Okay, Word Daddy is missing in action. He must be on another one of his cross-country road trips. I hope his motorcycle breaks down and leaves him stranded in Tucumcari. Sorry, I shouldn’t be mean. I decided to hang with the Golden Shovel Poems in October. What can I do with a missing muse and so many great poets in the world? I’ve used William Blake, Robert Frost, and Amy Lowell for inspiration in the past. He was an interesting man. He proposed to Maud Gonne four times, and she repeatedly turned him down all four times. When that didn’t work, Yeats proposed to her daughter. She also turned him down. Yeats was the first Irish person to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. Therefore, this new poem will be titled The Nightmare.
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 Nightmare
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.
Yeats is a little darker at times. This is especially true for his poem The Second Coming. Yeats wrote it at the end of the carnage of World War I. The images he uses are dark and predict a dim future for humanity. I am conflicted about using this poem to create my own work, but I never like to back down from a challenge. I will title this poem The Nightmare.
The Nightmare So much time has flowed under the bridge that I forget what it was like to be twenty The years took feet and traveled like centuries Trapped between the yellowed pages of A book sealed with a harsh and stony Form of a silent and deadly sleep Images that are frightening and were Enough to leave my heart vexed A cunning curse of maliciousness to Remind us that the nightmare Is still alive and waiting close by With a scream and a Restless wind, rocking The limbs of the trees like a cradle.
Who is Molly Shea?
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.
Be sure to follow Molly on Twitter!
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Okay, Word Daddy is missing in action. He must be on another one of his cross-country road trips. I hope his motorcycle breaks down and leaves him stranded in Tucumcari. Sorry, I shouldn’t talk smack about my unreliable muse. I decided to hang out with the Golden Shovel Poems for a while longer. What can…
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