poem 4 a very very good professor?

Question

I need a good poem for my professor? young poets?
please, i need a good poem for my biology professor, she has been a very hard and dedicated prof. at my university of illinois, i need something special for her that would make her happy. summer course is over i need a peom,
pls
pls
pls
pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Answer 1

Your Biology professor should get a kick out of this one...I'm sure she's had her fill of fruit flies in her time :)


Drosophelia

With gossamer wings (such light frilly things)
It lands on the table below,
Multifaceted eyes that show no surprise,
As it moves over what once did grow.

Its small nature hides the strange way that it rides,
On the small gentle currents of air,
And it dithers and darts to such various parts,
Of the room with such devil-may-care.

Many a soft human pate has proven its bait,
For it lands wherever it will,
As it leaps from our dinner, left a few calories thinner,
It moves on and will never stay still.

Though many collectors will be their protectors,
And encourage them to multiply,
For in procreation we cause their mutation,
For it is after all just a fly.

But the fly’s not perturbed nor is it disturbed,
By the strange fascination displayed,
For it seeks only to mate and thereby procreate,
These actions as how they’re portrayed.

But these Drosophilia leave their memorabilia,
In the food that we all consume,
And what we throw out may not cause us to shout,
But it certainly gives them more room.

Oh, they live for the day then they’re taken away,
Their places the young ones repaired,
And nobody sees though they’re larger than fleas,
Just how finely their bodies are haired.

No thanks ever given to these creatures so driven,
For the work they were chosen to do,
Not all of Gods creatures have such intricate features,
Such as fingers that stick just like glue.


Their presence is judged by how much they are nudged,
Or swatted and watched as they die,
For boys pull their wings and do many such things,
To this poor helpless creature: the fly.

But vengeance they say is for those who one day,
Will serve up revenge when it’s cold,
And each fly so accost will just count it one lost,
That is why they are so very bold.

So count up your swings and just think of such things,
When next time you pick up the tool,
And when you have found they have won the next round,
Just remember who looks like a fool.

For though they can’t laugh like a big tall giraffe,
And their lips do not utter a sound,
Their minds will be ticking on how they are tricking,
That dumb human back there on the ground.

K.M. Sorbello

Answer 2

To write of the unknown...

I do not know anything about the subject/person you wish a poem for. You give nothing other then a dedicated female professor...

You want me to write about something in which only you perceive and I know nothing about.