Category Archives: Teaching writing

Poetry Bingo instructions

Posted on February 12, 2023 | Leave a comment

I’ve referred to the Poetry Bingo creative writing activity before, and I’ve published some poems that resulted from it, but I wanted here to post the directions I’ve been using lately, along with a couple filled-in examples (Day 1 empty form here; Days 2-3 empty form here; Day 1 filled in here; Days 2-3 here — I space this activity out over 3 class days, but that wouldn’t be necessary. Before I assign students the Step 3 part, I model it by leading a class through the process by asking several students what is their least favorite line of the current poem, and then replacing that line’s words by using other words from the original poems or chart, randomly looking up new words in books, finding synonyms or antonyms, or sometimes just writing a new line from my mind). What I love about this method is that it allows writers to put together essentially random words so that we can write things beyond the ideas we already have. Readers’ brains (and writers’, too) can’t help but find meanings out of even randomly associated words, and I love thinking things that I’ve never thought before. 

Here’s the poem I wrote (as copied from Days 2-3 above):

Notice lies of
disgraced iodine 
that carpet the memory 
of a cardboard lament. 
The soaring harvest 
of tall bells 
includes image expense.
Sinuous buds want 
convincing tells.

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Hugo’s ‘Writing Off the Subject’ and my notes

Posted on February 12, 2023 | Leave a comment

Here’s a PDF copy of the Richard Hugo essay “Writing Off the Subject.” (I’m posting this link for educational use only.) This is an essay I read with my high school seniors in my creative writing class. I tell them not that Hugo’s advice will help everyone but that his ideas about writing are worth considering. I first read this nearly 20 years ago, when I first started teaching creative writing, and this essay has shaped a lot of the ways I teach. Here are my notes on this essay that I share with my students (also copied here) (These notes below are similar to this post of a few years back, but, heck, here it is again!):

Notes: Poet Richard Hugo’s Advice in “Writing off the Subject”

 — “I hope you learn to write like you.” – If what I say (or what anybody says) doesn’t work for you, let it go. You can become yourself. You can force yourself to write in many ways, but forcing yourself feels like work.  We do work to earn money. There’s very little money in creative writing, so write what feels good, write whatever you enjoy writing just for the sake of writing it.

— Let truth conform to music: Pay attention to word sounds, and let the meanings take care of themselves.  (And they will – our brains can’t see two words together without looking for a meaning, an idea, or an image.)

— You don’t have to know what things mean in order to write poetry [you can describe, stay concrete, play with random words, etc.]

— “How do I know what I think until I see what I’ve said” – giving up control. You can try to control your writing, but that’s not fun – you’re not likely to be surprised, and your readers won’t be, either.

Don’t try to control it – throw stuff out, see what’s interesting.  This idea allows you to go beyond yourself, be smarter, more interesting, etc., than you know how to be.  If you plan out your writing, you’re probably not being creative. Writing can feel like play; if it feels like work, change.

— You FEEL, instinctively or intuitively, that the poem is done.  There is no standard, model, or perfect poem. This is the beauty of creativity.  Yes, you can write a limerick and then you’d know you’re done with it when it has 5 lines, rhymes, and rhythm. But then you are just writing to a known standard – that’s creative, but at your MOST creative, there is no standard. You start out and see where it leads. Since there’s no standard to tell you when you’re done, you just have to feel it.

— When writing a poem, the next thing you write always belongs – it fits there because you put it there.

— If you want to communicate, use a telephone (or an essay…).  There is no reader over your shoulder. You are writing for yourself. Some ideas ARE important to share – but if you choose that topic, you limit your poem. 

— Be willing to say surprising things – a poem is not you. It isn’t about you, the poet.

— Knowing can be limiting – if the town’s population is 19 but the poem needs the sound 17, use 17.

— There’s no need to explain in a poem. In art, as in life, things happen without cause.

— It’s OK for a poet to make arbitrary rules for his/herself – it’s one way of prioritizing the music, the sounds of words. Also see his example about “cascade” as word-play.

— Take an interesting path. – Let “what’s interesting” be your only guideline. There’s no “wrong” way to write a poem but seek what feels best, what seems interesting.

— “Get off the subject and write the poem.”

