The above is just a detail of Grok's elaborate realisation of this poem.
To see the full extravaganza of his digital imaginings, click on the picture.

 
I. Plum Justice 
 
O purple apples of my eagle eye,
O polished gems of amethyst and zest,
You sing to me with zing as I pass by
The icebox where your sweetest secrets rest.
You’re nestled in a willow-patterned bowl,
Tucked tight behind a portly jug of milk.
You’re Rubenesque and ready (cool and whole) -
Unbitten by the thief who seeks your ilk.
No surreptitious, syrup dripping glee,
No spittle-spattered, gloating-note excuse
Will come between ambrosia and me -
I’ll wither droolers with the wrath of Zeus.
I won’t let sticky fingers paw your skin...
I want your juice to dribble down my chin.
 
II. Dietary Advice for J. Alfred Prufrock
 
An apple a day keeps doctors away – 
This nugget says nowt about peaches.
Their dizzy bouquet may doom you to stray 
From snacks that lock lids on the leeches.
One gobble of guava from sun-spangled Ghana 
Lures mermaids to croon on your beaches. 
A bite of banana will conjure nirvana 
In men clad in white flannel breeches.
As coffee-stained moons are measured in spoons 
And hair, skin, and all that’s thin bleaches,
The universe hears your fancies and fears
Aflutter beyond reason’s reaches – 
Heed all that life’s fruit platter teaches.
High​​ minds have flown south over peaches. 

Susan Jarvis Bryant

If you have any thoughts about this poem, Susan Jarvis Bryant  would like to hear them.