A Month of Berets

April is National Poetry Month. This year I plan to indulge myself in celebrating by wearing berets. Never having mastered the art of pulling off an artful beret, it took my breath away to see some well tilted toppers around town this year. Quite frankly, I have the tendency to look like a muffin head. When I questioned a parent who cut a particularly dashing figure in his beret about his secrets for wearing a beret so fetchingly, he replied “It all boils down to having a bad hair day.” He appended his statement by telling me not to overthink it.  If I have a whole month to get it right, perhaps I can pull it off.

Berets are not the ubiquitous headwarmers they were when I was younger. Something about a beret makes me think of The Beat Poets, Greenwich Village and basement poetry readings.

Years ago, I accompanied a poet friend of mine to her mentor’s reading in Manhattan. It was in a high-rise, full of glass and comfortable seating. Scarves dominated the fashion where berets once reigned. I remember feeling grown up and cultured, though I was neither of those things.

For years I have wanted to hold a salon gathering of poetry. Dim lights, men with beards, maybe a set of bongos or two.

This April I settle for a month of berets. The violet fluffy one I sport as I write this I knit for no other reason than to use up yarn bought merely for its’ beauty. I hope to find the royal blue beret I embroidered silk flowers on inspired by Victoria Magazine in the ‘90s. Maybe I’ll even finish the one I’m knitting now.

So pull your beret out of the mothballs and wear it will me in April. Let me know what you’re writing and join me in A Month of Berets..

A month full of berets

Soft and fluffy or scratchy old wool

Hanging jauntily at half mast

Remembering the poets who inspired us

The Beats or the Romantics

Sporting small glasses

but hardly what you’d call myopic

Full of pain or joy

Sharing it all uncensored

Putting it on paper

Or pixels upon the screen

Can you hear our laughter

Cringe with every scream?

A month full of berets

Reading, breathing, writing

Poetry.