River Poetry

    The sky outside is showcasing a sunset, pinks and yellows as the star goes to rest for the evening. Rain patters outside on the windows and roofs of buildings. The library is quiet, save for the clacking of keys on computers at desks where workers finish their thoughts before closing occurs in less than a half hour. On the second floor, deep laughing and light discussion fill the hallway with anticipation, leaking from a room with grey carpeted floor and a small kitchenette off in the corner. The dying starlight makes its exit through glistening teardrops of rain on the second story windows. The rain, unfettered, offers white noise and pervades the otherwise cheerful atmosphere. Older men and women line the seats set up in front of a dark, wooden podium adorned with lettering reading “River Poets,"  which is then underlined by a blue wave representing a river. 

     On the first Thursday of every month, poetry is read at the Bloomsburg Public Library on the second floor. Founded in 1994, the group wears the name of "River Poets" and they host meetings that are open to all, encouraging newcomers to make themselves at home and return as often as they like. These meetings often are themed, with tonight's no exception to this rule as its theme has been ruled "poetry about cats."

    A woman with a warm smile and encouraging gestures welcomes new attendees to have a seat, cozy up, and indulge in various sweets that decorate a table by the open door. Another woman with a bell attached to her hip signals the start of the readings as she rings her way over to her seat, silencing the rest of the room. General announcements are given, and thus begins the reading of immersive poetry. 

    Writers and poets sit attentive and prepared, shuffling papers between their finger pads and thumbing at bookmarks stuck in-between the pages of self-published books filled with poems and other short works. Emma Ginader, a shorter woman with brown hair thrown back into a pony tail and an outfit appropriate for the warmer weather - which consists of a blue tank top, jean shorts, and flip-flops - makes her way to the podium. 

    "Who doesn't love cats?" A question that is followed by agreeable laughter and a nod that commences her reading. Emma has been writing poetry since the age of eleven, even carrying around a notebook that she could document "fragments of ideas" or "beginnings of poems" in. Several of her pieces that she's selected to read are dated, demonstrating her extensive love for writing and backing up her claims that she's been a lover of literature for decades. 

    As a graduate from Columbia University, her past association with the school left her even more attuned to the theme of tonight with their mascot being a lion. Cheers and various shouts of celebration ring out after her announcement of being an alum. A man in a blue button down, named Barry, nods his approval.

    Barry is one of the four new attendees of the night. He has recently returned from Romania and laughs bashfully after proclaiming that he "would be welcoming others if it wasn't [his] first time being here too." His interest was piqued after hearing about the Poets for the first time, and he makes his determination in returning clear.

    Once Emma has concluded her readings, other poets follow her lead and make the trek to the podium, one by one, and dive into their verse. Their poems range from topics pertaining to the theme of cats, to other animals, to worldly themes such as faith. The versatility between the poems being read keeps attendees on their toes, wrapped up in the lines that make the thunder booming outside stop in its wake and listen in as well.

    "My favorite part of the writing process is when I can feel new ideas strike," Emma says, waving goodbye to a man wearing a fedora and dressing himself in his rain coat. "Revising, rereading, editing, revisiting - those parts, too," she adds, quickly and confidently. Emma has been interested in poetry since middle school summer camp, where she was inspired by a teacher that encouraged her to pursue writing. Her long, colorful history with poetry shows in the passion she holds for it and the way she's able to let loose when reading it aloud.

    Emma is only one of the many readers that partake in these events with the River Poets. Tonight's theme was dear to her heart, evident in the sheer number of poems she came equipped with to profess her love for cats. Many of the other poets in the room are regular members, quietly sharing notes throughout the night amongst one another.

    With the cessation of the meeting came the lighthearted warning to the newcomers that the front doors are locked and not to be used. The back doors are unlocked, but "the left one sets off an alarm that tells nine-one-one there's been a break in, and we don't want that." Some scattered laughing suggests there's a backstory to that, but it remains untold as the attendees file out and give their final goodbyes for the night as they brace themselves to face the unrelenting rainstorm still beating down outside.