A late night poem

A couplet of rhyme
In theory divine
In execution, sloppy
In pacing, choppy

'Tis easy to see why the author has left no mark
Such amateur scribbling, as if penned in the dark
For it is plain that this drivel was not reviewed
Before from unspeakable sources, the excrement spewed

Your literary incompetence offends
My favorite part is where it ends
For your style is a joke
On your pen may you choke
That of such nonsense we shall see the last
And you may bury a writing career in the past.

-S

Theory, it is not.
Nor is it divinity.
You misuse the word.

S,

Give the old boy a break
How perfectionist hearts must ache
They release poems unsigned
For their skills are unrefined
Just know that it's for his own sake


-- Nalick

"Theory" has meaning beyond experiments;
Why are you fixed in pedantic sentiment?
Words have nuance, are mutable as the tides
(and you've also forgotten the haiku's guides).
Oh, S, before you correct my failing rhymes
Do keep in mind my hatred of... poetry.

Poor poems late at night
Do no harm to us
Who have lived long in Travance

It would seem that a little constructive criticism goes a long way, with the removal of the original attempt at poetry. Perhaps the anonymous contributor will take a few lessons before airing dirty laundry in public.

Oh, and Dr. DuMourne? Do be a dear and realize that words have many different uses and meanings, especially in a literary context. Should one choose to go by strictly literal definition, then one would be a level of fool that belies the level of intelligence required to achieve doctoral status. Perhaps the good Dr. Maxwell can give you a lesson or three.

-S