I had the distinct pleasure of spending this past weekend at my first poetry retreat with my heart’s twin, Susan. I’m not sure that my simple words can do justice to what a sublime weekend it was, but I’m going to try.
We were planning on driving up Friday night and taking part in the evening activities of smores and poetry readings by the shores of the enchanting Horseshoe Lake. But, due to circumstances beyond our control, we got a late start and rented a room in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota instead. We probably missed out on some poetic moments taking place at the retreat, but any time spent alone with my precious soul mate is poetic, so I’m sure we at least came out even.
Having arrived at the motel after midnight, both of us exhausted from the drive, we chose to sleep in Saturday morning. We hit the road again around a quarter to eleven. I estimated we’d be there some time before two in the afternoon, so I called the cabin to check in. It was nice to hear that they were as excited about our arrival as we were.
Unfortunately, a heavy, summer downpour and a convoy of military vehicles headed for Camp Ripley made my two o’clock estimate unrealistic. But Susan and I enjoy each other’s company immensely and we chatted, goofed around, sang, and laughed until we pulled into the most charming, lakeside cabin, just a stone’s throw away from the picturesque Merrifield, Minnesota, at about five minutes to three.
Sue Chambers, the organizer of the event, met us at the door. A writing program was already taking place so she directed us to some available seats and we watched and listened as the accomplished poets before us let forth with their winsome words. And winsome words they were.
One by one the smiling, unassuming poets read their latest offerings. I felt more than a little humbled but eager to participate. Once everyone had read their poems, Sue introduced us to the group and they in turn, introduced themselves to us. Then we took a small break for small talk and stretching, and started another program.
The programs are created by the poets themselves. Each attendee is required to lead one. Some give instructions on using a particular poetic form, others are biographies of a favorite poet or readings from a treasured book. All of them, however, have some kind of writing exercise.
The first one Susan and I participated in was from a lady named Linda who drove all the way from Ohio to attend. She had us think up a phrase and then write it fifteen times. After each repetition, we had to write whatever came to our mind regarding the phrase. By the end of the assignment, we had a poem, or something very close to one and we read them out loud to the group.
Sue Chambers followed with a program featuring American poet, Mark Doty. He is going to be the keynote speaker at our LOMP (League Of Minnesota Poets) convention in Duluth next year, and she wanted to familiarize him to the group. Quite a fascinating man. He has a way of describing touching and heart-wrenching events in a very down-to-earth and simple manner. Sue believes he will one day be the poet laureate for the United States.
Her writing assignment for us was to write about an important event using simple language and terms. Susan did a touching narrative poem about watching her daughter play softball and I wrote a free verse tale of when my mother asked my father to leave. Both of them need a little work, but we have the foundations for some lovely poetry.
After Sue’s program, we had a delicious supper of hamburgers, pizza, coleslaw, salad, fresh fruit, crackers, chips, and scrumptious ice cream pie for desert. Everyone helped with the clean up and then we were back to the main room for more poetry.
One of the most delightful poets I’ve ever met, Ed, lead the evening program. It’s hard to tell how old Ed is because he has long, cascading white hair and a matching beard that flows almost to his toes. He wears thick black glasses that scream “SCHOLAR,” and he carries himself as someone on the verge of something brilliant. Just being in his presence is both intimidating and inspirational.
His glasses low on his nose, Ed looked up at the group and told us he would be reading aloud some stories. We were to listen and see if we could come up with a narrative poem based on what we heard. He suggested we write in first person and from the viewpoint of the opposite gender.
He started out talking about the Ojibwa. I don’t remember all of the stories he read, but the underlying theme was water. Susan picked up on that better than I did. I wrote a narrative about a fictitious Native American tribe and their first female chieftain and Susan wrote about living in a water-starved section of Oklahoma. I just love her work.
