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Of all the rhymes in all the tomes
The worst by far? Your funny poems.
You think yourself a clever bard
But to the world, you try too hard.
These messy rhymes don’t augur well.
Clean up after your doggerel!
Beleaguered readers beg for truce.
An armistice for Dr Seuss!
All of your nerdy wordy chunks
Land with resounding thunk, thunk, THUNKS!
Your over-eager palpitations
Suffer without illustrations.
The jokes are forced, the cadence phony.
As un-inventive as baloney.
Held between some dried out wheat.
A sandwich made of made-up meat.
That might include a little laugh
More satisfying cut in half.
And even though you did your best,
for every eager and impressed
consumer of your comic verse
ten others see you in your hearse
You may not be prepared to pass.
But they’d be fine with it, alas.