The Wordsmith’s Divulgence
My story is a flamfoo, ornamented too excessively.
I always overdo it. I’m over-endowed expressively.
Why use one word with two in mind? I fear I’m never spartan.
Instead of wearing loincloths, my poems are dressed in tartan!
Instead of coming one-by-one, my thoughts come in a storm.
So many little busy bees, descending in a swarm.
I do not have the patience to select them one-by one.
When I seek to edify, I simply find it fun
to pile on word after word. The more the merrier.
Bald truth is not my forte. I prefer my grand thoughts hairier!