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The diehard poetaster shows distaste
For formal metre not precisely paced.
His measured lines are by inversions graced.
His words for EMPHASIS are uppercased,
His past and present tenses interlaced
His semi-colons frequently; misplaced,
His fulgent adjectives assumed in haste,
His hackneyed images best left erased.
Oblivious to critics who lambaste
His sentiments as saccharine or chaste,
His feeble stabs at metaphor a waste,
He dotes upon the mistress he’s embraced.
He doesn’t mind when critics say his verse
Belongs on greeting cards. He could do worse.

(first published in Light Quarterly.)