Whoa, boy. If there is a form of poetry that takes your hand and leads you off the garden path completely, it’s the Golden Shovel. In case you need a refresher, here’s how one works:
First, you choose a line from a poem you admire or want to tip your hat to. In this case, my poetry sisters and I agreed to pluck something from Elizabeth Bishop’s Letter to NY, which is such a fine, fine poem that basically begs to be read aloud. The line I chose was “and the meter glares like a moral owl” because of the owl, yes, but in particular the moral owl, because what a beautiful, curious, steamy little phrase to tuck into this conversational list of city comings and goings.
OK, next, you use each word in the borrowed line as the endpoints for the lines that will make up a new poem of your own. Practically, this just means writing the Elizabeth Bishop line vertically, one word at a time, down the right hand side of the paper, and writing to those words.
Now, see my note above regarding the garden path! There is something about having to write to what feel like random floating words on the outside edge of the paper that just removes control completely. It’s kind of a trip. Thanks for reading along to see where I landed.
Oh, PS — I used another partial line from Bishop’s poem as my title. Just for kicks.
Loud but Somehow Dim
A Golden Shovel after Elizabeth Bishop’s Letter to NY
Liz Garton Scanlon
I tick off my worst qualities, start with “lack of confidence” and
“wasting time”. (The list capitalizes on both of these.) The
list measures me against myself, operates as a meter
keeping count without context or clemency. The list glares
at me with ballpointed fury, like I should do better, like
my lack of imagination is the problem. Like a list (a
list like this) should have footnotes and moral
arguments, like I should play badger. Or snake. Or owl.
Read all the others here:
Sara
Laura
Tricia
Tanita
Mary Lee
And enjoy Poetry Friday at Karen Edmisten’s blog today!
Oh, I love how we both chose the same line and went completely different places with it! I love the sly humor in this: (The list capitalizes on both of these.) And the conversational tone, which lets us inside the poet’s head to twist along with her. And that ending! Magnificent.
Oh, I *love* this. You wrapped what could have been a nonsense line in wire and electrified it with personality, going inward to sort of highlighting the little battles we all fight with ourselves. I adore the phrase, “with ballpointed fury.” Legion are the listings of my own failings with that angry pen.
Ballpointed fury! I know that list all too well. I love the meta-ness of this poem, Liz.
Certainly no wasting time in this poem, Liz. Eight tight lines tell me so much about the narrator. And so fun to read, with glaring lists and ballpointed fury!
The second line made me laugh out loud (The list capitalizes on both of these.)
You’ve worked magic with this line. I love that you and Sara chose the same line and went in such wildly different directions.
Fabulous work. Thanks for sharing.
Liz, I finally found a way into your blog. Your poem is tight with interesting lines and word choice. You certainly did not waste time on this poem. The following lines is insightful.
The list glares
at me with ballpointed fury
Have a wonderful weekend.
Pure genius, I’d say. And I love the way the title fits so well.
Placing this poem next to Sara’s starkly shows how different approaches to the same line can be refreshing and satisfying. I get into ruts so easily when writing, the list of “lack of confidence” is especially long. You brought me in and led me through and made me feel like I was connected to you like a circle around Sara’s fire playing owl.
Oh, Liz! I love this so much.
“…glares at me with ballpointed fury.” Yes!
Can you nail going off the garden path? Because yes, yes, you did.
(And so fascinatingly different from Sara’s. Love that, too.)
Wow, love the garden path you took us on, into you, and how you turned these few words, remodeling them especially your use of meter and moral. And what a clever way to title your poem, thanks for this new journey!