When I was in 10th grade I had this teacher--the kind you only get once in a lifetime. The kind like Robin Williams in Dead Poet Society.
He was so rad, and he really taught me how to love literature.
He taught us that when we create things it is often an abundance of ideas rather than a lack of them that hinders our creativity.
He handed out novels and had us open to a random page. From the words on those two facing pages we had to write a poem.
This was mine:
What I liked about you,
for one thing was hard to picture.
It wasnt just one thing,
it was everything,
everything i could tell about you in an hour.
I know where you hung out mostly
I wanted to find you,
but the sun still wasn’t out
and it wasn’t too nice for walking.
I knew it wasn’t too important,
but it made me sad anyways.