17587/Rogue's Poetry Class

Rogue's Poetry Class
Date of Scene:	11 April 2024
Location:	Classroom (Art and Music)
Synopsis:	A poetry class held at Xaviers School.
Cast of Characters:	Rogue, Emma Frost, Jay Guthrie, Evan Sabahnur, Patty Sloan, Kitty Pryde, Quentin Quire

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Rogue has posed:
2:00pm on a Thursday at Xaviers School.

The sun is shining outside, it is the week after Spring Break, and the students of Xaviers School are on the home stretch toward the finale of another year of classes. But that is not to say that focus can be taken off of one's studies. Classes are still in full swing for another month, with some big tests coming up in some of the major classes of study. Rogue's poetry class is no exception, though it may not qualify as one of the more challengingly hard classes, or traditionally rigid educational fields. Poetry, for all its value, is still meant to be fun and enjoyable at its core.

With today being a lovely day outside, there is an energy in the school that exudes throughout its residents. Between the previous hour of class, and the next within moments, students are rushing through the halls. With roughly 100 students roamin the building, it creates a pretty hectic atmosphere, but everyone is used to it at this point of the year, and as such people seem to know where they are going, and where they need to be before the next class bell rings across the PA system.

Inside Rogue's Poetry class, the Southern Belle stands before the chalk board, dressed in a dark green denim skirt that ends at a pair of dark brown leather boots, a white top worn upon her upper body with a pair of dark green gloves going up to her elbows, both laced about the wrist by delicate white ribbons that gently drift this way and that, as the Mississippi native writes on the blackboard. Her stick of chalk nearly worn down, Rogue holds a tablet computer in her left hand as she writes down a final sentence upon her example poems, waiting for her students to filter in to the classroom, as another lesson is ready to be taught for today!

The classroom has a classical style to it, like every other room in the mansion, with a view of the front eastern yard, showing off a few students already off for the day, outside and running around kicking a soccer ball.

It is a busy day, but a exciting one as the year is close to wrapping up!

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma is here already having partially imbided over when it comes to libations. She's here very much to indulge in things vicariously. By being a fair and honest critic. In her own admission, very likely to tear into the work of others and students for her own amusement. She is at least, however, not keeping a glass of wine with her. But that inescapable smugness on her face is a sure enough sign of it.
    So she's taken a seat over while glancing over at Rogue taking the time to setup teh poems, having moved close to the wall opposite the door to not interrupt the view of the students an the instructor.

Jay Guthrie has posed:
The winged young man always has a challenging time maneuvering through the busy hallways. His large crimson wings have a tendency to brush against this person or that thing. Although Jay has no wish to impinge on anyone, It would be against that fake cool exterior he portrays to apologize. So he just does his best to slalom down the hall without killing or maiming anyone or destroying anything. Jay arrives in the class carrying a beat-up old messenger bag that looks like it reached the end of its optimal life years ago. Keeping his wings pressed close to his body, the tall young man finds a seat near the back of the room and sits down. He tugs a battered yellow spiral notebook out of his bag along with a blue Bic ink pen.

Evan Sabahnur has posed:
    Evan had some spare time in his schedule, a rarity since he's been spending most of his non-school time working at Hope House. He'd never looked into poetry before, beyond a few rhymes in the style of 'There was a young man from Nantucket', which probably wouldn't go over well in the class.

    He takes a seat about midway into the room, taking a look around to see who else decided to poke their heads into the classroom.

Patty Sloan has posed:
Patty is not the greatest at poetry. She never really got into it. Getting bullied everytime she spoke in her old school really didn't help matters. Still here she is, in the class trying to follow along while writing a poem that she failed to write before class.

