RCWP 2018 WRITING MARATHON RETREAT
What a beautiful and amazing summer is has been for me. One of my retirement objectives, hosting and facilitating writing retreats, has begun a year earlier than expected! From August 6-8, I was lucky enough to write with a group at Bay Pointe Inn on the beautiful Gun Lake in Shelbyville, Michigan. Our group filled the Boathouse and a few extra rooms as well, did some writing and sharing together, had hours of small group and individual writing time, and took full advantage of the beauteous location.
Here are a few selections from that event that some of the writers were gracious enough to share with me to share with my readers.
Enjoy!
From Kristin Kochheiser, a Grief poem:
Grief
Grief greets me
like an unexpected visitor
who should have called
before knocking at the door
breaking into my day, my routine
with its quick, incessant knocking
on my heart.
Just when I think I have seen the last of
my unanticipated guest
a voice, a smell, a taste, a touch, a picture
will twist my heart again,
insistent that I answer with tears,
throat quenching tight,
a memory revealed
and even though I want to shut the door tight,
bar its entry into my space,
this company of grief simply stabs its foot
into my door frame
preventing complete closure.
Grief stands in front of me
hands on hips
head cocked to one side
in query
wondering why I do not jump forward
in embrace.
Grief is adamant,
our unscheduled, untimely visits
are worthy
important to the relationship
of one so dear to my heart.
Memories agree,
so I acquiesce
and slowly wrap my arms around Grief
holding tight to its sturdy stance
praying for its gentle release
until finally, it nods its head in farewell
slips slowly away,
heading for another heart.
As I turn from the opening,
ready to quietly close the door,
to await another time, another visit
I spot it:
a round, shiny stone on my pathway
and I realize He did it again.
Grief leaves me pebbles of progress
marking the path
we have walked together
through the labyrinth of loss
where memories beckon
tears strengthen
and His love heals, all.
Kristin Kochheiser
From Therese Wood, a lighthearted piece written from the perspective of an inanimate object:
My life as an outdoor gas fireplace
So, what do You do they always ask, and when I tell them I’m an outdoor gas fireplace they all roll their eyes like “Oh Lord, BORING!”
But I’ll tell you what, I see the most amazing things here
First dates stand near, blushing with new-found infatuation
Old friends catching up, sharing war stories of divorce, job changes, illness, loss
Everyone comes near me because I offer a quiet warmth, a tiny light to stand near to share intimate thoughts
I don’t judge, I never leave, I stay the course and do my job
Last night I heard a woman tell her husband that she was pregnant with their first child
I saw joy in his face and tenderness as he embraced her
Last week another couple in their 70’s stood sipping their wine
Peering out at the sunset
They held hands quietly, no words were spoken- None needed I think
Mothers of the bride checking their last minute lists
Family reunions with dark secrets to share
Everyone comes to me, in the twilight to find comfort
And a bit of warmth
I’ve got to say, I have the best job in the world.
And another from Therese Wood:
How to find my passion
In a heap of ordinary life
Is a tall order
I’ve been head-down, carry on,
Gitterdone for so long
I’ve scarcely come up for a breath
Much less ask myself
“What’s my passion?”
It feels like an expensive delicacy
I’ve been too destitute to afford
Something I see in others
But not myself
The task to uncover my own passion
Is to allow my responsible self
To settle in to recklessness
To let in the straggler who is me
Always responsible, always following the rules
staying within the lines
to slow down
Dig in the dirt
And let in the chaos
I envy those whose passions
Burn so bright
Their artistic creations on display
for others to croon over
My life seems quite boring
pedestrian
I’m the Willie Loman
of older women
Blending in to the camouflage
Of others-
Not too this
Not too that
But I do confess
that I see beauty
in the ordinary
And I am comforted by
the simple pleasures of life
Will I “find my passion?”
Or
if I stay still and listen
will I hear the faint
murmurings of my own creative soul
whispering to me its secret heart?
Here are a few selections from that event that some of the writers were gracious enough to share with me to share with my readers.
Enjoy!
From Kristin Kochheiser, a Grief poem:
Grief
Grief greets me
like an unexpected visitor
who should have called
before knocking at the door
breaking into my day, my routine
with its quick, incessant knocking
on my heart.
Just when I think I have seen the last of
my unanticipated guest
a voice, a smell, a taste, a touch, a picture
will twist my heart again,
insistent that I answer with tears,
throat quenching tight,
a memory revealed
and even though I want to shut the door tight,
bar its entry into my space,
this company of grief simply stabs its foot
into my door frame
preventing complete closure.
Grief stands in front of me
hands on hips
head cocked to one side
in query
wondering why I do not jump forward
in embrace.
Grief is adamant,
our unscheduled, untimely visits
are worthy
important to the relationship
of one so dear to my heart.
Memories agree,
so I acquiesce
and slowly wrap my arms around Grief
holding tight to its sturdy stance
praying for its gentle release
until finally, it nods its head in farewell
slips slowly away,
heading for another heart.
As I turn from the opening,
ready to quietly close the door,
to await another time, another visit
I spot it:
a round, shiny stone on my pathway
and I realize He did it again.
Grief leaves me pebbles of progress
marking the path
we have walked together
through the labyrinth of loss
where memories beckon
tears strengthen
and His love heals, all.
Kristin Kochheiser
From Therese Wood, a lighthearted piece written from the perspective of an inanimate object:
My life as an outdoor gas fireplace
So, what do You do they always ask, and when I tell them I’m an outdoor gas fireplace they all roll their eyes like “Oh Lord, BORING!”
But I’ll tell you what, I see the most amazing things here
First dates stand near, blushing with new-found infatuation
Old friends catching up, sharing war stories of divorce, job changes, illness, loss
Everyone comes near me because I offer a quiet warmth, a tiny light to stand near to share intimate thoughts
I don’t judge, I never leave, I stay the course and do my job
Last night I heard a woman tell her husband that she was pregnant with their first child
I saw joy in his face and tenderness as he embraced her
Last week another couple in their 70’s stood sipping their wine
Peering out at the sunset
They held hands quietly, no words were spoken- None needed I think
Mothers of the bride checking their last minute lists
Family reunions with dark secrets to share
Everyone comes to me, in the twilight to find comfort
And a bit of warmth
I’ve got to say, I have the best job in the world.
And another from Therese Wood:
How to find my passion
In a heap of ordinary life
Is a tall order
I’ve been head-down, carry on,
Gitterdone for so long
I’ve scarcely come up for a breath
Much less ask myself
“What’s my passion?”
It feels like an expensive delicacy
I’ve been too destitute to afford
Something I see in others
But not myself
The task to uncover my own passion
Is to allow my responsible self
To settle in to recklessness
To let in the straggler who is me
Always responsible, always following the rules
staying within the lines
to slow down
Dig in the dirt
And let in the chaos
I envy those whose passions
Burn so bright
Their artistic creations on display
for others to croon over
My life seems quite boring
pedestrian
I’m the Willie Loman
of older women
Blending in to the camouflage
Of others-
Not too this
Not too that
But I do confess
that I see beauty
in the ordinary
And I am comforted by
the simple pleasures of life
Will I “find my passion?”
Or
if I stay still and listen
will I hear the faint
murmurings of my own creative soul
whispering to me its secret heart?
Great job, everyone! :)
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