Love’s Singed Feathers

This is my attempt at the “shovel poem” form, in which you use a line/words from another poem.  The last word in each line forms the line of the poem you’ve chosen.  “Hope Is the Thing With Feathers”, by Emily Dickinson, follows my poem (also links to form & Emily’s poem).

Fallen from head-spinning height, heart without hope

Lying on sand where tender wavelets touch, whisper: is

Her soul still present, sighing, or shall we beckon the

Angels?  How quiet the wind, far-off wings…poor thing

She’s bereft, tears spilled on crushed pale seashells; with

Dregs of fantasy drained dry, and love’s singed feathers

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Let it die.


“Hope” is the thing with feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.

10 thoughts on “Love’s Singed Feathers

  1. Yay, I am so happy to see this! I am so glad you gave the poetic form a shot. 😀

    You created a beautiful piece as you reworked Dickinson’s lines with your poem. I love the meaning behind this, along with the imagery. It is poignant, it is tragically beautiful, weaving in themes of reflection at something akin to loss or perhaps a loss in love? So many themes to pick from here. I love that. This is an excellent piece penned with delicacy and elegance.

    Liked by 1 person

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