Brief Message (not 7th and final post)

The directive of our final assignment: to write in monosyllabic prose or omit all adjectives. I tried, temporarily, but monosyllabic prose seems to lend itself to melodramatic, useless poems. The challenge was too much for my feeble and senioritis encumbered mind. For example, here rots an excerpt of a rather badly formulated monosyllabic sonnet—

“Who’s there, quail I, eyes wide with fright,
Why d’ost thought turn my head so bent
With words of hope on my school night.
When work drains all and time is rent?

Ah, clucked it (as I could not tell
If this odd lilt was man or gal)
“Your plight calls not for self-thought hell,
Why not, with time, give this your all?”

Etc, etc, shudder no more, I’m not going to put myself or any unfortunate reader through any such rubbish; instead, a normal post will follow this. Directive: failed. Author: demised, despised, resides somewhere between Tripoli and Indiana, perhaps in a corn field.