Patty looks distantly across the room at Rogue. She is listening. Really! Every few minutes she looks down and writes something down. She is working on a quick poem. She is sitting about midway in the room. Her own wings are at rest behind her.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
When the students are seated and facing forward, and the class is about to begin... Rogue, facing the students and the back wall, might notice something up near the ceiling. The head of a little purple dragon with yellow eyes, phasing down through the ceiling and looking around. The eyes settle on Rogue, or at least the head is pointing her way overtop those of the students. Hard to tell with all yellow eyes. Then the head disappears back up through the intact ceiling as soundlessly as it appeared. Then nothing more there. For awhile.

Rogue has posed:
A few more of the mixture of High School and College aged students filter in through the door a few moments before the bell rings to signify the start of class. A second later and Rogue turns from the chalk board to glance at everyone who'd shown up. "Heya everyone." She says in a soft tone of her naturally huskied voice. She catches sight of Emma as a stow-away observer today, which is fairly common for someone to sit in on a class if they have some reason to be interested enough, but over Emma's shoulder, Rogue notes Lockheed's head reverse-parascoping down from the room above. She lets out a sharp exhale, before she ignores that, and chooses to focus on the class-- and her job-- instead!

"Hows everyone doin'?" She asks, as she steps over to her leather chair where her little table resides beside it. "Everyone settled in? Last class'a the day for most'a you. I know, I know. Focus a bit longer." She states, smirking to them all before she motions toward their desks. "I've gone ahead and laid a few items out for ya'll today. I told ya in e-mail we'd be focused on something a bit more 'Spring' focused today, and thus here we are."

She motions toward the blackboard over her shoulder. "I give you... a selection of some of the top Nature Poets in modern times. Ya'll ready to delve in to a bit of love for the outdoors, and the emotional rollercoaster that it can make us feel?" She asks of the gathered students.

"I'm curious to know, though, which parts of nature you might want to write your own poems about? What would stand out to you as something that would inspire you to write your poetry toward? Be it Spring time, or even just flowers in the sun, rain on a roof, or one last frost before the warm summer days arrive?" She asks this, looking out over the gathered students, and waiting for one-- or more--to chim in with what would inspire them to write about.

Quentin Quire has posed:
The lavender menace doesn't need to be taking a poetry class. He doesn't need to be taking any classes; he's graduated! So what's he doing here, anyway? Much like the ice queen of the board room, Mister Quire heard about this little poetry class through one grapevine or another, and ingratiated himself with the teacher well enough to get permission to sit in and provide expert critique for the student's work.

Alright, he bribed Rogue with her favorite Starbucks (or the legally distinct closest facsimile) to be allowed to sit off to the side. Which he does, like a perfectly normal person. In a chair. With a perfectly reasonable t-shirt this time, branded withb the slogan MAGNETO WAS LEFT. Whatever that means.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma also might be a bit of a distraction for the students - she sometimes could be in these sorts of classroom settings. So she also might just be polite by trying to be a bit more subtle in what was supposed to be a learning environment, after all. One could hardly expect the students to perform if they were all distracted now, couldn't they?

At the mention of 'nature poems' she would just smile - it's an empty smile and a fake one, but it's also not a mean one. It's merely something that has no particular interest for her.

Jay Guthrie has posed:
Jay is slouched back in his chair, his legs splayed wide, as he glances around the room. He is holding his plastic blue Bic pen near his mouth and tap-tap-tap-tapping it against his bottom teeth. When Rogue inquires about a good subject for poetry he smirks and says, "Girls." He looks over at Patty, who is sitting in the next seat over. "Am I right?" He speaks in a thick, backwoods Kentucky accent that no amount of time among these elite halls seems to allow him to shed.

A smart ass to the very end, but despite that Jay is actually a very thoughtful and engaged student...when teachers can get through his defensive shell.

Evan Sabahnur has posed:
    After looking over the poems Rogue has put up as examples, Evan thinks about what might be worth writing about. Glancing out the window at the sunny yard, he considers for a moment, then shakes his head slightly. Drumming his fingers quietly on the desk in front of him, he considers some of the different places he's seen so far. After a moment, he nods to himself, then says "Maybe something about mountains, waterfalls, something like that."