— Final advice, from Mr. Hagemann: Now, forget all this advice the next time you go to write. You can’t write creatively by following guidelines (I’ve tried – it isn’t fun or helpful). These ideas may be useful to you, they may shape your ideas of what poems can be and your process for writing them, but it will likely not help to be thinking of these things as you write. Maybe the trick is to find what works for you and, after the fact, confirm that these ideas worked for R. Hugo and/or M. Hagemann, too. The only real way to become a writer, to develop your creative-writing ability, is to write.

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‘Work is like play except they run at wall’: Exquisite Corpse poems, Spring 2022

Posted on March 13, 2022 | Leave a comment

Here are this semester’s Creative Writing classes’ poems written in the Exquisite Corpse method.  What I love about these lines is how they were created almost randomly but have a kind of weird logic. I like how some of these seem almost brilliant, in an obtuse way. See here for previous semesters’ poems. Punctuation was added, but the words below appear in the order they were written in the Exquisite Corpse poems made in class recently.

I want to leave me alone now.

Today will not be fun times for all.

Motor in car is bad, rough, cruel, thunderous squirrels in the ocean.

I have to go shopping with a peach and an astronaut screaming help, help me, I am dying in the dark cave where the animal lives in the den.

Listen closely or else you’ll see the future.

The dinosaur trampled through the mouse.

Who doesn’t go to go to a game?

Now she yeets it over the river and through thick and thin Cheez-its.

Life can be annoying people.

Oops, I did it again. I ran a red by Taylor Swift.

The worst thing is, I don’t love Bad Bunny all day.

Kids over all just suck at being so cringe.

Quitting is so easy, but what about her, though?

Kim Kardashian – her name wasn’t Kim – will have another drink.

Life, it’s short, sad, to my heart’s content creators.

Work is like play except they run at wall.

Good night, my darling. Love cheese and ham donuts.

Today I turned 19 years ago.

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‘I never knew you could leave someone out of the two of us’: Exquisite Corpse poems, Fall 2021

Posted on August 22, 2021 | Leave a comment

Here are this semester’s Creative Writing classes’ poems written in the Exquisite Corpse method.  What I love about these lines is how they were created almost randomly but have a kind of weird logic. I like how some of these seem almost brilliant, in an obtuse way. See here for previous semesters’ poems. Punctuation was added, but the words below appear in the order they were written in the Exquisite Corpse poems made in class recently.

I never knew you could leave someone out of the two of us.

For the first time in time, we will see.

Your mom is always yelling about 20 years ago today.

I want to leave me alone right now.

Happy is how I feel sad.

Leave here is today’s homework.

When the crow squeals angrily, screaming bloody hell, murder on my little mind is.

I want to stop believing in myself.

Father is very cold when alligators are very rideable.

Cats and dogs tear flesh off the night.

Pretty girls make me nervous about little things like asteroids hitting the moon.

Time doesn’t always affect me because I rode motorcycles.

Is this the end of the end of the best part of me?

Extinct is what people call me.

Hard times are happening now.

Last week is way too long.

Can we please make out with friends and Clifford?

The solar system of equations in math will eventually kill me.

I just lost my knee.

Swim in a pool of your new sweat.

Wear your best dress. We will never die and stop and go, and, without it, there’s nothing.

Animal abuse is not ever going to stop at Stop signs.

Warm hot days are cracked eggs.

You need to get the teardrops on my guitar.

The right word can make other words.

The Bakers lived like no one watched when you are grilling my hot dogs in summer.

My friend, are you ready to go away and leave?

Do you think of me when I sing loud noises like fireworks exploding bombs?

Everywhere we go there is extremely sad and boring old teachers.

I don’t know what I am trying.

You’re a very special friend of mine; why are people alive any more?

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Art happens now, so write anew today as you are today: How to write creatively (2020 edition)

Posted on August 16, 2020 | Leave a comment

Below are guidelines I’ve formed from my own writing experiences. They are attitudes and processes that seem to help when I remind myself of them as I write. I can’t promise that these will make sense to every prospective writer—original thinkers and artists must, by definition, form themselves—but these ideas below are offered to help you get started on your own self-creation. I will share these with my creative writing students in the coming weeks.

Freewrite. Put down what comes to mind. Transcribe your inner voice. Interrupt yourself—that’s OK. Let out what’s in. Everything you write is something you produced, so

Accept it all. It took me years to stop seeing my youthful work as bad. All moments are equal; none are privileged. Keep it all as it comes to you—trust that there’s a reason each idea comes to you when it does, even if you don’t know that reason. Write in private so you can later decide what writings to make public.

