All Mine to Sieve

I ‘A’s and ‘I’s 
(and sometimes ‘Y’s), 
with ‘E’s and ‘O’s 
and ‘U’s...
apace saute 
(with ‘je ne sais’) 
my consonant-
al stews.
‘B’s, ‘C’s, ‘D’s, ‘F’s, 
‘G’s, ‘H’s, ‘J’s, 
‘K’s, ‘L’s. ‘M’s, ‘N’s, 
‘P’s, ‘Q’s...
‘R’s, ‘S’s, ‘T’s, 
‘V’s, ‘X’s, ‘Z’s 
(as well as 
‘W’s)...
supply the parts 
I need as starts 
'n' ends to word 
ragouts.

These Times They Are...Superlative

Now’s the best and worst of times. Indeed, the blest and curs'd of times.
The William Randolph Hearst of I'ms: the best and worst of times.
Now’s the worst and best of times. The empty feather'd nest of times.
The faulty litmus test of limes: the worst and best of times.

Ein Deutches Currywurst of times. The tot'lly unrehears'd of times.
The never reimburs'd of dimes: the best and worst of times.
The second-best (at best) of times. I.e., the anapest of rhymes.
The jester (overdress'd) of mimes: the worst and best of times.

The tots and kids eat first of times. The binged until I burst of times.
My wallet’s gone! Unpurs'd! of dimes: the best and worst of times.
Oyez, de woist 'n' best o' times. The how d’you like my breast...? of times.
Come up and see Mae West sometimes: the worst and best of times.

The craven rave and thirst of times. The durst I...? 'Deed, I durst! of times.
The yet again, coerced of thymes: the best and worst of times.
Quixote’s gloried quest of times. Go West, young man! Go West! of times.
The Halt! You’re und’rarrest! of climes: the worst and best of times.

At freedom’s breast we’re nurs'd of times. The see Amer’ca first! of times.
Once more, my bubble’s burst! of climbs: the best and worst of times.
The uninvited guest of times. The vests remain unpress'd of times.
Is this some kind of jest...? of rhymes: the worst and best of times.

The dead, embalm'd and hears'd of times. The poorly prosed or vers'd of times.
En fin, the Fanny Hurst of primes: the best and worst of times.
The stress'd from being ‘Yes-s-s-s'd’ of times. The get it off your chest of times.
The dead but unconfess'd of crimes. The worst and best of times.

Ein Deutsche 'eben erst' of times. The Bellhop of Amherst of times.
The bought and paid-for jur’st of slimes. the best and worst of times. 
The totally immers'd of times. The ple-e-e-e-e-ease give this a rest! of times. 
The bleedin' best and worst...and best...and worst and best of times.

The Punn'd Cliche as Q&A

Won’t this age of anxiety sap all sobriety…?
Not if society practices piety.

Who'd dare say that y’all ain’t the belle of the ball…?
I know no one at all with the requisite gall.

Why’s the cream of the crop rarely land at the top…?
Though some may make that stop, most eventually drop.

Is one foolish to wed on the Day of the Dead…?
Nonsense! Somewhere I read: “Even stiffs scruples shed.”

Looms the edge of the end just beyond yonder bend…?
If so, heaven forefend: we’re in deep doodoo, friend.

Knows the meaning of ‘poor’ ev’ry father of four…?
Yep! It’s budget’ry war keeping wolves from the door.

Might great gaggles of geese pull the plug on world peace…?
Sure, so text the police: “Make the ‘gak-gak-gak’ cease!”

Do the Analects tell of the Harr’wing of Hell…?
They do not. Still, don’t yell: they Zen Buddhists treat well.

Can the Island of Io sustain, in its bayou (Hey! This ain’t Ohio) a crane with one eye…?
Oh.

D’you suppose you could cram Mason jars of (say) jam into cyclotrons, ma’am…?
Yes, if less than a dram.

Might the King of the Khyber, with help from his “nighbor,” untangle this fiber…?
Nope! King’s an imbiber.

Let a mandolin band play Loew’s “Lay o' the Land”…?
Yes…unless they’re so bland that their luthier's been cann’d.

“Holy Mother of Mercy!” exclaim'd Walker Percy. “What’s happened to Circe…?
(She’d moved to New Jerce.)

His question, though haute, is quite short (and I quote): “What’s afloat in the moat…?”
(Quotha! Nothin' of note.)

If her next oath of office she takes with a cough, thus: “A-h-h-h-hem!” – who’s pissed off…? Us…?
Nix! Get off the scoff bus!

Has Vern of Versailles earn'd a piece of the pie…?
Sure. (And there but for “Why can’t the English…?” go I.)

Who’s Quixote of Queens…?
Don’s that Don, by all means, stashing billions of beans into taper-fit jeans.

Which new rules of the road disallow being tow'd eating pie a la mode…?
None in binary code.

What think Freudian shrinks of the smile of the Sphinx…?
Most draw psychical links to this story: it drinks.

Tell me: who takes the crown as the talk of the town…?
Ethel Isadore Browne. She'll take nowt lyin' down.

Why’s the U S of A always wind up this way…?
Though I rue the cliché: ‘cuz its feet are of clay.

Which – this vat of Vouvray or my café au lait – contains vitamin K…?
Neither, to my dismay.

Once the flags get unfurl’d, do the diatribes hurl’d leave one’s hair firmly curl’d...?
‘Tis the way of the world.

Where’s the Xyst of Xi’an..? Where’s the Yak of Yaiku…? Where’s the Zorse of Zagreb…?
Not in any known zoo.

The Disappeareds or Without a Trace: a Gashlycrumb Prequel

(...and they were never heard of again.) 

A is for Aidan: apprenticed to Amish.
B is for Bette: bought by brokers Islamish.
C is for Carl: caught, caged: coop’d in a cote.
D is for David: devour’d table d’hote.
E is for Edward: ensconced in an egg.
F is for Fran: force-fed figs. (Fran’s fate’s vague).
G is for Geoffrey: gone grey from gangrene.
H is for Hans: Help! Last heard from in Wein.
I is for Ike: hid on Innisfree Island.
J is for Jake: join’d a jazz band in Thailand.
K is for Kai: kill’d by klansmen in Kansas.
L is for Lon: lost – like luggage. (Lufthansa’s…?)
M is for Max: made to move east of Maine.
N is for Niles: no more! (Nooners his bane.)
O is for Oona: she’s out on her own.
P’s for Pauline: pull’d an Eva Peron.
Q is for Quinn: quarantined in a quarry.
R is for Reg: raped while rowing with Rory.
S is for Shel: sunk at sea on a charter.
T is for Ted: tends to trip, for a starter.
U is for Ulmer: undone by Ulysses.
V is for Van: voted “Viscount de Sissies.”
W…? Wendell: his way West he wended.
X is for Xeno: his xysts all upended.
Y is for Yuri: yelled “Yid!” at the Y.
Z is for Zeb: was our zoo’s zebu guy.