poem composed in a short manner to other poets

with all of this radical ridiculous rhyming
As if all poetry pertained to positions
Of letters left at ends of lines
I am quite quickly sure
That our poetical poets, have no working
Knowledge of knowing poetry.
They fretfully forget fresh sounding vowels
Sweet simpering consonants as well.
Personification, simile, are left
As if their sweet names had never been heard