Any teachers out there?
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Any teachers out there?I know and I know that we have had but with what I know they left for the promised land hehehe Ok Ok so I ask Is there a teacher in the hood willing to take what's left and help them be understood? If we shoot from the hip with flames of fire will they be honest enough to fan the write of desire. Can they help the helpless reach a simple goal and that is to write a write that can touch the soul. It's no good if a write can't linger and a positive note is if it gets the finger so a reader of write and toucher of souls is what this needs for true poets to mold.Step Up Please! |
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RE: Any teachers out there?I bet that would be a great job. Helping those young poets that really need it and are ready to explore every facet of thier work. Yet I think that OP dried up the well for the most part. I knew alot of poets share thier work and got better and better when they were able to voice themselves and were challenged by trying new things. Saddly those days are gone this is a decaying skelton from the living breathing community it was before. I agree one needs to step up to the plate and teach with a fair and adjective opinion of others work as well as thier own. But one must know that if one is to have such a role then they have to see what type of surrounding they have to have to teach. They can't teach when snow is falling in on the papers right. Or there is no structure to enact bounderies. If and if or when this site holds these responsibilities on a higher level then I am sure someone will step up thier game. If not then I think you should find other mentors else where. Where the surrounding are ripe for learming and exchanging. Plot121 Aka Robert... |
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Robert, you unsuspecting young man... I did a bit of teaching in my heyday.34 years of it with a masters degree, believe it or not. Nobody said I was any good, but a lot, I mean a LOT, of my students liked me. Why? Because i bribed them with a trip for Ice Cream on their birthday. I am no fool.. mandi: |
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.