I think it's really
Quite horrific
That you are so
God- damn prolific;
I bet your yellow
Post-it Notes
Are rhyming
Iambic
Couplet quotes;
Do you sing-song
In the shower,
When your planting
Bulbs and flowers?
I bet your friends
All wear ear plugs
And content themselves
With deaf mute hugs;
You're like a CD
On repeat;
When people hear you
They retreat;
I wish you'd stop
Just for a day;
Write a poem
Without display
Of rhyming tricks
And tuneful gimmicks;
Otherwise,
We'll beat with sticks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
but will he still go on taking it as a compliment, that incorrigible rhymer?