Among my memories, I’ll share that I started out as a teen poet who was a part of a poetry group called the Live Poet’s Society, founded by Barbara Donovan. I used to go to poetry meetings once a week at the public library.
At the meetings, I found myself surrounded by people several times my age, but that didn’t bother me. In fact, this literary membership gave me some of my earliest, formative experiences doing public poetry readings with the troupe, including one at the rustic birthplace of Walt Whitman in Huntington, New York, a destination that is well-visited by regional Long Islanders and poetry buffs.
So much can be written about the two years that I spent with the Live Poet’s Society against the backdrop of Long Island’s rustic island beauty. Yet, above all, etched in my memory, even more than the many moments of amazing poetry that I heard, is the group, itself, of a vivacious, supportive, and witty collective of ladies and poets and artists who delighted in each other’s company, who had no trouble challenging societal norms, and who became my fast friends in verse.
To this day, I am in touch with poets from this unforgettable group. One of them sent me a poetry book for Christmas the other day.