Meetings

Jill begins a poetry club for High School students with her mother Deanna's help. Kari, Nichelle, Beth, Kevin, Joel and Steve all join.

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Anyone interested in poetry may join the New Poetry Club.  Meetings will beheld at a different person’s home each Thursday Night.  Call Deanna at 816-4302 for more information.

 

      Beth sighed as she looked at the bulletin board in the Paramount High School Commons.  Her friend Kari was the writer, not her, but even still she thought it might be fun she thought.  She pointed it out to Kari.

      Kari smiled, “So are you going to join?”

      Beth shook her head no.  She was to shy to share anything she might be inspired to write.

      “Ah, come on! It will be fun.”
      “I bet Nichelle would join,” Beth said pointing to their friend who was standing a few feet away.

      “Nichelle will join what?” she suddenly asked as she took a step closer to her friends.

      “Poetry Club,” Kari said pointing to the posting. 

      “Sure,” Nichelle said studying the flyer.  “What not?”

      “See Nichelle is joining too.  Now you have join so you don’t break up our group.  We always do everything together…” Kari insisted.

       “I suppose,” Beth sighed wondering how she could remain a wall flower in a poetry group.  If someone else read her poems allowed she might have a chance.

       “Who all do you suppose will sign up?” Kari asked.

       “A bunch of beatniks,” Beth guessed as she shifted her books from one arm to the other.

       “Nah, I am guessing a bunch of deep and sensitive but cute guys will come to pick up women at the meetings,” Kari guessed.

       “Well, in that case definitely sign me up,” Nichelle laughed.

       “I guess I will come too.  You never know, we might learn something,” Beth said.

       “That’s the spirit,” Kari said as she took out a pen and paper from her purse.  She jotted down the phone number and then they left the commons to get onto the busses that had pulled in the parking lot.  The three sixteen year old girls crowded onto the Number 9 bus and found some seats.  They talked about their day and poetry as the bus ambled down the familiar route to their neighborhood.

        The three girls got off at the third stop and walked down the road to their individual houses.  Kari waved goodbye as she climbed the steps to the porch of her turn of the century home.  Once inside the door she dropped her book bag and headed straight for the phone by the arm chair in the living room.

       The phone rang several times before someone picked up and said, “Hello.”

       “Hello, my name is Kari Kalowinski and I am interested in the Poetry Club that was advertised on the board at Paramount High School.”

        “Glad you called Kari. I am Deanna and I live at 16230 Morning Valley Road.  It is just off of State Route 218.  We have our first meeting this Thursday at 7pm.  I hope you can make it.”

        “I am looking forward to it.”

        “You are welcome to bring as much poetry and as many friends as you want to the meeting,” Deanna invited.

        Kari laughed, “Good.  I have two friends who also want to come and I am sure I can dig up some poems somewhere to share.”

        “Wonderful,” Deanna said.  “What are your friend’s names?”

        “Beth Cooper and Nichelle Campbell.”

        “And how old are you guys?”

        “We are all sixteen.”

        “Fantastic.  My daughter is sixteen as well.  She is the one behind the whole group. I am just helping her organize.”

        “What is your daughter’s name?”

        “Jill Gibson.”

        “I know her.  She is in my English Class.  She is a wonderful writer.”

        “Thanks, I will tell her you said so.”

        “So I will see you and Jill on Thursday.”

        “See you then. Bye,” Deanna said.

         They hung up and Kari picked the phone back up to dial Nichelle’s number.  She told her friend Nichelle what she’d found out and then let her go so she could call Beth and let her know.  It was all set up that Kari’s mother would drive them all to the meeting that Thursday.

 

       The next morning, Kevin and Joel were waiting in the commons for the gates to open and classes to begin.  That was when Kevin spotted the flyer posted to the bulletin board about the Poetry Club.

       “Whatcha lookin at Kev?” asked Joel.

       “This flyer,” he said, “I was trying to decided rather to join or not. 

       “Join what exactly? A cult or the legion of the undead?” Joel joked.

       “Poetry actually.”

       “Poetry huh?” he said stepping closer to the flyer and reading it. 

       “Think there will some cute girls there we could hook up with?” Kevin asked.

       “Maybe,” Joel said.  “I think we should go for it.”

       “We?”

       “Yeah, we,” he replied digging a pen out of his book bag.  He searched for a notebook and then jotted down the number.  “Can I count you in?” he asked his friend Calvin.

        “Sure, why not? What else do I have to do?” Kevin pointed out.

        “Homework maybe,” Joel said with a laugh, “But you never that!”

        “And I still pass all my classes�"that is how brilliant I am.”

        “Think they will have food there?”

        “Is food all you think about?” Kevin laughed

        “Are girls all you think about?” Joel asked shoving his paper and pen back in his bag.  The gates opened and they headed down to their lockers. 

         That night when Joel got home from school, he tossed his bag on his bed and went downstairs to get a snack.  After he finished eating, he took the cordless phone upstairs to his room and pulled out his notebook.  He called Deanna and got the address and time from her to attend the poetry meeting.  He informed her that his friend Kevin would probably be coming along as well.

 

        Before the four of them knew it, Thursday night arrived and it was time to go.  No one was quite sure what to expect out of the meeting, but they all enjoyed poetry. 

        Kari drove herself, Beth and Nichelle to the meeting.  The arrived at the old farm house just as the sun was setting on a beautiful autumn day.  The leaves on the oak trees lining the driveway had started turning brown and falling to the ground. 

         “Are we early?” Nichelle asked.

         “I don’t think so,” Kari said pulling to a stop and turning off the car. 

         They got out of the car, went up the steps of the huge wrap around porch and knocked on the old wooden door.  A woman answered and Nichelle asked, “Is this where the Poetry Club meeting is?”

