Let me say a thing or two
On how you should compose
A poem to the one you love
Or to your hated foes

I chide you not on choice of words
To each the writer's own
At least, however, try to find
A stride, a beat, a tone

I balked when I did read what's written
From one the Bard's did lead
And laughed the more to think such person
Once held the eye of me

There's little left to critique
Your meter was fairly weak
If ever again you try to impress
Perhaps attempt your very best

Else stay the quill and quiet the thought
So not to embarrass the guild you led
With poorly formed thoughts and irregular meter
Lest another one suffer from the poetically dead

Vanya

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Ferinus, in the year 561 AD.