Creative Writing Class

Here's one I wrote for Mr. Ball's Creative Writing class back in the Spring of '07, at the last minute (procrastinating as usual), in class, finishing at the very second I needed to turn it in:

On my ass

in writing class,

my seat as soft as stone.

Mister Ball 

gives C's to all

and speaks in mono tones.

I clean my pen

and dream of sin

and grimly long for home-

the task assigned

slips passed the mind

as i wrongly write this poem

for rhyme is bad-

or so he said

but i don't give a damn,

 i'll rhyme in threes

for extra C's

simply cuz I CAN.

jru

So I turned it in on the loose leaf I wrote it on, and these were his exact notes when he returned the paper:

-the best thing you've written, Jru

-maybe you just needed an enemy- although

*scribble scribble* I certainly don't

give "C's to all"-some do worse

-type this up please

I never did type it up, and went on to fail the class. This may have been partly due to a previous poem I wrote, which goes as follows:

Each Day I approach 

Is a boundless new encounter

On March 13th I found a roach

Laid down on the kitchen counter.

It looked at me attractively

And said it came from Philly.

So I tooke this weede all wrapped in leaves,

And smoked with my dogg Chilli.

My lighter hissed and flicked it's flame,

And Chilli wagged his tail.

He said, "Hurry up and hit the thing!"

So I had to inhale.

The so sweet smell of Mary Jane

scratched my throat and made me cough.

Then I passed her to my canine friend

And we carelessly laughed it off.

He took a puff and passed it back,

and we had a conversation.

It wasn't just a happy chat,

But was full of contemplation.

From the occupation of Iraq,

to spiritual elevation.

We laughed and cried and tried to rap,

while sharing the medication.

"What goes around comes dashing back!"

-was his beste quotation.

he cheifed and chiefed as he yapped

and messed up the rotation.

"Puff puff pass you silly mutt-"

Was my lone and single quip.

He ceded the remains of the blunt

And I burnt my fingertips.

Then I layed the roach on down to rest

In an ash-filled tray.

Mannn, do I feel truly blessed,

For there's something new each day.