Follow your feelings in freewriting, in choosing words, projects, etc. For years, I thought that I should write novels but doing that never felt like it had authentic energy for me. What I should be doing—what kind of writing is the most-fitting for me to do—will not feel like work.

Keep the faith. Being creative means making something you’ve never made before, and you don’t know if you can do that!  You won’t know where you’re headed and you won’t fully understand what you’ve done.

If you want to make something that’s like something that already exists, OK—just follow the pattern. Buy a book on how to do that. But pattern-following is not what I want to teach you.

We’re trying to make texts that are new. If something is new, it can’t be compared to any existing standard or judgment criteria. We’re giving ideas to the world—we writers are helping others to see the world, life, reality, experiences in new ways. That is priceless.

You will change your sensibility, your mind, over time. That’s OK. Write anew today, as the person you are today. Some aspects of your writings made earlier will be similar to what you write now. Some aspects will be different.

The real value of, and the real message of, any text is what’s between the lines— what’s implied, what’s hinted at. If you write honestly and openly, you will say things you didn’t expect to say. You will learn from you—your best teacher!

If you are writing as yourself, you will  also sometimes write things you’ve read and heard elsewhere—that’s OK. Our minds learn from the world. Consider these things to be allusions or cliches, and move on with your writing (readers will be able to relate to you through these things). But if you are trying to write like someone else, you’re not being original—you’re denying yourself. You’re insulting who you are now. Instead, accept everything your mind gives you. (This may also make you a better person, more willing to accept other people as they are. If we were all perfect, we’d be boring. Being perfect isn’t interesting. Be willing to show yourself as imperfect—be interesting.)

All writing is about someone’s conscious experience, yours or others’. The physical world is the physical world—it’s not up to us. How we think about/conceive of parts of the physical world, that IS up to us. Any object, in an emergency, can be a weapon. All ideas are partial and arbitrary.

Love what you have created. It represents you—it’s your chance to influence the world. But your writings are separate from you. You are undefined, your mind is infinite and open.

Every moment is new. Creativity happens here and now—not in the past where Famous Artists created, and not in the future when you’re older or wiser or richer or smarter, etc. Art happens now.

You don’t have to make things that look like other things that already exist. You make your things, and all they have to do is exist! Others may not like or understand your art. That’s OK. Make things that you enjoy making. Since nobody knows where they’re headed, you might as well enjoy the process of getting there! Do what feels right—what engages your mind and afterwords feels satisfying.

There’s no perfect poem, story, nonfiction, or any other text. What gets praised and popular is all too often art that is pandering.

Final concept: Everything on the list above is a limited-at-best description of certain ideas, moods, and experiences I’ve had. I can’t communicate to you what it’s like for you to make art. You have to teach yourself. Learn by trying and seeing what feels best and what you like.

(P.S. Here’s an earlier such list.)

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‘There are no speed bumps’: My students’ bad fiction makes sudden turns

Posted on January 30, 2020 | Leave a comment

In the spirit of the Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest, here are some of my high school students’ attempts to craft bad fiction: stories that give readers certain tonal and genre expectations, and then make sudden turns to subvert those expectations. 

Terry galloped along the circular path facing a crowd of screaming children on his gallant horse of red with a gleaming saddle, when suddenly, the carousel stopped. (J.O., Spring 2015)

It was a dark and stormy night as I realized the poisonous gas filling my house had made me hallucinate and it was really sunny midday afternoon. (T.T., Spring 2015) A quite-unreliable narrator.

I looked out the pale, grim, and gray window, only to see two cats doing it like it was Christmas. (D.K., Fall 2015) I don’t know what this one means, but it does make me laugh every time I read it.

When I woke up in bed last night, I realized there was a fire-breathing dragon in the corner of my room, so I shut the TV off. (M.D., Fall 2015)

Little Jimmy was having a great day, eating his ice cream until he dropped it. Some ask why he dropped it. It was because he got hit by a truck. (J.T., Fall 2015)

So I was about to hook up with this girl and she was super into me. We had to be quiet because we didn’t want anyone hearing us. I didn’t have protection but I just went for it. By far this was the most interesting family reunion ever. (S.C., Fall 2016)

Today for lunch I ate a talking duck. Every time I took a bite, it yelled “Stop!” Until I ate his tongue. (J.B., Fall 2016)

Up the road from my house was  a loud scream. The scream was almost as loud as my parents’ when I murdered them the night before. (A.V., Fall 2016)

The dog walked down the street, through a tunnel, over the hill, took a right, and ended up in the same place. (S.V., Fall 2016) This story shows how linear narration is, how readers can’t look ahead but are fed info piecemeal by the writer–who might lead readers astray, of course.

