Mama used to say,
“Stop beating around the bush,
Just spit it out.”

But my poetry teacher says,
“Don’t tell us, show us;
Use metaphors.”

Well, I’d really like to comply
so with this story I’ll give it a try…

Little Johnny wanted to drink
but not from the kitchen sink.

So, after bidding his mother farewell,
he headed toward the new-fangled well.

Having heard it dug vast and deeper,
he borrowed Mom’s long-handed dipper.

Holding steadfast, he repeatedly dipped it,
quenched by words and concepts he scripted.

Four years of drinking up knowledge,
earned him a degree from this well-known college.

His mama, having known where he’d been,
wished us to celebrate with her and with him:

Come celebrate, we’re proud as can be—
our own Johnny, a college degree!
—————————————————————–

Now if you ask me,
I think mama was right,
No need to beat around the bush,
Just spit it out.

“Johnny graduated college.
Party tonight.”