There once was a poetess with a thesaurus
As big as the Adriatic Sea
She hunted down words in her book so absurd
Then tortured the world with these

She wrote lavish poems about simple drivel
Using words unknown to you and me
Inspissating her plots so we would think she was not
The harebrain her friends knew her to be

A plethora of words she abused along with our minds
As she wrote of the redolent roses
Why could she not say how sweet they smelled
Before she beleaguered all of our noses

Now her poems are a panoply of quintessential bliss
If you have any idea what that means
I surely do not and have no intent of learning
So for now I will say she is keen