It's that time of the quarter
when I'm beginning to menustrate
under the crunchtime pressure.
No sperm of inspiration has fertilized me yet,
and I feel like I'm hemmoraging
in a bloody mess.
Not for four days,
but for weeks and weeks at a time.
It's irregular.
Although it usually comes at the end,
it can hit any time.
They call it "finals week,"
but it can be much worse anytime before.

7 responses total.

ok, damnit, so I know the topic is something I've done before, but I thought
new imagery would make a nice poem and it was terribly theraputic.



no comments at all?

Wow....this is, um...
It's a pretty skillful use of what could have been a really crude image.  As
is, it just sort of mentally knocked the wind out of me.  I don't know if I
liked it or not, but it really hit me.

Awesome!  I got exactly the response I was looking for :)  I wasn't 
expecting anyone to really like it, since it was another one of those 
'I'm cracking under the stress of school' poems.

I guess this poem is too controversial for anyone else to comment on?

Maybe it would be more interesting if a woman took a serious subject and 
made an analogy to a wet dream or something..

Bloody hell.  (Pun intended.)

er, yeah.  I'll have to tread lightly around this one.

okay, so it was coarse, but then I've almost always written in a 
cathartic manner.

This poem is really...

Um...

Really you, Jon.  Very good imagery.

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