Her personality was like a potato that had been forgotten in the back of the pantry, the kind that starts to rot and grow those little things. The kind that you find 2 years later and throw outside for the raccoons but even the raccoons won’t want it. (S.K., Fall 2016)

He asked his wife, “Do you think we should have kids?” “No, honey, I think we shouldn’t.” “You’re right.” He then kicks out his two year old son. (M.L., Spring 2017)

I enjoy running on the beach with my girlfriend, until the LSD wears off, and I’m running from the cops in a McDonald’s drive-thru. (B.S., Spring 2017)

He traces lines along her back and strokes her spine gently. This surely is the book he wants. (C.J., Spring 2017)

My mom was mad at me for sneaking out last night because she heard the door open, but then she died, so I’m not in trouble. (K.A., Fall 2017)

If I had a dollar for every time I was called “ugly,” I would have, like, two dollars, because people don’t care enough about me to judge my looks. (M.K., Fall 2018) This one starts off sad—and then gets sadder.

He sat on his front steps as the world crashed down around him. Unicorns flew every which way, and rainbows made of jelly beans pelted the sidewalk. Yep, this was it — the end of the world. (A.H., Fall 2018)

Long blonde curls were soaking in the warm water when the boy picked his fork up and ate his ramen noodles. (K.T., Spring 2019)

It was a dark and mysterious cave lit only by the single torch of the traveler. There was supposed to be a bear, but the writer doesn’t feel like describing it. (W.J., Spring 2019)

As the hero approaches the scene, the villain has already killed the entire population. The villain executes the hero with one shot of a gun. (E.S., Spring 2019)

I was so excited that my sister was pregnant, knowing that finally I was going to be an awesome dad. (A.K, Fall 2019)

The story begins like this: two people were getting married at a beautiful park, and I don’t know what else happened because I was only passing by. (I.M., Fall 2019)

The parent was driving through the school zone and couldn’t believe the amount of speed bumps there were, until he remembered there are no speed bumps. (L.P., Fall 2019)

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‘Quickly here the critics come’: Exquisite Corpse poems, Spring 2020

Posted on January 21, 2020 | Leave a comment

Here are this semester’s Creative Writing classes’ poems written in the Exquisite Corpse method.  What I love about these lines is how they were created almost randomly but have a kinda of weird logic. I like how some of these seem almost brilliant, in an obtuse way. See here for previous semesters’ poems. Punctuation was added, but the words below appear as they were in the Exquisite Corpse poems made in class recently.

Exciting news is coming into house barefoot.

Anytime we can all hang off the old tree is air.

Blue is my favorite colors.

Today I woke up, told my dog to stop making a fool of mice and men.

Sometimes I’m happy; sometimes I’m so ready to graduate.

I’m excited to be married but not orange.

School appropriately dress in clouds.

Queen Elizabeth is dead like the nae nae.

Mashed potatoes are delicious while mashed potatoes are good.

Wait to be in cars.

The end is now and later.

Can you write a thesis statement on your paper cuts?

Live a little and feast is what I did.

I ate the whole case of a sound from a mouse.

Dogz is a boy band of musical animals with some ramen on the album.

Logic does not cross the pig.

The pig ate the other times.

Party like it’s 1999 or peanut butter with some jelly with bread and peanut butter jelly time! Peanut butter.

The number of the way I eat grass.

The best things are like stuff that could be danger ahead of me.

I love you, so I knew what I am.

Earth is not spinning today.

Silly words are used to create a new species already. I’m just getting started.

I need to use the Earth.

The Earth deserves to be careful for the wasps.

You are such a bee.

Luigi is a character from Avenue to Lake Street.

The best options are too complicated with my boots and coat.

Sign when you are tired of your stupid lies.

Mock me rudely later today.

Like, what is your problem solving?

You are such a can of beans on my shirt.

Many people think that I’m really hungry right now.

I am hungry due to the dark world made of glazed donuts.

Stop talking helps with good communication with the elderly.

Because of the peach, James is a name.

From limb to limb in limbo, you put that thing back.

Very boring sentences make me want to die to go to Florida.

Quickly here the critics come.

