Ode to a True Poet - Apr 6

O’ Pat Pattison, you, my brilliant teacher, I would shower in praises, had you not taught me better! for cliches void of thought are as worthwhile as a couch surfin’ moocher! O’ masterful and deepest sort of creature, shocked then, in the thrall of churning wounds, distraught I found your grace—and for my breaking clot you gave me poetry, this soothing suture. Trochees and iambs, blank verse, Shakespear’s form— you illuminated a path obscure to my sight. The subtle rhythms and rhymes you used as guideposts through a ruthless storm are now the tools that fix me fast,—secure. I’d take your class again a million times.