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.
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