The Loathsome Bard

He stands before us to deliver a poem, a prose, a verse a rhyme, or message. His manner quite manifesting, and his confidence puts the crowd at ease. Soon and very soon, too soon- we loath him. There is too much cluster on his magniloquent, vine, of strung together words without substance. Though the use of an, apophasis gives poetic license to insult. we loathe him instantly. The silver-tongued orator's brilliance, soon becomes wearisome. While the mute articulate points of his eccentric ramblings lead us to dead ends. Unfulfilled and burdened. We now loath him. The loathsome Bard goes on to rant about, degrading and dissolute issues of life, which we felt the Bard had not concern. His bombast delivery, to some appears eloquent, grand-stand language, bellowed out quite grandiloquently . Wordy vagaries, leading us nowhere. As we listen to the of his charades, we loathe him. Though quite colorful and pompous; He leave us in shambles, brains all scrambled and we loathe him. The once brilliant verse, though well-rehearsed, becomes wearisome.! The Bard, went not in hard; We the discombobulated, pray aloud, “next poet please Lord".! We all were relieved as he finally did leave, because he looked better going than coming. With our intellect he was toying, though the Bard was not hard! Most certainly; He was annoying!