed GERD [gastric esophageal reflux disorder], spicy food, weak oral hygiene (is it I? No!), excessively sated male longing (is it I? Hardly), archaic marihuana smog (well, hardly ever), and malicious GERD. Do I repeat myself ? Very well, I repeat myself. Yet I lack ideas on how to breathe life into this aspirational poem. Thoughts, o Eratosphere carbon-based life-forms? I don't know if I can manage this project without pathos, bathos, and nachos.

[Simon Hunt]

There once was a fellow named Tice
whose GERD meant his breath wasn't nice.
No lozenge could mask it,
though his friends all would ask it.
I don't know if this helps, but as usual with Allen I'm not quite sure what he's on about although I've read his original post twice.

[Aaron Novick]

Ogden Nash would be proud, Simon.

[Jayne Osborn]

I've moved this to Drills & Amusements, Allen, to comply with the "no poems on GT" rule.

I hope you get more offerings... but Simon's Nashian one has set the bar quite high!

Jayne

[Allen Tice]

The answer was simple, some say:
Not I, by a year and a day.
A lozenge, although fragrant,
Would've made me more flagrant,
So sorry! -- But I've no GERD today!

There's no way to retrieve the past,
Or bring close the people I gassed.
My ignorance weren't bliss:
I'd've stolen a kiss,
Risking slaps as though I'd trespassed.

But that GERD kept me virginal, pure.
Not what I needed, yet there was a cure.
Impulse would've prevailed
Then -- and today I'd get jailed!
GERD's ways are amazing, for sure.

[Jayne Osborn]

I’m sorry, this has worried me to death
for all these years, but now I have to say:
“I used to suffer badly with foul breath.”
(At last I’ve plucked the courage up, today!)

It’s not an easy thing to tell your friends –
for halitosis tends to be taboo,
but now it’s time for me to make amends:
"Apologies if I offended you."

The elephant that’s in the room has gone.
I’ve finally admitted that I stank.
It’s not a thing I want to dwell upon,
but every time I spoke the air turned rank.

A miracle – my breath’s no longer gross,
so from now on it’s safe to come quite close!