You’re grading, and I mustn’t interrupt
I understand what you are going through:
Waiting for a new idea to erupt
From that turgid pool, that dark, bitter stew
It is a bit like trying to drink mud
Reading essays inspired by deadlines
But if teaching thrums through your antique blood
You’ve no escape; as writing fast declines
You must take up your inky, tired lance
And battle giant cliches and trite thoughts
With verbal false limbs you must try to dance
To make sentences flow, you’ll explode clots
Full of beauty and pathos is your fight
May these words ease the pain of your long night
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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Comments (6)
It must feel good to stumble upon a gem in the muck, though. Well-crafted sonnet!
With verbal false limbs you must try to dance To make sentences flow, you’ll explode clots Oooo these lines were my favourite! Loved your poem!
I had never really appreciated how hard this must be.
💕 Another incredible sonnet ! 💕
Ah, marking. How I do not miss it.
As witty as it is slightly bitter, this poem brings a sense that creation can be a challenge, especially when up against a deadline. It presents a portrait of inspiration, however, and a lingering sense of a gain.