Yes to the dress like you are 21 kisses.

We will forever remain quiet for a while.

Zucchini tastes like wet dust.

I am actually elephant, is going extinct — goodbye!

What do I write to see her here?

Live in peace and candy bars.

Nothing pure is faithful, though pain continues to grow flowers in the summer.

Eat candy bars where you meet guys.

Ever speak to me again.

Time is something that doesn’t potato even death.

Fancy new clothes, fire flows into my heart, my Instagram pic witchcraft.

A very deep water was below me.

A boring word is a word is a word is a word is love for you or maybe a special car.

Divine the dinner was he made for you.

Beans make people feel, “so what do I write?”

I write my own life away from me.

Spotless is not my converse.

To create something is to eat raw pasta.

Toads roam the night. Roads really suck in Illinois.

Sad kitten, eat corn magenta and turquoise.

Halls are so very long hair braided down beautifully.

Home is where love blossoms bloom every Tuesday.

A strong word is only worth something pretty wild and vile.

Super white rabbits jumped very quickly picking pickled peppers, Peter.

Forever is a long time to start something new.

You shall always keep going to your jobs.

Jobs are difficult to keep calm.

Light as a feather, heavy snow is expected.

Quickly look at you.

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‘Days go by like nights’: Exquisite Corpse poems, Fall 2019, 10th hour CW class

Posted on November 29, 2019 | Leave a comment

Here are this semester’s 10th period Creative Writing class’s poems written in the Exquisite Corpse method.  What I love about these lines is how they were created almost randomly but have a kinda of weird logic. I like how some of these seem almost brilliant, in an obtuse way. See here for previous semesters’ poems.

The best ideas come in dreams that don’t come true.

Hard is always math sometimes.

Tonight I will try to be late or not.

Butter is what I put the lime in.

Under the evil mask, he washes his blue cars.

Look, a bird — oh, my brother went to college.

In the dark side of the moon, eclipses are beautiful.

Hill tops can be pointy like the edge of the things.

We lived happily ever before, but not anymore.

As the wind blew, hard work pays off.

My feet hurt so much love can be meaningful.

Emotions aren’t always heard noises in the background of a picture.

The world and only you are very loud.

Are people weird like I like to be?

Meanings are just a dictionary to find the meanings.

Together we are a Big Bang theory.

Names can be weird but nothing ever makes sense.

A willow tree flows through my hair as my eyes closed the ocean.

Very beautiful people are ugly caterpillars.

Scary novels make me vomit up your lunch.

Time can be very slowly run.

I really want to sleep together at night with it.

With it being rainy, my sister has two cats.

Days go by like nights.

Pizza is not always good deeds and forgiveness.

Running is so boring that one day the world is.

Getting sunburnt like a pig inside the deep abyss.

A good corndog is dog wrapped in the lonely forest by the luck that we will go undefeated this season.

Sweetie, you don’t need to lead us to our life.

Our only dog ran away with you, you peasant.

Please say thank you next time flies by in high school.

Sucking on toes isn’t your favorite color.

Happiness is a warm smile because you’re beautiful, yet so ugly; still, I do not know that you are unique.

People are very slow at times. They smell like turtles.

Time is relative to a dog.

Yesterday was so dry and so the clock is the sky.

When I’m lonely, I feel very awake. Somebody once told me that I was a rockstar. I am bored in green eggs and ham.

Tape your mouth shut because bad breath sucks bad when you eat your own boogers on Spongebob’s greasy spatula from Spongebob the show.

Fearful eyes look at moons’ swoon like debutantes’ fantasy.

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‘It can be a secret now?’: Exquisite Corpse poems, Fall 2019, 4-5th period

Posted on August 25, 2019 | Leave a comment

Here are this semester’s 4-5th period Creative Writing class’s poems written in the Exquisite Corpse method.  What I love about these lines is how they were created almost randomly but have a kinda of weird logic. I like how some of these seem almost brilliant, in an obtuse way. See here for previous semesters’ poems.

Flowers smell good, and, look, it’s a rat. Ahh, OK.

Not so much are you this.

Away I ran with nothing red.

The dog just keeps going to convince you that you are beautiful.

Quit being such a tiny hummingbird that flew like the wild hunt.

Physical traits are great to have.

Do you understand, kid, you’re the apple?

No, I’m not “heh” like a bunch of cats in the litter boxers.

I wrote to who is your special secret.

