“Why poetry?’ I asked Barb Test. We were sitting in a coffee shop. She was eating vanilla ice cream and sipping black coffee. That warm April day, she did not have her bag with her, roomy, sturdy and filled with poetry chap books by local artists, flyers for upcoming readings and contests, and her own schedule of poetry events in the metro area that she maintains and hands out like others might pass out business cards.
The first time I met Barb, she was reading at the Mercury Caf ‘s New Year’s Eve Erotic Poetry event – in the over-60 age group. Her energy and passion for poetry captivated me. I invited her to come to a reading at the bookstore where I worked. She did.
Soon after, I saw her at a poetry reading at a coffee shop, then at another bookstore. Later, she brought six young people to a workshop at the Denver Public Library. Several came with her, some carpooled, one came by bus, but she got them there. They were hooded, pierced, tattooed, unconventional. They were funny and engaging, and they wrote great poetry.
Later, she invited me to listen to the Poetry Circle students at the school where she teaches creative writing. The first reader, a handsome young man in a black T-shirt, read with a grace that surprised me. His writing was strong and vibrant.
The second student seemed terribly shy and read quietly, his nervousness apparent. After he was finished, he exhaled deeply.
A young woman followed, a bit hesitant but not afraid, performing a well-paced, pessimistic “rant’ piece, talking faster and faster as the hysteria of the poem moved to its climax. Very effective. Her second reading was more optimistic and bouncy; she used her voice and body well to live out her work for the audience.
The overall sense of self that these young people portrayed was palpable in the quiet room. I was impressed with the passion they described in their work. They had written important things about their world and realities. Their poems were filled with a worldliness that I had forgotten about, images of the city and their place in it. Things like: “dream of a bleary-eyed coffee-riddled sunrise’ or “a black Lexus cruises by heading to a new future, devoid of lawyers, mimes, politicians and other such ilk.’
They carried their writings close to their hearts. I thought they were brave. But then, Barb is an inspiring teacher.
At the coffee shop, I asked Barb how she got interested in poetry. “There was a teacher, not even my teacher, who invited me to come read poetry with her, one on one. I was so terribly shy then, but it was just the two of us. I read. The teacher sat and listened and emoted. I tear up just thinking about it. That teacher brought me out of my shell, gave me a place to start expressing myself.’
She laughed. “I guess it’s the old teacher in me that never stopped. I’ve always tried to figure out ways for people to feel good about themselves, particularly young people. Alienation is a big thing. Then they get out to hear other people and find out they’re not alone. I’ve always encouraged my students to express themselves, to develop a network of friends. Poetry can be a way to get in touch with yourself and to conquer that sense of alienation by finding a community that can understand your feelings.’
“Poetry,’ Barb said, “brings out the ‘aha’ that can’t be expressed in regular writing.’
April is National Poetry Month, and Denver is filled with events. Denverpoetry.org and coloradopoets.org are two local websites that can help you locate those events. I hope everyone can get to one event this month, and watch for the lady with the knitting bag filled with words.
Carol Valera Jacobson lives in Fort Collins and homesteads in Craig.
