No. You shouldn't be taking a class that requires such nonsense. I took a poetry class once in college. It was 90% vagina. What's your excuse?
I did Alternative Fall Break one year because the trips were generally comprised of like 15 hot sorostitutes and a handful dudes who were either complete losers or just weren't into vagina. This was a market inefficiency ripe for exploration. And explore I did. Got head from one of the girls. Banged another. Boom! ETA: to be clear, this happened after the trip was over. The aforementioned deeds would have been very difficult to pull off during the trip given that we stayed in the basement of a church.
I'm okay with poetry as long as it rhymes. Poetry that doesn't rhyme pisses me off.* *Unless it's haiku poetry. Haiku poetry is awesome.
I feel like you're setting up a joke here. I'll play along. No, I didn't know poetry was a lot like sex.
Not a joke, just a poem. I had some trouble finding a link to it, but this should work. Might have to click play on it a couple times. It's called "Poetry Like Sex" by Carlos Andres Gomez Rhapsody :: Subscription Music Service: Listen All You Want: Millions of Songs
It's been a while! All you super masculine men need some more of this shitty, homo poetry in your lives! Good thing I'm here. "may i feel said he" by e e cummings may i feel said he (i'll squeal said she just once said he) it's fun said she (may i touch said he how much said she a lot said he) why not said she (let's go said he not too far said she what's too far said he where you are said she) may i stay said he (which way said she like this said he if you kiss said she may i move said he is it love said she) if you're willing said he (but you're killing said she but it's life said he but your wife said she now said he) ow said she (tiptop said he don't stop said she oh no said he) go slow said she (cccome?said he ummm said she) you're divine!said he (you are Mine said she)
It most certainly is real! Got a new one for you guys. One of my favorites. He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. William Butler Yeats