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Creative Writing was my love,
a passion I thought highly of.
A freshman, I felt I could shove
   one course in my school year.
Assignment 1 - simple indeed:
"Who broke your heart and made it bleed?"
I felt I nailed it; Prof agreed
   (or so it would appear)...

I think I wrote convincingly -
"Winter is not my cup of tea,
it casts its bread upon the sea,
   my saddest time of year.
I call a halt, enough's enough! 
I clench my fist and call her bluff,
and frankly, speaking off the cuff
   I wished summer were here.

"Dog days of summer make me smile
when, grinning like a crocodile,
my smiles are wider than the Nile -
   Elysian Days with you.
With bated breath, I'd greet the moon
and croon you some soft summer tune
until that wretched day in June
   when you dealt me a blow.

"My love, you had me on cloud nine,
now casting pearls before the swine,
you ran into his arms, not mine;
   my baptism by fire.
You left me there sadder than sad;
there may be balm in Gilead,
but you left me stark, raving mad,
   about to go haywire.

"To add insult to injury
you said I barked up the wrong tree
and so I sailed on glassy sea
   I hope I'm not too vague,
or should I spell it out for you?
In light of your foul witch's brew
I should do as the Romans do:
   avoid you like the plague!"

Thus it went on, emotions raw.
I hoped my prof would be in awe -
My last line was the coup de grace:
   I know this, too, shall pass.
My gentle prof, he had his ways
of pointing out my bland clichés:
"You do enjoy a well-worn phrase!"
   I learned a lot that class.


// Reminiscing on my patient Creative Writing professor indicating my over-reliance on tired phrases //

written 16 Aug 2020

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