The Blue Bird Flies

NaPoWriMo Day#5: Write a “golden shovel.” This form was invented by Terrance Hayes in his poem, The Golden Shovel. The last word of each line of Hayes’ poem is a word from Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem We Real Cool.

 

The poem I’ve chosen to shovel-ize is Langston Hughes’s beautiful Dreams:

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

 

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow. 

 

The shovel-ized version:

I slip from your hold

Falling freely, falling fast

With nothing to hold on to

I fly with my dreams.

 

What was I holding back for?

If only I had fallen sooner, only if

I’d known how beautiful were my dreams

I wouldn’t have let them die

So silently, condemning myself to a life

Where I forgot what love is,

A life where exhaustion reigned, a

World were every day left me feeling broken-winged

Never realizing I was a blue bird

So tiny, so insignificant that

I often feel I cannot

Let go, never knowing I can fly.

 

I slip from your hold

Falling freely, falling fast

With nothing to hold on to

I fly with my dreams.

 

What was I holding back for?

If only I had fallen sooner, only if

I’d known how beautiful were my dreams

I wouldn’t have let them go

So easily, condemning myself to a life

Where I forgot what love is,

A life where exhaustion reigned, a

World where days were barren

Like a drought fed field,

An existence so frozen

That I’d forgotten that with

My song, I could make it snow. 

 

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3 thoughts on “The Blue Bird Flies

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