Obliqueness can be boring at beast,
with sharp pointy horns, pause of feat,
Oh why cain't the English learn to speak?
And right the wrungs of there defeat?

Righting a poem can be frisky, the learned
stakes on much risky, the our of hour
discontent, brought on bye winter brooks.
Righting bye candlelite is beast to no...

Obtuse is much bitter, biter of phases...
daze of the pulpit ovary gowned down,
shouldered shrouds caul lawdy, singe
that steeple chaste, and win won fore

The gipper of roses, poses, hoses
running races to a sacral graven...

Jabberwocky never dyed...
This is liven proof...

elysabeth faslund

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/why-can-t-poets-learn-to-speak/