And we all went quiet ’Cause Mr Mackie sure can shout. Then Mr Mackie said, ‘Hands up those who like rap music.’ And me and some others Put our hands up. ‘Hands up those who like pop music.’ And me and most others Put our hands up. ‘Hands up those who like classical music.’ And me and almost everyone Kept our hands down. Except for Oliver. Only Oliver Put his hand up. But then he would. And Mr Mackie said, ‘Rap music and pop And punk and rock Have words. And the words are poetry Set to music, That’s all.’ ‘What about classical music?’ Asked Oliver. But then he would. ‘Classical music creates poetry In your mind. And your heart. And your soul. Even if there are no words Being sung or spoken, It still creates poetry Inside you.’
Why did no one laugh, do you think? What does the boy mean by this?
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And we all went quiet Thinking. Thinking. And the strange thing is No one laughed. Mr Mackie smiled. ‘Any questions?’ Hands shot up. ‘Does it have to rhyme, sir?’ ‘No.’ ‘How do we start, sir?’ ‘With whatever comes Into your head. Just let it out. Don’t hold back. Don’t stop yourselves. Don’t censor yourselves. Let your words flow Like a mountain stream Like a babbling brook Like a raging river Like a tidal wave A tsunami! Like a cosmic wave, Moving between galaxies. Like a... like a...’ And we all groaned ’Cause Mr Mackie was off Like a racehorse Running its own race. Just running ’cause it can, Running to hear its hooves Pound the ground. Just running, running