Golden Poetry Friday

This is a repost of my Monday, Memorial Day post - with a few additions and revisions:

I was reading, Laura Salas' Golden Shovel poem creation.  I had heard of Golden Shovel before, but wasn't sure what it was, so I looked it up.  It looked like fun!
Grab a line of poetry.  Use each word in the line in order as the last word in each of the new poem's lines.  Make sure to credit the original author.
I decided to give it a go - if I could actually find a book of poetry in this awful mess I've created around me in the process of packing, tossing and yard-saling for our move to Gull Haven.

I did find one book without unpacking or digging:

This one was still unpacked in a stack of books on a box in the kitchen.  It was a book of Rupert Brooke's poetry "1914 and Other Poems".  It actually has more than at that link; it is two collections in one volume.  The second part of the book is just Poems by Rupert Brooke.  My eye happened upon "The Voice" first, in the second part of the volume and it made me laugh.  I'll let you listen to it first, being read by Heine Smek.

Further searches brought me to the Rupert Brooke's Society page and an article about his life in The New Yorker online.  After finding "The Treasure" written in August of 1914, in the book, I also found it online.  It was this one I decided to use for my Golden Shovel Poem.

The Treasure

by Rupert Brooke

When colour goes home into the eyes,
   And lights that shine are shut again,
With dancing girls and sweet birds' cries
   Behind the gateways of the brain;
And that no-place which gave them birth, shall close
The rainbow and the rose: -
Still may Time hold some golden space
   Where I'll unpack that scented store
Of song and flower and sky and face,
   And count, and touch, and turn them o'er,
Musing upon them; as a mother, who
Has watched her children all the rich day through,
Sits, quiet-handed, in the fading light,
When children sleep, ere night.
August 1914

I selected the highlighted line to write my "Golden Shovel Poem".   It came out in one sitting with no edits.  It must have been the right line.  And I think it was affected by the mood of "The Voice", as select words were lifted from that poem also.

Treasure in Night
from Rupert Brooke's "The Treasure"

She, in solitude, sits,
The night speaks in quiet
Voice and she is handed,
The keys to a thousand dreams in
Place of the
Touch of his hand, memory fading
As the sun makes real in the light.

by Donna JT Smith, May 29, 2017 (102 years later!)

Today is a day like no other.  Go find a poem to befriend!
There are definitely some great links being posted over at Buffy's Blog!


  1. I love how you took something old and made it new!

    1. It was a good brain and word exercise turned poem!

  2. Oh, this was a beast like the Hopkins - a long, rich poem and lots to work with. I think you did an amazing job.

    1. Thanks, Tanita. I loved both of yours, especially the first. I tried commenting but need to log in...have to get my login info again, I guess. You might want to turn that'd get more comments if there weren't another step.

  3. After reading so many 'golden shovels', I think it's time to see if I can write one, too. I'm glad you found the Rupert Brooks, a poet I've found to touch me in his words often. He died so young, but left us with beauty for remembering him. I love what you did with this line, Donna, that interesting phrase "The night speaks in quiet" especially.

    1. You will take to it like a duck to water, I'm sure!!

  4. Thanks for introducing me to Rupert Brooks--and for making his poem new again!

    1. I found this book at a used furniture/books store, and he was "new" to me, too, at the time.

  5. A great book to have laying around during a move. I like your golden shovel. Such a wonderful lot of them this week.

  6. What a treat to read so many Golden Shovels this week! The stars must have aligned to have one just fall into place for you. Great job, Donna!

    1. Thanks, Michelle! It was a fun exercise and I will have to try again soon.

  7. I loved joining you on your search for the poem to use for your Golden Shovel poem. Well done with the poem. And good luck with your move!

  8. I remember learning about Rupert Brooks in school, but hadn't thought about his words in years. What a lovely reminder!

  9. Oh, my goodness! It was certainly the week for the golden shovel. They are all over the PF contributions. I love the original poem. The date on it though....just reminds me of The Guns of August. It's so tender and pretty and gentle.
    Your line was so ripe with possibility and became such a rich poem. It's lovely, night speaking.


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