There once was a poet named Turner.
He was kind and a rather quick learner.
Then he tempted his fate
when he stayed for debate
Someone quipped 'use the afterburner'.
If you aim to remain and match wits
you will find that this place is the pits.
Where the poets throw rhymes
to the gallows like crimes
while creating fourliners 'bout tits.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem