Time is well spent if time is spent wacky. One poetry prompt we had wore the wacky hat especially well. Created by CA Conrad, it goes as follows:

“Wash a penny, rinse it, slip it under your tongue and walk out the door. Copper is the metal of Aphrodite, never ever forget this, never, don’t forget it, ever. Drink a little orange juice outside and let some of the juice rest in your mouth with the penny. Oranges are the fruit of Aphrodite, and she is the goddess of Love, but not fidelity. Go somewhere outside, go, get going with your penny and juice. Where do you want to sit? Find it, and sit there. What is the best Love you’ve ever had in this world? Be quiet while thinking about that Love. If someone comes along and starts talking, quietly shoo them away, you’re busy, you’re a poet with a penny in your mouth, idle chit chat is not your friend. Be quiet so quiet, let the very sounds of that Love be heard in your bones. After a little while take the penny out of your mouth and place it on the top of your head. Balance it there and sit still a little while, for you are now moving your own forces quietly about in your stillness. Now get your pen and paper and write about POVERTY, write line after line about starvation and deprivation from the voice of one who has been Loved in this world.”

Penny and orange juice in mouth, I ventured from the creative writing room to find the spot to settle in. I pranced down numerous stairways, walked intentionally clacking-ly past my dreaded physics class, and found myself plopping down beneath the hardly-used soccer goal of the SOTA field. From my grass cushion, I saw Sutro Tower’s head rise beyond a wall of trees as our school campus cascaded like stairs down the hill in front of me. And, just as the prompt suggested, I thought of my best love, and back she stared at me. The greatest love I know, that of an 1800 foot radio tower, that of my own. Tongue beginning to tingle, ears tickled by soft piano, the scene I tilted my head at became an image of my life. I, Sutro, rising over the city, over the school, over the bees. Planes knocked me in my head, birds had me all tied up. I showered voices over the bay area.
Once my chest had slightly given way from shock to amusement, I revisited the prompt. I relocated the penny to the top of my head and was still. And I wrote about POVERTY with Sutro looking on.
(now you go try it)