That was the last program for Saturday. We spent the rest of the evening, until way after midnight, taking turns reading the poetry we’d brought from home. Susan and I each brought a packet and while I felt a bit intimidated by many of the narrative poems, a form which I find more difficult than others, we did hold our own. We both started out by reading one we wrote for the other. It was very romantic and sweet.
One by one, the group broke up and we headed off to our assigned rooms. Susan and I were given the orange room. I forgot to ask why it was called that, but it contained a bed that was at least three feet off the ground. Just getting on it was a challenge. Once we did, it was so soft that getting out was the last thing we wanted to do. So we did the first thing we wanted to do instead.
The next morning, we all had breakfast together. Nothing elaborate, whole wheat pancakes, ham, toast, breakfast cereal, juices, and coffee. But it was so cool to be once again eating with so many creative people. After breakfast we sat down to do the final three programs.
Susan’s was first. She chose a two-part writing assignment out of the book Now Write! edited by Sherry Ellis. It’s the book I gave her as a present the first weekend we spent together. Being a guru with description, she chose one on describing a piece of food. For the first part, we had to describe the appearance, smell, texture, and taste of any food we chose as if we were explaining it to someone who had never heard of it before.
It was a very successful program. The LOMP poet laureate, John Calvin Rezmerski ( http://www.mnpoets.com/poet.php ) came up with a hilarious poem about pineapple upside down cake. I wrote a two stanza iambic quad about a blueberry.
For the second part, we had to describe a vivid memory we have about a food. Out of this exercise, I created my second favorite poem of the weekend. My memory was of a baby sitter I had as a kid, Bernice Kunde, and how I loved to go to her place and help her bake. Susan wrote about her grandma’s cream of wheat.
Meredith Cook, editor of The Moccasin, LOMP’s yearly chapbook, provided the next program. Unfortunately, she was suffering from laryngitis and couldn’t talk very much. So, she set out some books on poetry and referred us to the page dealing with the Rondolet. It’s a French poem, consisting of seven lines. Lines one, three, and seven are identical. Line four rhymes with the identical lines and lines two, five, and six create a second rhyme set.
Susan and I wrote love Rondelets for each other. And, since we sat next to each other, we got to read them together too. John wrote a Rondolet parody of Rondelets, Ed wrote two of the little buggers, filled with clever word play, and Meredith, an exploding fire hydrant of poetic water, wrote four.
My program, titled Repetition in Writing, was the final one of the weekend. Sue Chambers introduced me with the traditional “last but not least” passage, but after seeing how wonderful the other programs were, I seriously wondered if maybe the last and least WOULD share the same spot this time.
I opened up by telling the group I was a paper-phile, pun intended, and passed out the handout I had created. It contained a number of famous poems that use repetition effectively, some examples of repetition in general literature, and a small collection of poems I had created using repetition.
I spent a small amount of time introducing the poems in the handout and then briefly explained the different types of repetition. Finally, I set them to work on my assignment, writing a list poem. A list poem describes something in depth. It looks at the subject matter from a variety of viewpoints and connects them together, usually by repeating the subject at various points throughout the poem. My poem, “A Writer Writes” is one example.
I didn’t feel that my program was as effective as the other ones until I heard the poems that the people created. Ed created one about grass that floated so high above its mundane subject matter that I felt a lump in my throat. Linda and Sue each created one about the cabin we shared for the retreat. Linda described it physically, and Sue, one of the owners of the cabin, described its meaning to her on an emotional level. I wrote one too, even though it was my program, but I didn’t like it at all. Susan wrote a beautiful poem about the things she cherishes.
After the final poem was read, we broke for a final meal and then shared in the final clean-up. All in all it was a simply amazing weekend. Driving away from the cabin I thought about all the wonderful experiences I had on this retreat. I thought about how I feel even closer to Susan. I thought about how I’m even more sure that she’s my soul mate. Then it hit me. This wasn’t only MY first poetry retreat and HER first poetry retreat. It was OUR first poetry retreat. I smiled at her. “I think we’ll be doing a lot more of these,” I said. She just smiled back.
