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F-. (standard:poetry, 105 words)
Author: Jack HenryAdded: Sep 24 2002Views/Reads: 2001/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Ironically, this poem got me an A in my Creative Writing class back in my Senior year.


Oh teacher, this poem is but one 

Out of ten total that are not done. 

I have spent the last few days in your class 

Sleeping, dreaming, and sitting on my ass, 

Doing nothing productive with my time, 

Because I could not think of more than fourteen good rhymes. 

Perhaps I should feel pity, 

For writing something less than witty. 

But all I feel is shame, 

For coming to my senses so late in the game. 

So I have given myself the liberty 

Of grading my own misery, 

Thinking to myself while scratching my stubble, 

You shouldn't have to go through all that trouble. 


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