First please check out this absolutely gorgeous poem from the English poet, Robert Herrick.
The Coming of Good Luck
So Good-Luck came, and on my roof did light,
Like noiseless snow, or as the dew of night;
Not all at once, but gently, as the trees
Are by the sunbeams, tickled by degrees.
by Robert Herrick (1591-1674）
Inspired (and not in the mood to do my day job), I decided to try and craft a Golden Shovel poem from the line “Are by the sunbeams, tickled by degrees”. If your not familiar with the Golden Shovel poetic form, here is a description. Also, if your interested in trying this form out, I’m currently running an experimental collaborative project called “Get Your Golden Shovel”, which you’re welcome to join.
Winter Worn Souls
Winter worn souls are
Warmed by
Midsummer night campfires, heads resting upon the
Birchwood log pillows heated by the day’s sunbeams.
Memories tickled
Awake by
The cold, clear nights’ stars shimmering in the sky for 360 degrees.
I might continue to work on this and expand to include more (or even all) of the lines from the original poem. The line “Like noiseless snow, or as the dew of night;” would also be a wonderful line to work with.
Be well,
Monty
Monty’s Blahg 