Okay, I decided to hang with the Golden Shovel Poems longer. I can’t help myself. It’s not my fault there are so many great poets in the world. I’ve used William Blake and Robert Frost for inspiration. It’s time for me to take advantage of one of the women poetresses. When I read Jo Jo Moyes’ The Giver of Stars, I was reminded of Amy Lowell. I read her work in the past and decided to explore her poetry for a while. Therefore, this new poem will be titled The Flame.
Terrance Hayes invented the Golden Shovel style of poetry. This form of found poetry allows the writer to take a favorite poem and use it to make something original. I experimented with found poetry last year when I wrote Blank Verse poems. Now, I am having fun writing Golden Shovel Poetry.
The rules for writing a Golden Shovel Poem and The Flame
While researching this style of poetry created by Terrance Hayes, there seem to be four simple rules. You can use as many lines of the poem as you want, and the poem will end with you being your creation. I find this idea interesting. Written below are the three simple rules.
2)Use each word in the line or lines as the end word in your poem. Make sure they stay in order.
3) Construct an entire poem around them. The meaning doesn’t have to be the same.
4) Give the original poet credit who wrote the line or lines you used.
Here are a few quick facts about Amy Lowell. She was the leading poet in the Imaginist School. This woman never attended college and considered herself a social outcast when she was young. She was an avid reader and book collector. Also, she publicly smoked cigars, which was outrageous for a woman then. Pieces of the poem The Giver of Stars by Amy Lowell will appear at the end of each line of this poem. I will title The Flame.
The Flame I wish I had told you that This wasn’t the dream to fall into The idea was too fragile, and my Ambitions didn’t have strong limbs To hang onto come what may Ideas as fragile as they come Somewhere between success and the Dimming desperate keenness The stuff nightmares are made of The embers in a smoldering fire There was no understanding the Cost that would come into your life Measured by a short stick and The sudden loss of joy I just couldn't conceive of All the waging tongues That were a reflection of The fire we set that became a flame
Molly Shea is an accomplished fictional short story writer from Indiana who writes short stories and novels about a fictional town called Tecumseh. To read more of her short stories and adventures, click here.
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