“The Writer” (With Apologies to Poe)

“The Writer”
(With Apologies to Edgar Allan Poe)

Once while in my dorm room snoozing
With dreams of chess games I was losing
While from the keg my beer was oozing, oozing down upon the floor.

Thought I heard a loud, strange beeping
Through heavy lids, my eyes were peeping
But then they closed and I was sleeping, sleeping with a raspy snore.

“‘Tis just my clock,” I slowly muttered.
“Only this and nothing more.”

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I knew that I must soon awaken
Or English class would be forsaken
And next semester I’d be takin’, takin’ this same class once more.

Thought of breakfast – started gagging
Turned off the clock that still was nagging
Then my feet were slowly dragging, dragging toward the open door.

“’Tis just a class,” I slowly muttered.
“Only writing, nothing more.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

To the class, my legs were walking
I heard voices loudly talking
Such rude things they all were squawking, “This professor’s such a bore.”

All this reading; all this writing
There must be something more exciting!
Their words were mean and almost biting, as I entered through the door.

“They are fools” I lowly muttered.
“Stupid fools and nothing more.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I’ve written drafts, I’ve learned to edit
More revisions? How I dread it
But, oh my God, I think I get it! I think I’m gonna write some more!

Paragraphs and proper tenses
Standard grammar fills my senses
In my brain, it all condenses. An “A” could be my final score!

An “A” in writing? I’m ecstatic!
That’s what I wanted! …..nothing more.