Modern poets, modern fools,
Writing by two golden rules;
Don't use words if they're short on size
When long ones could be utilised,
And adjectives must chaperone
Poor nouns that should be left alone.
The end result is pompous verse
That's hard to read, or even worse
Is proud and haughty, overdressed;
Would old grand masters be impressed
By those who claim to know the art
Yet flaunt words like a painted tart,
To whom their act bears close relation,
Intellectual masturbation?

Andrew Starling

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