    Maybe not a huge stretch considering he's from Colorado, but he figures he's best off with something he knows fairly well.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The class is without disturbance for awhile. Other than any from those actually in the room. But as the class proceeds along, there's movement in the back of the room again. A purple dragon head once again descends in ghostly fashion through the ceiling. Only this time he's wearing sunglasses. The head swings about as if surveying the room, then gives Rogue an up-nod. Which since he's upside down looks more like a down-nod. But she probably gets the gesture.

And then his head disappears back up through the floor again.

Patty Sloan has posed:
Patty continues writing things down. A smile forms on her lips as she puts the finishing touches on her poem. She looks around the room at the different people present. The students and the alumni who are here. She rests her head on her hand as she watches and listens. Its the last class of the day and she wants to be outside. She wants to run and do her routine.

As she looks around the girl hears Jay's comment. She snickers and raises her eyebrows twice. "Oh yeah!" She turns to Rogue, "The trees. New Life. Or even old life renewed." She smiles happily.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue does love Starbucks quite a bit, thus she and quentin assuredly struck a deal. She pays him a noteable smirk to acknowledge his presence, both he and Emma situated close together since they are observers of the class today. But it is the words from the students that draw Rogue's green eyed gaze back on to them. She's listening to Jay's joke- which causes her to smirk- before Evan's more earnest answer makes her smile softly. She nods toward him, as she notes Lockheed appearing again through the ceiling behind the shoulders of everyone viewing her at the front of the room. She softly shakes her head at the dragon, and the girl likely controlling that phasing on the other end of the ceiling above. With Patty's answer, Rogue shows a slight grin.

"Okay, mountains, waterfalls, trees and the cycle of nature's renewal. All of these are excellent examples of where to start. But to write a quality poem, you have to take that initial point, and delve deeper in to what it means to you, and the ... lyrical nature of what makes you want to write about them. You want to create music here, through the written word."

Rogue paces to the right then, placing a hand on the back of her teacher's chair as she motions toward Evan. "You are inspired by the mountains, and the waterfalls, but what would you say gives you inspiration by those things? What would you say caused those examples to spring in to your mind?" She asks of him, before she looks toward Patty.

"And if you were to write about the trees, what would you touch upon with them that draws you toward them?" She inquires.

But finally she looks to Jay. "And what about 'girls' would inspire you, when it comes to girls and nature?" She asks the mouthy one.

Emma Frost has posed:
Lockheed gets an amused look from Emma, "Why dear, are you trying to peep some?" She would let out a sigh over as the classroom would start to fill up and the students would respond. Now to see who is responsive, whom is treating this as merely another way to get a participation grade.. or those that have bothered to show up for once for a change of pace.

But it is good to see Rogue so enthusiastic, so Emma buries her own outward cynicism and anything immediate that might come out of her mouth.

Quentin Quire has posed:
Quentin at least looks like he's mildly interested in Rogue's lecture to the class as she waxes on about inspirational poetry and the like. Really, though, he's composing limmericks in the back of his mind. .oO('There once was a Klingon from Qo'noS...')Oo. as well as planning out the next kegger and how to top the last one. Maybe he can convince Carol Danvers to show up? She-Hulk? Maybe Power-Girl!

Jay Guthrie has posed:
Despite the attitude he carries around in his pocket for quick deployment, Jay doesn't have a mean or bullying bone in his body. He nods respectfully at Evan's words. He's from the country, and those images the other young man described resonate with him. "Yeah, bro," he says to Evan. "Makes me think about the cold morning air in the Appalachians. Your breath cascadin' out in the air like...like gassy feathers?"

When Rogue address him he says, "I dunno. I like girls. I like...their energy. Their eyes. The way they seem more likely to take people how they find them." He shrugs. It's getting a touch personal. The slight redness building in Jay's cheeks might be an outward sign that he's saying more than he expected to.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The ceiling at the back of the room is quiet again for a little while. The class going on. Students engaged in discussion with Rogue about poetry.

And then Lockheed descends again. Only this time it's all of him, and he's right side up. And obviously being held by a pair of hands whose arms are reaching down through the ceiling.

Also? Lockheed still has the sunglasses on. And a neon green headband, and neon green legwarmers on all four of his legs. The hands holding onto him wiggle him about like he were dancing back there, before he disappears back up through the ceiling.

Patty Sloan has posed:
Patty listens carefully to what is being said. She listens to the different students and their interpretations. Idly she looks at her poem. Its not in the right season but it does work... sorta. She erases the last line of the poem and rewrites it. A smile crosses her lips as she finishes off.

"I like that there are trees that go from death to life in spring. Yet there are some that never change. Some that just are. It's like how people can be. Some go through phases where its like they are dead for a season but then they come back to life. Then there are those that are steady. They never change." She smiles a little bit.

Evan Sabahnur has posed:
    Asked a question directly, Evan looks a bit flustered and pauses for a moment before saying "Well, they're pretty impressive to see up close, um, not quite sure how you'd work that into a Spring format though. Maybe something with the water coming down the mountains feeding all the new growth, I guess could work. I'm not too sure how to make it a poem though."

    "I mean, looking at your examples, just about anything could be said to be a poem, I guess. The Dickinson one kind of makes my eyes hurt though, I don't think I'll use that kind of style."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue takes a seat on the arm of the leather chair that her bag sits upon. She places her gloved hands upon her lap, and eyes the students as they mull over her words. Emma's little statement toward Lockheed draw the Belle's eyes back over toward him, seeing him dangled like that from above. She reaches in to her leather bag beside her, draws out a piece of caramel popcorn, and flicks it up at the dragon before he gets drug away back up to the second floor.

Rogue's eyes then dart back to the students, she hears their answers, and grins at them. Jay gets a light nod. "That is a respectable answer, Jay, an honest one. I like it, and sharing your thoughts are always encouraged, so long as ya behave." She further grins, before she looks toward Patty.

with a pair of quick nods toward Patty, Rogue moves her hand up to push some of her white bangs back behind an ear. "You couldn't be more right about trees, and people. On the outside, many of them may look the same, but if you get to know them, you realize every single one of them is unique, powerful, and vulnerable. It is a great topic for a nature focused poem." She tells the young woman, smiling faintly before her eyes move to Evan.

"Well, you do not have to be bound by the focus of Spring alone." She corrects him. "This is more bound only by the idea of nature itself..."

Rogue stands up again, and steps to the center of the front of the room, her gloved hands coming together. "Lets think of our favorite songs. The songs that we listen to that ... light us up inside." She tells them all. "What is it about that song that triggers that emotional response inside you?" She asks for a lingering second alone before continuing. "Is it the lyrics, or is it just the instrumentation by itself? I tend to think it is likely both, when it comes to our favorite musical tracks... For me, something like 'Dream On' by Aerosmith, is a big one for me. Or 'Don't Fear the Reaper' by the Blue Oyster Cult. Those songs bring up an emotional reaction inside me... But, music has the benefit of the instruments to help rise that emotion. Our goal here is, can you take the instruments out of your poetry, and leave it down to only words on your paper, that can also draw out the same level of emotions? It is a challenge for your mind to create words alone, that can rival the power of song."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would shake her head over, "I'm sure the little charmer would enjoy having some beef jerky. I should remember to procure some another time." Apparently even Emma wasn't immune to the effects of Lockheed being a rascal. Some actual amusement was on her face, and a soft smile.

"Poetry is very much a personal thing to create and enjoy, much like almost any form of art. You have your own reasons for liking or disliking something, of appreciating something or wanting to put it through a paper shredder like a Bansky."

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Lockheed snatches the tossed treat out of the air and munches away on it as he's pulled back through the ceiling.

A moment later a brown ponytail descends through the ceiling, turning into Kitty's upside down head, and she grins and tosses a wink Rogue's way before disappearing through the ceiling, and leaving her friend to teach the class in peace.

Jay Guthrie has posed:
One can almost see the proverbial lightbulb click on above Jay's head when Patty starts talking about trees. Excited, he turns to his friend and blurts out, "That's it. Trees. Combined with women." He snaps his fingers lightly a few times in a row and closes his eyes as he attempts to remember something. "What are they called...them women that live in trees like forest spirits." Then his eyes open and he exclaims, "Dryads, right? A poem about a dryad, someone who is close and natural but still somehow completely out of reach." His voice gets a bit wistful. "It's sad, like someone you want to touch so bad but you can't. No matter what you can't." So earnest and emotional is his tone one might wonder if this represents some recent experience Jay himself has had.

Then to Rogue: "Words can have their own rhythm even without music, right? I mean...if you say something like 'shut the door' it doesn't have the same easy flow as, say, 'close the door' does, right?"

Patty Sloan has posed:
Patty speaks up quickly to respond to what Emma said. "While it can be for yourself it is for your audience to interpret. Even Banksy's art has its audience. It comes down to taste at that point and we all have our own. Its still art no less."

She blushes and quiets down. Yeah this was definitely out of character for her. She sighs and then looks back to Rogue. A smile crosses her face as she speaks out again. "The song I like most paints a picture of being on an airship, flying through the late evening and a violent fight with another airship." She smiles.

Quentin Quire has posed:
To his credit, Quentin's paying at least a little attention to the class as it progresses and the topic of conversation shifts from season to trees and then songs. Which brings to mind that classic Rush song, "The Trees". The young telepath quietly humming the first few bars to himself. And still figuring out how to top his last kegger. Maybe he can get Lila Cheney to put on a show.

Evan Sabahnur has posed:
    Evan hmms, "You know, that's a harder question than it seems like. I mean, there's music that strikes a chord with me, makes me feel a certain way, but I'm not entirely sure I can really say exactly what it is that does it. I mean, something like the 1812 Overture is easy to place, it's almost tailor made to evoke certain feelings during certain parts. But, say Amaranth by Nightwish? I love that song, but I couldn't for a million dollars tell you exactly what it is about it."

    He glances over at Jay then says "Well, given the number of successful rappers, I'd have to agree on the rhythm thing."

Rogue has posed:
Before Kitty can raise her head up through the ceiling, a second piece of caramel popcorn is flicked right at her eyeball! She better hope she was still intangible!

"That's exactly right, Jay." Rogue responds to the girl-crazed one. "Look back in time to how Americans spoke 200 years ago, and compare that to how we speak today. Generally you won't find anyone alive today that even remotely sounds like those who existed then. Language, like so many other things, is entirely fluid. A river that is unstoppably flowing toward a different place from year to year. What words we use today, will not be howe we use them two centuries from now."

Patty's words garner a small grin from the teacher, as she nods softly toward her. "All of this is subjective, when it comes to what we like. But that is not to say that really delving in to our emotions, won't raise the quality of what we put down on the page. The breath from which we're willin' to dig in upon our own soul, and attempt to figure out what it is that makes us like the songs that we like, the poems that we like, will help us there-by create our own that resonate further with others. We have to explore our inner thoughts, to draw out the best things about who we are."

Rogue regards Evan again, showing him a warm expression, and a slight nod. "I'd like you to look up the lyrics of that song, and any others that do hit you like it does. I'd like you to read the lyrics without the music behind them, and try to absorb the words themselves. I, of course, don't want you to copy anyone else's work... but I'd like you to try and figure out why the words in your favorite tracks manage to 'hit' with you. I think it will help with my assignments both in the last month of class here... and if any of you choose to sign up for my course next year too." She states with a bigger grin.

rogue moves to the blackboard, and motions toward it. "That being said. My assignment tonight, is for you all to take the three chosen forms here today-- haiku, sonnet, and free verse-- and create a poem based on Nature that strikes you at your emotional core. I do not expect you to write some outstanding work, but I do expect you to share a shard of who you are with me, in your three entries."

Jay Guthrie has posed:
Jay nods and grins at Evan. His wings shift unconsciously as he gets swept up in the conversation. Music is his jam, pun intended, and getting him to talk about it is about as easy as a thing can be. "Exactly, bro! Rap is modern poetry. Alliteration, syncopation, consonance. It's how we pass our tribal knowledge on." He quotes a rap song he likes as an example. His voice when he sings is...well, this isn't music class so we shall not dwell on it here, but it's quite divine. "Know yer love's gonna last even if I was hopeless. My scribbled notes are your tats, on your front and your back, I don't even need a notebook."

He shrugs and sinks back into his seat again. He clearly just remembered that he's supposed to be an introvert. As Rogue announces the assignment, Jay opens his beat-up spiral notebook and writes down details. "What song is that, Patty?" he asks as he is writing Rogue's assignment. "Battlin' airships? That sounds really sick."

Patty Sloan has posed:
Patty writes down the assignment. She has a Haiku. She just needs to write a sonnet and a freeverse poem now. She facepalms. "Whose Idea was this." She mutters to herself and follows it up with a soft sigh.

Then Jay asks her about the song. She smiles, "Airship Pirates by Abney Park. I like that band. They are all steampunk. Even their instruments are done up to look all steam punky." She giggles happily. She closes her notebook as she prepares herself for a long night of studying.

Quentin Quire has posed:
So maybe he misunderstood what would be happening when he ingratiated himself into Rogue's poetry class. But this just means that Quentin will have to buy her another drink from Starbucks so he can be here for the completed works. Quentin doesn't seem to mind as he lurks in the corner with Emma.

Evan Sabahnur has posed:
    Evan nods and scribbles down a quick note and answers Rogue, "I can do that. There's a number of songs I can think of to try and just take the lyrics and see what they say to me without the music behind them. Not sure I'll ever be a great poet, but I can certainly give this a shot."

    He looks over at Jay and nods, "Pretty much what I was thinking, those guys might have been poets in a different life. Hell, they are poets, really. Poets for a modern, urban world." He writes himself another quick note.

Rogue has posed:
At the front of the class, Rogue holds her gloved hands together, as her eyes look over the students. "Okay. I encourage you all to share what you write with one another before you turn it in too. Rely on each other. It's important to get other's thoughts on what you've done, even if you are not writing your poems to please anyone but yourselves. It's good to get feedback from others, to see how they feel about what you've created." The Belle states in her southern flavored voice.

A look is sent to Quentin, and another caramel popcorn piece flies at his face!

"Alright. I'm not done with ya'll yet. I know the sun is shinin' and the birds are chirpin' out there, but I still need ya in here for a bit longer..."

Stepping off to the side of the blackboard once more, the Mississippi Magnolia motions toward the three poems she'd written upon it. "Your in-class assignment. I need you to pick which one of these you like the most, and tell me why. I also need you to pick which one ya like the least, and also tell me why. You can either voice your answers now, or just write them down and turn them in ta me before the bell rings. Either way, I need your answers, and those who get up here and explain their answers to the class? They get a bit'a bonus points."

Rogue steps off to lean against her chair once more, placing a gloved hand upon its back again.

Patty Sloan has posed:
Patty opens her tablet again and quickly writes down some stuff. The first of which is the answer to the question. That question being which she likes the best and which she likes the least. Haiku is definitely her favorite due to it being short and very much structured. The least favorite Being Sonnets just because of how long they are. She continues writing. She doesn't mind freeform poetry but she likes haiku more.

Then once done she pulls the paper from her tablet. "No way. I am not getting up there, I Can't." She whispers to Jay as she is clearly shaken by the idea of public speaking.

