To review: the Golden Shovel is a poetic form invented by MacArthur genius award winner Terrance Hayes. You can read his original Golden Shovel here. Using a favorite poem by someone else as your starting off point, take the words of the first line or stanza (or any favorite line from the poem). Use those words in order as the end words for each line of your new poem.
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| I'm breaking out the glo-paint for Michelle H. Barnes. She's hosting Poetry Friday this week at Today's Little Ditty. |
The poems I'm featuring today--Golden Shovels by Linda Baie, Michelle H. Barnes, and my poem based on a William Carlos Williams favorite--describe autumn in their imagery and tone.
I have to agree with Joy's (who blogs at Poetry for Kids) comment on last week's post. One of the biggest challenges in writing a Golden Shovel is dealing with line breaks. When the form requires ending on a word such as "from," "a," or "the," how does the poet make the line feel unforced? Not easy. Beginning with a haiku or other noun-rich poem, as Joy suggested, is good advice if you want to try a Golden Shovel.
Margaret Simon of Reflections on the Teche told me that poet Nikki Grimes ran a contest with this form. Although the contest is over, Grimes' explanation of the Golden Shovel is kid-friendly. Stop by her blog if you'd like to check it out and try it with your young writers.
Here is Linda Baie's contribution, followed by a few lines from her jumping-off poem, "Loss" by Carl Adamshick. Linda blogs at Teacher Dance.
The first line must be about the wind,
in October, I feel the lifting
of the trees, lighter now without the leaves,
slipping like babies turning from
the breast, into sleep, nestled in mother’s branches.
Linda Baie © All Rights Reserved
Loss
by Carl Adamshick
It is nice to be without answers
at the end of summer.
Wind lifting leaves from branches.
The moment laid down like something
in childhood and forgotten, until later,
when stumbled upon, we think:
this is where it was lost.
by Carl Adamshick
It is nice to be without answers
at the end of summer.
Wind lifting leaves from branches.
The moment laid down like something
in childhood and forgotten, until later,
when stumbled upon, we think:
this is where it was lost.
Michelle also chose a favorite line for the basis of her Golden Shovel. The words at the end of each line come from the third line of Adelaide Crapsey's "November Night." You can read "November Night" at the Poetry Foundation.
Fallen
Soft, mottled leaves, like
Grandma's hands, pause on the steps
at the threshold of
memory. A subtle passing,
in, then out, like distant ghosts.
© 2014 Michelle Heidenrich Barnes. All rights reserved.
I love the way the ghosts travel from Crapsey's poem into Michelle's original piece.
You can see me working overtime in my new Golden Shovel, trying to make the end-words feel natural. As a writing exercise, this stretched my thinking and took the poem to unexpected places.
Waterwheel
by Laura Shovan
after William Carlos Williams
Rain today, so
I’m not doing much.
Sad, how
productivity depends
upon the weather. I
put my feet up on
the hassock, read postcards
signed by “A.”--
anonymous pen-pal,
whose favorite ink is red.
Here is a card depicting
a waterwheel
in Notogowa, another
from the town of Barrow
in Alaska – photos glazed
with fingerprints
of those they traveled with
to reach me in the rain.
These cards bear
the mark of water,
smell of the perfume
samples they sat beside
in my mailbox, nestled
between the
magazines and a
flock of dull envelopes, white
as a hen house full
of chickens.
Funny... a white bird also appeared in my first Golden Shovel. Enjoy William Carlos Williams reading, "The Red Wheelbarrow."
Ever since the 2013 Poetry Postcard project, I do have a friend with whom I exchange postcards. He's not anonymous and doesn't write in red ink, but, I'm always glad to receive a postcard from poet Charles Rammelkamp. (You can read about Charles' loves of postcards at this post from 2013.) The most recent one he sent was of Prince William, Duchess Kate Middleton, and Prince George. Maybe Charles remembered that my mother is British.
