Down Perkins Road, nestled in the trees is a quaint little red barn, welcoming the quiet reader as well as the playful poet. A museum of poetry, this is going to be a new experience. Not knowing what to expect demands an open minded approach; who will be there, what will first be encountered, will on the spot reciting be expected? As it turns out, there are no expectations of unprepared performances; only a relaxing atmosphere that begs the curious reader to look deeper for the next interesting piece left behind by a former guest. Blocks of wood with witty phrases litter the shelves; telling the unskilled poet that it is okay to experiment a little. The ROMP casually opens a new door to creativity that was closed prior to visiting the museum.
Thanks, Alvin. Come back any time.