I grew up in a bookless house - my parents didn't read poetry, so

Host: The dimming light of the evening filtered through the window, casting long shadows that stretched across the floor. Outside, the city began to quiet as the last echoes of the day faded into twilight. The air was cool, the soft hum of the outside world slowly settling into the quiet of the room. Jeeny sat at the table, her fingers gently wrapped around her mug, the steam rising softly, almost like a breath of its own. Jack, standing near the window, seemed lost in thought, his gaze distant, the faintest lines of frustration creasing his face. The room was filled with an unspoken tension, a moment before the conversation was about to begin.

Host: The silence stretched, and the moment held its breath, waiting for something to break it. Finally, Jeeny spoke, her voice calm but carrying an underlying weight, as if the words had been gathering inside her for a while.

Jeeny: “I was thinking about something Carol Ann Duffy said: ‘I grew up in a bookless house — my parents didn’t read poetry, so if I hadn’t had the chance to experience it at school, I’d never have experienced it. But I loved English, and I was very lucky in that I had inspirational English teachers, Miss Scriven and Mr. Walker, and they liked us to learn poems by heart, which I found I loved doing.’ Do you think it’s true, Jack? That poetry can be a doorway, something that allows us to see life in ways we never would have without it?”

Jack: He turned from the window, his expression more thoughtful now, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I see what she’s saying, but I don’t know. Poetry can be powerful, sure, but can it really change the way you see the world? Some people might find it useful, but isn’t it just a form of expression, like any other? You don’t need poetry to understand life; you just need to live it.”

Jeeny: Her gaze softened, but there was a quiet intensity in her voice. “But poetry isn’t just about expression, Jack. It’s about understanding the world through different lenses, through words that don’t just describe, but that make you feel. Poetry helps us see things in depth — it pushes us to explore emotions and ideas we might otherwise ignore. English teachers like Miss Scriven and Mr. Walker weren’t just teaching us poems. They were giving us the tools to understand life, to connect with the world around us in a way that prose sometimes can’t.”

Jack: He crossed his arms, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes were still focused on her. “But poetry doesn’t hold the same weight for everyone, Jeeny. For some, it’s just words strung together. I mean, what about the practical things? Poetry can be beautiful, sure, but it doesn’t help you fix the roof or balance your budget. How does it translate to real-world impact?”

Jeeny: Her voice was steady, but it carried a certain gentleness, as if she were peeling back layers of something deeper. “You’re right, poetry doesn’t fix physical problems. But poetry does something else — it lets us feel things we might not be able to express otherwise. It helps us make sense of our emotions, of the world we live in. And in doing that, it changes how we interact with the world. Maybe it doesn’t teach us how to balance our checkbook, but it teaches us how to connect with our own hearts, how to understand the hearts of others.”

Jack: He looked away for a moment, his gaze softening slightly as he processed her words. “I get what you mean. But how does that help people who are struggling with things like real-world survival? Poetry seems like something for the privileged, something that’s not always accessible to people who are just trying to make ends meet.”

Jeeny: She exhaled slowly, her eyes never leaving his, the compassion in her voice as evident as her conviction. “Poetry isn’t about privilege. It’s about the human experience — the pain, the joy, the longing, the hope. It’s for everyone. Poetry has a way of capturing the human spirit. And maybe it’s not the first thing someone thinks about when they’re facing struggles, but it has a way of opening up the soul, of reminding us of the bigger picture, of what truly matters. It gives us meaning, Jack, in a world that often feels like it’s falling apart.”

Jack: His eyes softened, and for the first time, there was a shift in his expression. “I’ve always seen poetry as something that’s nice to read but not essential. But maybe I’ve been looking at it wrong. It’s not just about the beauty of the words; it’s about what it makes us feel, what it makes us understand about ourselves.”

Jeeny: Her smile was soft, the satisfaction in her eyes clear. “Exactly. Poetry helps us connect to each other and to ourselves. It’s not just about the words, it’s about the experience of being fully alive, of feeling the world around you in a deeper way. It teaches us that sometimes, the answers aren’t in the obvious things — they’re in the silence, in the spaces between the words.”

Host: The room had grown quieter, the evening now fully settled into the rhythm of the night. Jack stood near the window, his gaze distant, but his thoughts clearly turning over what had been said. Jeeny sat at the table, her presence calm but filled with an inner strength, knowing they had reached a deeper understanding. The world outside had gone dark, but inside, the conversation had ignited a new understanding of poetry and its power to shape how we see ourselves and the world.

Jack: “I think I get it now. Poetry isn’t just about the beauty of words. It’s about connecting to the world in a way that feels real, human, and full of depth.”

Jeeny: Her eyes lit up, a soft, knowing smile appearing. “Exactly. Poetry is about more than just language. It’s about feeling, about understanding the complexity of life in a way that makes us more human.”

Host: The night outside had taken hold, but inside, the room felt full of new understanding — a recognition that poetry is not just words on a page, but a key to seeing the world differently. Jack and Jeeny sat in the quiet after their conversation, knowing that sometimes, the greatest insights come not from the obvious answers, but from the deeper truths that words and poetry help us to uncover.

The evening closed with that realization — that poetry doesn’t just help us express, but helps us understand, to connect with the world and each other in ways that transcend the surface.