Your words may be dry as an old man’s danders
But they resonate like water drops in a deep cavern,
For they are expressed with passion
Unlike a hypocrite’s words in flash fashion

Your mediocre words are ripples
On a calm lake, for they speak truly
Superior than greedy, dishonest tongue
Of a hoity-poity critic who calls you idiot

Don’t shrink in embarrassment by the
Self-inviting reviewer’s mordacious tongue
Write more ordinary poems
Till the vocabulary blooms

(Note:  Poems and blooms don’t rhyme.  I’d call it false-rhyme because they sound somewhat similar. 🙂  )