Ah, now who's this challenger who saw my invitation?
By flyte response you've surely earned my lyrical ovation.
Charmed to meet you, please- take a seat; and I will take my turn,
Defending myself from this diatribe, inked in stomach churn.

"Execrant sounds like excrement!" you exuberantly preen!
For what it's worth, I read that line while taking an Ehene.
Gods above, we're better than- rollin' around in the muck,
How can I blame you for working blue when you're so clearly star-struck.

I took your advice to study the pros 'fore I crow and honk,
Judged e'ery submitter to the poetry boards, here's the top 5: Blonk
Kindly share with this aging boar whate'er hallucinogenic dram,
Let you call me a 'poorly-lifted weir' when you clearly meant God Dam!

My dear Hashani Lordling, why is what you've cooked so bland?
Not much else to expect when one trades cinnamon for tan.
Or if you don't like that metaphor, try on this simile.
Passing off spices as colors? You're as drunk as the wine dark sea.

Quickly now! I hear your quill already drafting your response,
Remember well those who came before an' the urns where they're now ensconced.
Sacred ground their remains do grace, and I its cursed feoffee,
Tallow o' your betters comprise my soap; their ashes flavour my kawhe.

Umbrage noted 'bout my "gelid hell" conjured by rime ringed rhymes,
Verily, if your sick of the cold I'll cook you with chick'n and thyme.
Won't you forgive a poet who actually enjoys some seasoning?
Xeric plains of bland mouth mealy lines are no way to make verses sing.

You were right! There's nought to this form. I reeled it off with ease,
Zest for strife, not school marm's scold, is why I learn't my ABCs.

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Phaestian, in the year 1010 AF.