        “Sure is,” the woman with long black hair said.  “I am Deanna.  Why don’t you come right in?”  She stepped aside and let the three girls crowd into the hallway. As Deanna smiled they could see the crows-feet crinkle around her eyes.  She looked to be in her mid to late thirties Kari guessed.

        “Thanks,” Kari said.

        “You can take a seat there in the living room,” Deanna said pointing to the large room to their left. 

         Beth led the way into the living room and sat in a fold up chair that had been out for the meeting.  Nichelle followed, sitting on a loveseat next to Beth.  Kari sat down next to Nichelle and took a look around.  The living room was clean and neatly decorated with country folk crafts.  Deanna seemed to have a thing for both Noah’s Ark and Sunflowers.  There were two other girls sitting on the couch across from the loveseat. 

        “I’m Jill,” the girl with the shoulder length brown hair said.

        “And I’m Steve, Jill’s boyfriend,” the guy with dishwater blond hair announced.

        Just then there was another knock at the door. Deanna walked from the kitchen in the back of the house through the long creaky hallway to the door to open it.  There stood guys smiling. 

       “We’re here for the poetry meeting,” Joel said.

       “Well you’ve come to the right place,” Deanna said.  “Come in.”

       Joel and Kevin stepped inside and followed Deanna into the living room.  They took seats in the other fold-up chairs that had been set around the room between the couch, chair and love seat that were already there. 

       “I think everyone who said they were going to be here is here,” Deanna said from her spot on the couch next to Jill and Sara.  “I am Deanna Gibson and that is my daughter Jill over here.”  She pointed and Jill waved.  “This Poetry Club was her idea.  She has fallen in love with poetry and has written a great deal herself.  She wanted a way to share her work and critique the work of others as well.  English Class wasn’t proving enough support, so she came up with the idea for Poetry Club.  I got talked into being the adult advisor for the club so that she could get credit for this club at school.  All of you are in fact, eligible to get extra credit for attending meetings.”       

        Deanna paused and then continued, “Our meetings will last anywhere from a half an hour to two hours�"depending on how much all of you bring to share to the meeting.  We would like to hear your own original works, but you are welcome to share your favorite poets and poems in lieu of your own stuff if you’d like.  Anything poetry related is welcome.  I have refreshments in the kitchen for when we are finished.  Any questions?”

        No one said anything, so Deanna added, “How about we go around the room and say our names and our favorite poets,” Deanna suggested.  “I will go first.  My name is Deanna and I like Jori Graham.”

       “I am Jill and my favorite poet is Emily Dickinson.”

       “I am Steve and my favorite poet is Dylan Thomas.”

       “I am Joel and my favorite poet is Edgar Allan Poe.”

       “I am Kevin and my favorite poet is William Blake.”

       “I am Kari and my favorite poet is Sylvia Plath.”

       “I am Beth and my favorite poet is Elizabeth Bishop.”

       “I am Nichelle and my favorite poet is Dorothy Parker.”

       Deanna smiled, “Nice to meet all of you and it is good to see that you are familiar with some of the more major poets.  You are welcome to bring in their poetry to discus if you do not have any poems of your own to share.  Now, did any one bring anything today?”

       Everyone looked around at each other and finally Jill picked up a piece of paper from her lap.  “I have something if no one else does.”

       Kari and Kevin nodded for her to go ahead and so Jill drew a deep breath and began.  “From my eyes there falls tears that are each tiny calls.  I cry not for you today, but for me and what I say.  I am sorry that I betrayed you.  I am sorry I break your heart like I do.”

       “Beautiful,” Beth murmured.

       “Thank you,” Jill smiled shyly. 

       “Not all poems have to rhyme though,” Joel pointed out.  “Most of the stuff I write doesn’t rhyme.”

        “Do you have a poem to share as an example?” Deanna asked.

        “Yeah,” Joel said flipping through his notebook and stopping a page that had writing on it. “I lay a rose on the windowsill, so it may gaze out at the cold and know nothing will last.  Not the love to share or a reason to care. There is will rest as winter seeps to boldly invade warmth and claim two wishful hearts.  No real love, no feeling left there in the cold.  Each dying red petal reminds me of your bright fire hair, of your smiling red lips, of memories that once inspired love.  As my dreams wilt at the sill, so do our desires falter and curl away in the chill, lost to a faded memory of a rose I left alone.”

        “Wow,” said Kari.  “I’m impressed.”

        “It is so sad,” Beth commented. 

        “Usually when I am happy, I am too busy to write,” Nichelle commented.

        “So what inspired you?” Jill asked.

        “Just a girl,’ Joel shrugged nonchalantly.

        “Anyone else have something to share?” Deanna asked.

         Everyone looked around at each other, but no one spoke. 

        “What is poetry anyway?” Deanna asked.  “Any ideas?”

        “Poetry is metaphor,” Kari said.

        “A pause before death,” Joel suggested.

        “An escape from emotion,” Steve thought.

        “Criticism of life perhaps,” Deanna added.

        “More philosophic than history,” Kevin said.

        “Memorable speech,” Jill decided.

        “Imitation,” Beth said mysteriously.

        “Images,” Nichelle threw out.

        “Letter,” Kari added.  

        “All good and valid descriptions,” Deanna said.  “I like Mary Oliver’s definition best though.  She said that ‘Good poems are the best teachers.’”

      The crowd murmured in agreement and then Deanna suggested they take a break and have some refreshments.  She’d baked fresh cookies and had a variety of juices and soda pop out for them to drink.  Everyone happily followed her out of the living room and into the kitchen to grab their snacks.  As everyone nibbled and sipped, they broke off into smaller groups and talked amongst themselves.  Kari conversed with Joel as Kevin spoke to Nichelle.  Jill and her boyfriend Steve spoke and Beth stood silently back and listened.