Here’s an example of a poem produced in the Workshop:
“The Great Wall” by Grace Kelemen (2011 Workshop attendee)
What does that mean?
Who wrote this here, and why, and when?
On this stone, on this wall, in this spot
where the sky looms, a low, gray ceiling,
where the thick, wet air smothers every shallow breath
and the pale brown dirt is settled deep into the stone
that has been here for centuries.
But we continue to climb.
The ridges in the stone were not etched by rain or wind,
but by human hand, carving with a tool
which dug into that stone for a purpose.
What did he have to say?
Why are his scribbles, his cryptic graffiti, so different than mine?
Don’t we both have something to say
not everyone can read?