Mindful Poetry Gathering- April 5, 2023

Our first gathering for National Poetry Month 2023 was beautifully memory-driven and inspiring. We listened and contemplated the poem "My First Memory (Of Librarians)" by Nikki Giovanni. Sam Weiss opened with a grounding meditation and Co-Curator Yalie Saweda Kamara gifted us with the prompt: 

Write a poem (between 8-10 lines) that describes your first librarian or the first person to give you a book.
The first line begins with: "This is my first memory:" Use at least three senses and two colors to describe this memory. How did this moment make you feel? In your closing line, share how this encounter led you to another world--what did it do to your fingertips?

WATCH a video of the gathering and live reading of the poems created by our gatherers. 

READ poems created by the group below.

JOIN us at our next gathering on April 12, 4-5 PM EST with facilitators Rimel Kamran and Brooke Thomas. 

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Wonderment
by Sarah Pinho

This is my first memory:

Pale blue steps with chipped paint
Grey desk, light fluffy hair, smile
Stacks
Red boxcar, blue shirt, Violet on faded cover

Balancing 24 stories against my small frame
That was the maximum, after all

Sometimes a chin would do, to apply downward pressure
Sometimes they would reach my nose
Sometimes, the librarian would lend a cart

Dusty, musty, dog-eared pages
Third finger and thumb thirsting for their dryness
Familiar characters, friends, very alive

I could have them all

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The Big Box of Books
by Patricia Franz

This is my first memory of The Big Box of Books:

If I were sick, sick enough to stay home,
     - y’know, a little bit achy, hot forehead, pajamas all day,
     pb&j with cool milk on a tray, in bed…

the Big Box of Books was laid at my feet,
     -Little Golden Books that fit perfect in my lap.
     I didn’t mind their tired spines
     or my big sister’s name in yellow crayon inside…

and I didn’t have to share.

And I could close my eyes, and draw my finger across their tops
     and delight to find it landed
     on The Pokey Little Puppy
     -my favorite.

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When My Mother Took Me to Get a Library Card
by Ellen Austin-Li

Dewitt Branch. Inside, the open expanse, sun through sky-
light, the circular desk in the middle, blue (was it blue?)

wall-to-wall that smelled just installed. Is my memory faulty?
The woman, older than my mother and grander, asking

in church tones about my reading level. Mother’s reply:
She’s an advanced reader. My pride as I was set to wander

between stacks—city streets defined by skyscrapers. Kneeling
with books picked by title. The thrill when I opened new

chapters and climbed into secret gardens. The card,
my passage to another world. One I had chosen.

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Miss Snodgrass
by Eileen Van Hook

When I attended St. Andrew’s Elementary School
the highlight of the year was a class trip to the town
library. It meant leaving the chalk-dusted classroom
and walking through the park to the impressive brick
building full of treasures.

There was only one problem, the librarian, Miss
Snodgrass. Yes, that was her real name and her
fashion sense reflected it perfectly. Her gray hair
was pulled back tightly in a bun, making her mean
eyes even squintier behind her thick-lensed, rimless
glasses. She wore nun shoes and grandma dresses
but she wasn’t anyone’s grandma. All the children
were afraid of her, never made a peep in her presence.
I knew she didn’t like us, but I guess she liked books,
so she couldn’t have been all bad. I don’t know how
long she ruled over the library but I know she was
certainly a legend among the children in town.

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First Library
by Elena Estella Green

My first memory of Librarians was that they all wore glasses.
Some had those little chains dangling from their spectacles
Sometimes hanging about their necks.

The first whiff of a bookshelf is unforgettable.
Volumes in various shades of muted browns, faded greens
And I would always go for the red ones that stood out like

Strawberries, revealing a lush interior that filled all my senses
Especially my imagination. I could be the hero or a damsel in distress
Or have the perfect home life like Marmee and her little women.

I loved all the nooks and crannies of a library.
The saddest was when the lights flashed closing time
But I would leave with an armful of love at my fingertips.

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Books I Care to Remember
by Elena Estella Green

Detectives in Togas
When Molly Was Six
Lost Horizon
Time and Again
Little Women
Anything Agatha Christie
The beginning of reading.
The Junior Classics
Reading upside down
Legs up against the pine laminate.
Popping M&Ms turning pages
Sounding out the words
Play acting favorite characters.

Childhood’s escape.
A memory in words and pictures
And a lingering love of writing
Things down.

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Untitled
by Bryce Kessler

This is my first memory:
Sitting on Mom's lap, tearing confetti-patterned paper
to reveal something square and stiff. 
"A book!" someone says.
Can I eat this? I thought.
It tasted bland and a little salty.
Mom opened the thick square and started to tell an amazing story,
And I knew I needed more of these
bland, salty squares. Lots more.

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