Jay Guthrie has posed:
Jay puts on his concentration face as he once more reads over the three posted poems. Yeah he likes to do the aloof, bad attitude thing a lot but the truth is he really tears into his studies when given a proper chance to first be himself. It's when less tolerant teachers shut him down right away that tends to withdraw from the subject matter. As he reads he goes back to tap-tap-tap-tapping his plastic Bic ink pen against his teeth.

"Dickinson," he says with a dubious tone in his voice. "Her language just feels...I dunno...inaccessible to me. It's like she ain't really tryin' t'connect or communicate. Like maybe she likes the sound of her own literary voice and don't care none about what poetry is supposed to be: the pathways that lead from one person to the next and the next.

After another period of further contemplation. "But Billy W's got it goin' on. Beside the lake, beneath the trees. It just /flows/. It resonates with me. Sometimes I feel like a lonely cloud who is stuck where I am." He shrugs. "I dunno. Ain't we all just flutterin' and dancin' in the breeze?"

The deeper reddening of the ginger's ears and neck indicate that maybe he said more than he wanted. He sinks back into his chair and goes quiet again.

He leans closer to Patty. "Hey, yer among friends. Ain't nobody here gonna judge you. You /got/ this. You want me t'stand up there with you?"

Evan Sabahnur has posed:
    Evan snorts quietly, knowing just what to put as his least liked. He contemplates the other two for a few moment, then nods. "Ok, I'm going with Wordsworth as the favorite. It just seems to fit the concept of 'poem' the best. And as I said, Dickinson I just don't like. I'm pretty sure I could set up a random word generator, give it a loose theme and it'd spit out something similar."

    He nods at Jay's comments, "Exactly, though you explain it better than I do, but yeah, that's pretty much what I meant."

    "Nobody's gonna laugh or anything Patty, I mean, look at me trying to explain stuff I don't entirely get. You just do your best, everyone's friends here."

Quentin Quire has posed:
The additional caramel popcorn piece joins the circuitous orbit of the other, gliding smoothly around Quentin's head. The telekinetic offers a lifted brow at Rogue as he opens his mouth, allowing the caramel popcorn to swing about and fly into his mouth. "I only really do limmericks, teach, sorry..." he offers a guiltless grin to the southern belle.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue was leaning against her chair, listening to those who first spoke out, and gently nodding her head to what they said. "Fair points. But remember, when reviewing poems, you're reviewing the 'muse' that spoke to each of the authors and allowed them to put pen to paper. You can't replace that with an AI system. It isn't the same. Where we draw our words from... is something very different. So even if the poet's words don't resonate with you, you have to respect them for still generating the thoughts, and sharing them with us. We're all here for a limited time, a grain of sand in a beach of endless years gone by. If we can even leave the littlest impact of a poem that some people did not like? Well, I say that is still a pretty damn valuable impact."

Rogue has to look to Quentin next then, showing him a grin at his response and the playful nature of the caramel popcorn exchanges. "Well, put together a list and e-mail them to me. Maybe I'll grade your work too." She fires back, ever the playful flirt herself!

"Okay, lets keep going." Rogue states. "Who else is willing to get up and share their thoughts?"

She looks around at the other students (NPCs), waiting for one to get up and add to the conversation. Eventually, a couple more inevitably do, and by the time they finish up, and everyone else has their work submitted via paper or the school e-assignment system, the bell is ringing and the Belle is dismissing.

"Assignments in by tomorrow afternoon! Next week we're gonna start on something a bit more morose, in the form of War Poems. So get your minds ready for a bit heavier of a topic!" She calls out to the fleeing bodies vacating her classroom, likely many headed for the lovely outdoors and the shining sunlight set outside the windows.

Patty Sloan has posed:
Patty frowns, "I just... I don't like speaking in front of people." She frowns as she tries to work up the courage. "I can try but... I make no promises." She slowly stands up and moves to the front. "I just wrote... I prefer haikus because they are shorter and very structured. Like Five syllables, Seven Syllables, Five Syllables. I also like that they are typically nature themed.

My least favorite are sonnets. While they are nice to read, they are just longer and harder to write.