Spoiler
This is what happens when I spend all day arguing with a programming assignment, only to end up feeling no closer to completion than when I started. This is incomplete... largely because if I knew how the poem ends, I'd probably have solved my coder's block already. It's also not literary genius, rather an entertaining aside to keep me from being driven mad by Java and my Object Oriented Programming lecturer.
One late winter evening, all rainy and black,
I tapped at my keyboard - a quick clicker-clack,
Typing away at my programming task,
With coffee on hand, in industrial flasks,
When suddenly out of the code rose a wall -
I could think no solution, no answer at all
To the problem it posed me, a difficult one,
And as I looked closer - oh! What have I done?
Confused by my typings, I sat for a while
Attempting to sort out this problem so vile
And just as I rooted out where it had cracked -
Oh, most unexpected, a Critic attacked!
He rose up within me and out of my lips,
A sharp, pointy figure, and, hands on his hips,
He frowned at my code, he hmm'ed and he hah'ed,
And began to make notes on a small yellow card.
I watched in confusion, then counted to four,
And then I began to edge to the door.
The Critic called out: "Oh, are you off already?
I've only just got here - do let me get ready."
Now frozen in place, I eyed him with fear -
What was the reason for him to be here?
Despite my ill-fated attempt at escape,
For answers I did not have too long to wait.
The Critic spoke up, with malice so petty:
"You call this code? It's more like spaghetti!
It's tangled and knotted and oh! such a mess -
How could you think that this code is your best?
And let's not forget this bit where you're stuck -
You cannot attribute this knot to bad luck!
The only solution is to start it from scratch -
There's no way you'll solve this one here with a patch."
