Procrastination Rush
It was a bright and cheery day, a perfect time to go and play,
The time was to go, go, go go have fun-
Time full of joyous adventure, the time passed as a mere blur,
And suddenly it seemed too late, thinking it couldn’t be done-
“ ‘Tis only a poem,” I giggled, “only three stanzas then I’m done-
Only this and time for more journeys in the sun.”
I scribbled, and toiled, and wrote, poems that for sure would never float,
With that dark, dreaded, and scary one-
That will only accept the best, and judge ruthlessly the rest,
And crush, from the assignments unfinished, those who run-
“How will I ever finish?” I yelped, “If I could only run-
How will I ever get done?”
My pen etched and flowed; rhymes came out like I’ve never known,
Thinking wonders of work but the waning minutes before-
Coming to terms that my paper wasn’t typed, leaving that class to hurriedly write,
Noticing the bell, tapping and clapping my keyboard-
“The hell I won’t be done,” I cried, “I have left my keyboard-
To get away from this thing, I need only a savior.”
Could I use an extension pass? Or could I just type it fast?
I panicked, I jumped, I scribbled, this was no fun-
What punishment will I receive? Will I get to leave?
I wondered, thought and pondered, could I possibly run-
“What am I talking about,” I realized, “penalty’s worse for those who run -
It’s time I just meet detention one-on-one.”
Snapping self into space, I wrote as I walked with a fast pace.
Hurriedly hurdling across campus, I finished the long bore-
Nothing else would do, just the perfect grade for you.
Just ending the parody as I entered the steel cage through the door,
Everyone laughed; I jubilantly jeered, “You know I finished as I entered that door.”
Quoth the teacher: “Nevermore.”
The time was to go, go, go go have fun-
Time full of joyous adventure, the time passed as a mere blur,
And suddenly it seemed too late, thinking it couldn’t be done-
“ ‘Tis only a poem,” I giggled, “only three stanzas then I’m done-
Only this and time for more journeys in the sun.”
I scribbled, and toiled, and wrote, poems that for sure would never float,
With that dark, dreaded, and scary one-
That will only accept the best, and judge ruthlessly the rest,
And crush, from the assignments unfinished, those who run-
“How will I ever finish?” I yelped, “If I could only run-
How will I ever get done?”
My pen etched and flowed; rhymes came out like I’ve never known,
Thinking wonders of work but the waning minutes before-
Coming to terms that my paper wasn’t typed, leaving that class to hurriedly write,
Noticing the bell, tapping and clapping my keyboard-
“The hell I won’t be done,” I cried, “I have left my keyboard-
To get away from this thing, I need only a savior.”
Could I use an extension pass? Or could I just type it fast?
I panicked, I jumped, I scribbled, this was no fun-
What punishment will I receive? Will I get to leave?
I wondered, thought and pondered, could I possibly run-
“What am I talking about,” I realized, “penalty’s worse for those who run -
It’s time I just meet detention one-on-one.”
Snapping self into space, I wrote as I walked with a fast pace.
Hurriedly hurdling across campus, I finished the long bore-
Nothing else would do, just the perfect grade for you.
Just ending the parody as I entered the steel cage through the door,
Everyone laughed; I jubilantly jeered, “You know I finished as I entered that door.”
Quoth the teacher: “Nevermore.”