Unlocking meaning in words

Over the past few weeks while trudging through the poetry unit in English, I've come to find a new appreciation for poetry as a concept.  In the past I've been one to be weary of all the symbols and figurative interpretations that English teachers seem to be so good at finding.  This year something changed and I'm finding enjoyment in poetry that I'd always envied in people that could just access any poem.
Today in class we read out loud poems written by ourselves that were stylized after either Robert Frost or Emily Dickinson in style and subject matter.  I thoroughly enjoyed listening to the emotions that my peers chose to share through this intimate writing style.  I now understand even more that poetry allows for a unique door into someone's head, really letting you see the inner mechanics of their thoughts.  The best moment though came from my teacher telling me that my poem was "really beautiful" after my reading.  Receiving praise elevates one so much, especially after opening that door and letting others into your thoughts.  That compliment made me feel much more confident in my writing, particularly of poetry.  Following this post is the poem read to my class.  And so we go.

Overlooked are those on benches,

sitting, watching quietly,

observations made of passersby

in the silence of body and mind.

Weight pressed on planks—

back and seat on—cold, expressionless,

planks, out in elements,

left by Committee and City.

Lonesome are watchers with

imagination blossoming into

flowers pollinated by

bees who blow by.