Sally Murphy, just back to school Way Down Under, is graciously hosting the Roundup today. Take a trip to Sally's for your poem feast!
Last week, I learned about the Golden Shovel poetic form when I discovered Nikki Grimes' book One Last Word. Grimes plays tribute to Harlem Renaissance poets by creating original poems around the words of first lines in their poems. She works with a "striking line" and incorporates the words of this line as the last words in the lines of her new poem.
Last week, I learned about the Golden Shovel poetic form when I discovered Nikki Grimes' book One Last Word. Grimes plays tribute to Harlem Renaissance poets by creating original poems around the words of first lines in their poems. She works with a "striking line" and incorporates the words of this line as the last words in the lines of her new poem.
Nikki Grimes uses a poem in the public domain by Jean Toomer as one of her source poems.
Storm Ending
Thunder blossoms gorgeously above our heads,
Great, hollow, bell-like flowers,
Rumbling in the wind,
Stretching clappers to strike our ears…
Full-lipped flowers
Bitten by the sun
Bleeding rain
Dripping rain like golden honey —
And the sweet earth flying from the thunder.The first line inspires new verse in which Grimes reminds us that
The truth is, every
day we rise is like thunder—
a clap of surprise. Could be echoes of
trouble, or blossoms
of blessing.
The poem continues, though I was perusing this volume in my local bookstore, so I don't have more of the poem to share. The book has vivid illustrations by many contemporary African American artists, including my friend Jan Spivey Gilchrist!
I found that Terrance Hayes wrote the first golden shovel sourcing the Gwendolyn Brooks poem, "We Real Cool." So I was ready for something new this week. I wonder if any Poetry Friday friends have tried this form. If anyone has shared golden shovel poems here and I've missed them, I'd love to read them.
I found that Terrance Hayes wrote the first golden shovel sourcing the Gwendolyn Brooks poem, "We Real Cool." So I was ready for something new this week. I wonder if any Poetry Friday friends have tried this form. If anyone has shared golden shovel poems here and I've missed them, I'd love to read them.
Maine summer poems have been on my mind lately - too much winter up here already, and I'm down south in New Hampshire! I googled "Maine poems" and found this one by Kate Barnes, Maine's first poet laureate, which I used as my source poem.
Neighborliness
In Maine we're used to it, it's still
the custom to look out for the neighbors, a habit
handed down from the start
of the earliest fishing villages, of the first
long strings of hundred-acre farms
stretched along ridges, each one usually
just called, "The Road."
In Maine we're used to it, it's still
the custom to look out for the neighbors, a habit
handed down from the start
of the earliest fishing villages, of the first
long strings of hundred-acre farms
stretched along ridges, each one usually
just called, "The Road."
The entire poem can be read here, a beautiful tribute to communities watching over one another.
I took the first line as my striking line. The word neighborliness just wanted to creep in there, but I'm not so satisfied with the last line of this draft. It sounds too adult for a kid's poem. I'm open to suggestions!
All in all, I enjoyed the process and will certainly dig up another poem with a golden shovel provided by a poem I like.
All in all, I enjoyed the process and will certainly dig up another poem with a golden shovel provided by a poem I like.
In Maine we're used to it, it's still
after Kate Barnes
When rain, snow and sleet hang on in
March, up here in Maine
we’re
holding fast to what we used
to love last year - canoes to paddle, waves to jump, clams to
dig, marshmallows to roast, fish to catch, and all it
means to be summer in a land with it’s
fill of frontier wonder and neighborliness still.
~Joyce Ray © all rights reserved
A Golden Shovel Poem
borrowing words from the first line of “Neighborliness,” by Kate Barnes, Maine Poet Laureate Emerita.
