Okay, so I wrote this in eighth grade and when my creative writing teacher (in was like this enrichment class we had) read it, she told me it reminded her of a poet. Can you guess who? The bulk of my poems were actually written in eighth grade, believe it or not because of that class. This year coming up I'm taking this creative writing course they have at my high school, so hopefully that inspires me to write lots more poems. Anyway, I rambled on enough. Here is my poem, I Am.

I Am

I am a blank piece on canvas, just ready to be painted on.

An old piano, just ready to be tuned.

A broken winged bird unable to fly.

A tattered book with pages torn and discolored.

A gray cloud, ready to drop tears into the ocean from the vast dark sky.

If you couldn't get the poet's name, it's Langston Hughes. You can find the specific poem if you like.