Yesterday I wrote a “Golden Shovel Poem,” which is written by using at least one line from an existing poem and using each word in the line(s) as the ending word in each line of a new poem. My inspiration was this poem by Emily Dickinson, and I used the words in the first stanza. Each line became a stanza in my new poem. I’m pretty happy with this poem, for a first attempt and will probably try to write another one, since it was fun to write.
The only thing that matters is hope,
No matter how flighty and fleeting it is,
It is the sturdy rope, the
Kindly tether to patience and joy; and another thing:
It is not false, no ploy, no drawbacks with
It; it gives the soul a song, and feathers.
There is a menace that
Haunts me like Poe’s raven, perches
In my life, in my mind, even in
My rest, a looming test with the
Heaviest consequences for my soul.
My soul flies, not unlike Icarus, and
Some unknown melody it sings,
Shakily, no virtuoso but stumbling over the
Enigmatic and disjointed tune;
Yet this song is something I cannot live without,
A newfound guide into the
Unknown, as I find words.
So, hope is a guide, a shield, and
I will choose to keep fighting, never
Giving up, until one day when suffering stops.
On this earth there is tribulation, staring at
Evil, but to the soul, indomitable, it is not all.