People are dumb and complicated. I’m so dang complicated.

I cannot lie to me like I’m a clown.

Die in a whole.

An inappropriate word is bongo and bingo. I like Uno better than the last one off the rough ground.

Songs about love come from melons.

Equations are the dumbest Cheez-its.

Dang, my life—is it going to happen?

Bored love is amazing and sweet like drops of sprinkles on the house.

Swing by sometime, or maybe just Marvin Gaye and get too big for me.

Blue hats are cool just like no one else you knew.

Who didn’t flush after I went to a house in the point of this is creativity?

It will be soon.

Take another hint, I guess.

Brussel sprouts are fire and have straight ice hanging off my neck.

Neck of the snake vanishes like dead demons evaporate.

Bomb.com, a website where you, me, we’re face to face.

Here is the end of the smart people who can recite Miranda rights to party.

Humpty Dumpty, like, sat on the wall. Bang. What even is that? Is not cool, man. Oh, well.

Park parallel literally anywhere you would like to.

It can be a secret now?

She is too fast for you, slow Poker Face by Lady Gaga waduba romance.

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‘It’s a wonderful life. Now 10 minutes left’: Exquisite Corpse poems, Spring 2019

Posted on August 25, 2019 | Leave a comment

Here are Spring 2019 semester’s Creative Writing classes’ poems written in the Exquisite Corpse method.  What I love about these lines is how they were created almost randomly but have a kinda of weird logic. I like how some of these seem almost brilliant, in an obtuse way. See here for previous semesters’ poems.

Movies are seen as entertainment.

The snow is falling from a cliff screaming.

Winter socks are fuzzy like frost on a windshield.

Time is going by slow people.

Death is at times considerable amounts of chicken nuggets.

Plant a book, harvest an untraveled path.

Nice place you have here, there, everywhere, and somewhere.

Another family will find you trees.

All your memories will start to fade away into nothing. 

Expensive shoes, purses, and clothes are not good food.

Think of a world where your mama doesn’t sound like a Chicken in a Biscuit crackers.

Like like or just like a snowflake falling?

A daydream escapes from the classrooms.

Boring places can be anywhere anytime.

18 January 2019 is a giant, horrendous flop on the hard ground.

Staircases are for falling downtown.

Fake your normal face, hide and seek.

Found a loose tooth and have almost found happiness.

People like Fred Flintstone and swerving on icy roads.

I am trying hard like a rock.

You are a lost cause effect.

World domination is kinda cool but not really.

Soggy grandma’s cooking is the best.

Soon I will not die.

Mean girls wear pink on days that end in the year of Thanksgiving.

The holy bible of memes is God.

Lie like your life depends if we go fly a kite in a dollar tree.

Yesterday, all my truffles seemed to be snowing.

Words are really long johns in summer’s heat.

Rocks hurt when they’re thrown into the world.

House made of cheese and I want some crackers.

Boys like to eat potatoes from a jar on my mom’s shelf.

Nights are kinda my thing except when I’m scared of peeing in dark rooms.

In my bathtub I drowned my first-born child because he was a cat.

Goldfish taste good while alive but even better raw and wrapped in donuts.

Are you happy yet again, you ugly soul?

Jail is a cool place to be the best.

The devil is tired of being there.

That is a question—the reason we exist.

You have many adventures with my two thumbs stuck in the mud.

My only home sweet home is my stomach.

Place this dead deer over the years.

Over the years I’ve learned how to make an apple.

Words are but things; we will live 500 years.

Hawaii is a beautiful place, as beautiful as Hawaii.

Dumb rat just hit the tree that never grew fast.

A weird personality is an important trait that defines who I am.

When is the next apocalypse?

The next apocalypse has now come to the best store ever.

Careers are always important for a whole hour while I wait for the foxes.

I like when my uncle is part Cat in the Hat.

Good wills are the best.

Now the sun is bright like the sun outside.

The rain is more wet than other people’s family.

Broken clocks in the city limits cross the rivers.

Fishing outdoors is great but it should be okay.

I wish I knew those who came before I call my mistress.

The only way outside is cold.

It’s a wonderful life. Now 10 minutes left.

Hear like a deer in the headlights.

The Walmart greeter likes my sister.

Bad grades make parents angry birds.

Today I jumped over the other day.

Friday is the best day that had rain falling into love with my family.

Dumb idiot boys are annoying sounds all around the world.

When are we gonna smash everything you stand on?

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