All the poets I invited.
"Mull over Beauty". I asked.
To their waiting inkpots they hied.
On their prolific imagination they relied.
The senses they all becomingly exploited.
Awe- inspiring tropes they invented.
Fetchingly, tuneful rhymes they produced.
Pompously, their musical verses they chanted
"Stop it! Stop it!" I shouted, discontented.
None of their odes, my feelings, awakened
To the curtain I walked and the 'beauty' I unveiled
Speechless,they all stood,totally affected.
When they talked, they hardly babbled.
Their muse, they furiously cursed.
The soul-stirring poet I praised.
The lord who your beauty he molded.