Annoying math teacher...

Math homework's more difficult
If you don't know the concepts.
It can be more frustrating
When the teacher gives insults
Telling you that you're inept
While she herself's complaining
"Didn't finish the problem?
Do it tonight for homework!"
So now I'm calculating
Every single one of them
And me this homework does irk-
Now it is she I'm hating!
So please Ms. Hagler, for tomorrow night
Give less work so I won't complain or fight.

Sorry if this sucks, it's really hard to write 7 syllable lines in a 1-2-3 1-2 1-2 pattern so I've tried my best.
I gave up with the couplet here so deal with the iambic pentameter.

Angst Sonnet

Today's sonnet's personal.

I fucked up big time 'cuz I told a lie-
I told it to a girl I used to trust.
But what she did has somehow made me cry
And I hope that others will treat me just.
For though appalling my actions may be,
to me betrayal is a crime far worse.
Well, take for truth this lie I told did she...
I asked her not to tell- that was my curse.
Now three days later everyone's found out
For two she's told and they've told all the rest
And soon found out she who the lie's about
So I must sit here and clean up this mess.
The moral here is lying's asinine,
But divulging friends' secrets is a crime.

A snow day sonnet

When there's nothing to do I like to write
An Elizabethan Sonnet or two,
And since the snow has painted the ground white
I sit at home and this is what I do.
Well, for the show I've acts to memorize
And still there's physics homework to complete
So maybe writing sonnets isn't wise
But the room with the desk doesn't have heat.
So here I sit and I procrastinate
And maybe later I'll do my homework.
The view of the snow from this window's great
So maybe I'll do work when it gets dark.
Shit, here's the couplet. Well, this sonnet's done...
I guess now it's time to get off my bum.

Blogs...

I read other people's blogs and no one reads mine. It's hideously depressing. maybe I should put labels on this post or something.

Everyone says
"You're in, you're in!"
But still you know,
There's not just an in,
For three weeks drag on,
Stalled cars on side streets,
Just waiting for answers.
The tow truck won't come
but for not a truck in tow
do you wait,
but a letter
THE letter!
Pinned to the back
and still weeks must you wait.
With the letter, your fate
10 percent yes, and still 90 no,
And you sit here and pray
but that's all you can do
a minute, one day
and one day, a year
a week is a lifetime
And never, I fear
Will my tow truck come in
With a "YES!" on the back

And so for the 15th, I wait and I sigh
For that day life begins
Or that day, I'll die.

Discover me!

I wish I was a poet... I know I can't rhyme.
I have no meter, no rhythm, no time.
If only by the grace of some god I could get
Enough talent to make the words flow from my head,
I'd write every day,
I'd get a good pay,
And writers from afar would quote what I say.

I wish that I could be real pretentious and cool,
I'd be loved by teachers from every school.
At some young age I'd be sure to retire
I'd live far away and be even more admired.
While living abroad I'd write even more
About my childhood, my life, and other personal lore,
And for every stanza that I'd create
Another hundred dollars in royalties I'd make.

Of course, a day like this will never be-
This poem alone took an hour, at least.
The rhymes were cliché,
What rhymes with cliché?
I KNOW! Cliché doesn't rhyme with cliché, okay!
But anyway from the main point I digress,
That to be a poet I must hope for the best.
And since poets today make nothing anyway,
I'll just use my poems like this- to complain.

What My Computer Thinks About Being Asked to Look for a National Poetry Day Poem: