I was introduced, through the limerick,
To writing poetry, I knew every trick
But my teachers found
I would rather go in the ground
Than write another limerick
Then they introduced
The beauty of the haiku
And I was in love
My notebook was filled
With terrible three liners
And I loved each one
And then my mother took me to see
A slam poet
And I watched
I watched and listened with
It was then I learned that poetry was not about words
Poetry was movement on paper
A silent dance of words
And suddenly I did not just enjoy
Feeling each poem
inside my heart
And then my English teacher taught me how
To write as Shakespeare did, telling stories
In fourteen lines, not a line more would she allow.
So I wrote new tales of love or deities.
I tried to follow every single rule
But I will admit, I bent a few.
I felt that the rules were too cruel
Immensely more complex than my haikus.
However, my teacher’s immense passion
For the Shakespeare's sonnets, meant that I
Fell in love with them, after a fashion.
My love for poetry would only amplify.
My teacher taught me how to tell a tale.
In exactly fourteen lines without fail.
And with these lessons,
I write poems.
Some are bad.
Actually most are bad.
But I keep writing.