A teacher once standing in front of me

Handed me a paper and said read this poetry.

It was very boring

By the second line I was snoring.

But then she handed me a poem by this black man

He understood the true meaning of being American.

I believe his name was Langston Hughes

He surprised me by showing what words could do.

Poetry could make you happy or sad

They could also make you hateful and mad.

Then there are ones that make no sense

Others making you feel very dense.

There are poems called sonnets,

Talking about women in bonnets.

There are haikus,

What they are about I have no clue.

All this I learned from a teacher in front of me

Who handed me a paper and said read this poetry.