(to the room)
You guys don’t know colon from comma;
You have all the finesse of a bomber;
Can’t rhyme worth a curse;
Your scansion is worse;
And your notion of wit is “Yo’ momma…”
You come in here late, with your mantra;
Like some antithetical Santa;
Steal the prize you must;
For your abilities are a bust;
You should call yourself Malacan’tdra
Dear fellow, there’s no need to shout -
You barge in, your lame poem to tout
With execrable rhyming
And lamentable timing,
So why don’t you just Mince on out?
Still having a go Malcandra?
Come up with a line yet that scanned, huh?
You won’t pay the bills
With those poetry skills
I’m surprised that the mods haven’t banned ya.
Oh, it’s you, Colophon, my old mucker:
You missed your career as a trucker.
Your verse? I don’t love it,
So take it and shove it!
(Pathetically sad little… poet 
.)
I’m afraid this advice might sound terse
But resist the temptation to curse
Your meter is duff
Your scansion is rough
And the rhymes took a turn for the verse.
Terse? Would that it were. You’re loquacious:
But your limerick is hardly bodacious,
And I’m minded to swear
But I will not - so there! -
Though my foeman be ne’er so vexatious.
Malacandra insults Colophon,
And vice-versa, and on, on and on!
There’s much more to be said,
And this might kill the thread,
But the rest of us are starting to yawn!
Cornflakes? Why that soggy old poster
Possesses the wit of a toaster!
All pop, and no tart,
Plus his generative part
Is considerably more meager than most are.
So who’ve we got now? Hamster King
Comes giving it one desperate fling
Rather late for the sport:
But “day late, dollar short”
Seems to be - sad to say - just his thing.
“One desperate fling”? Dear, you wish!
Your rhymes are as stinky as fish
That’s been left to decay
On a hot summer day,
Or a three-week-old kimchi knish.
This thread is officially toast.
A Hampster decided to post!
It’s smelly, you say,
I smell Hamster spray!
From Hamster sized portions, don’t boast!
A poster who’s named after cereal
Thinks a thread that is starting to weary’ll
Be enriched by his presence -
O, thou loathsome excrescence!
Be off to the kingdom ethereal! :mad:
Your lack of poetical brain
Is evinced by the obvious strain
It takes you at times
To assemble your rhymes
Without *slanting *again and again.
You weren’t really worth the inviting:
Your poems are hardly exciting!
You sit there and snivel
Such a tissue of drivel -
Do you think that you’re good at this “flyting”?
Malacandra, that last one was duff
I really think we’ve heard enough
If I lose or win
This contest we’re in
Either way I just don’t give a stuff
Oops! I let our deadline run over a bit. Not a biggie, I suppose. I’m going to go start up the voting thread, and let’s see who our big winner is!
This competition is now officially CLOSED!
(I’ll post a link to the voting thread when it’s up)