T'was a man named Jefferson Carter...
Could not learn to read or write much better, or harder.
He would just cut down a fellow poet...
Because he did not know it.
He is a jerk...
A big Gobbley, like turk.
He'll just be the main Thanksgiving day tabled fare...
As his poetry does so to everyone does scare.
His written words do just like shreaks...
Outta his turkey-like beaks.
As he fumbles and stumbles through life's artistic like yard...
To only realize to himself, that he'll never be the well accepted or versed like Bard.
The ole' hatchet..
To his neck would be quite the well match-ed.
You know Micheal, the Forum is the place to air resentments. jefferson can be a bit blunt in his criticism but there are very few, yourself included, who are better poets than him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Carter is too blunt, yes, and his writing is only slightly above average; but he has been around and at least he admits liking what he likes, i.e. good poetry!