The poet extraordinaire, Brian Moses, published this poetry writing prompt on Twitter yesterday. Following our brief exchange, this story literally fell out of me. I would really appreciate some feedback. It is a fifteen-minute first draft, as I was supposed to be cleaning before my visitors arrived …
Note – Edited following feedback from Marcela and Michael O Connor.
Home
Chris was raised in a happy town, full of happy homes.
In the garden of every home there was a happy gnome.
On the outskirts of the happy town,
Lived a sour old woman who never smiled.
She shuffled along the High Street,
Glowering at the sky.
Chris asked his dad who she was.
He said he didn’t know.
Once Chris saw her in the Baker’s, she bought just one bread roll.
He asked the Baker who she was. He said he didn’t know.
Once Chris saw her in the Butcher’s, she bought two chicken thighs.
He asked the Butcher who she was. She said she didn’t know.
He saw her in the Greengrocer’s, she bought two tomatoes and an overripe banana.
Chris asked the Greengrocer who she was. He said he didn’t know.
On his birthday, Chris saw the old woman shuffling along the High Street.
He smiled at her with his eyes.
She did not see him; she was glowering at the sky.
So, Chris followed the old woman all the way home.
To the outskirts of the happy town.
Where her house stood all alone.
And she didn’t have a gnome.
Chris ran back to his happy home,
Unearthed his gran’s shopping trolley,
Ate his birthday meal, blew out his candles and waited until after dark.
In the happy town, everyone was fast asleep in their happy homes.
Chris trundled resolutely by and he stole all their gnomes.
On the day after Chris’s birthday,
The old woman rose.
She drew back the curtains and glowered at the sky.
A technicolour blanket of happy gnomes grinned back at her.
The old lady smiled.
Thank you, Nicola, for your poem – story, I like the rhythm that you created. I wonder now what is going to happen to the old lady and Jack. It leaves with you the question ‘What is happiness?’ Very philosophical!
Thank you, Marcela. 🙌🏾
Your question and the idea of it being philisopical – which I hadn’t considered – has me thinking, ‘What is loneliness?’ 😶
I’ve had a little play with the rhythm of the story to tighten it up a bit.
My first question is – what would the other people think about having their gnomes stolen? Would they all be on board?
I also was interested in why the woman was glowering at the sky (specifically). It seems like she is angry at something greater/celestial/spiritual?
I was curious about the specific things she bought. I wondered if they had some kind of significance.
I like the fairy tale ish three-of the shopping trip
Thanks for your questions, Billybeanwrites!
I consider gnomes to be ‘objets d’joy’; they make passers-by smile. With the old lady excluded from the happy community, I consider Chris in gnome-napping mode to be a Robin Hood figure. I reckon that the gnomeless will only feel gnomeless if the happiness I described was superficial.
I 🧡 looking at the sky – it helps me escape from and reconnect with the world all at once. Throughout the story, I never really considered what the old lady was glowering at specifically or even if she was glowering at all. I still don’t know if her mind is still or overwhelmed. For me, it was a way of distancing her from everyone in the happy town; it also meant she didn’t ‘see’ Chris when he was the only one to ‘see’ her.
As for the grocery list – it’s changed significantly.
1) bread roll, 2 slices of ham, two apples
2) bread roll, 2 chicken thighs, two tomatoes and an overripe banana.
I wanted her shopping list to be brief – nothing fancy and small quantities. I wanted to show she cooks. I’m still not sure who she is, so I’m still not sure about what she eats. The ‘overripe banana’ Chris notices might be a plantain or she might like overripe bananas. Who do you think she is?
The open tale in this poem is lovely. The old lady – doesn’t matter who she is. What might matter is that people do not care enough to know. The gnomes are like the people who pass her every day without acknowledging who she is. Yet here, at the end the old woman smiles because the people have come to her garden .Now they are the nameless, unknown, the ones who live in the garden and we see them but we do not know them. You may never have intended this interpretation but we all read differently and this is my reading of an awesome poem that tells us the way forward is inclusion of all. Lovely.
I could imagine this as a picturebook. Worth a query.
That’s very kind Michael and interesting, as that was how I ‘saw’ it, too. To be honest, I thought I was being lazy and allowing the illustrator to do all of the work. Matt de la Peña’s ‘Last Stop on Market Street’ was an inspiration mashed up with the original interaction with Brian Moses.
I’ve had a little play with the story; you’ve given me the confidence to develop it. Thank you. 🙌🏾
For me this read almost as a fable. I liked the repeated lines and the rhyme. I could imagine this would work quite well read aloud at quite a pace. I think this is because it reminded me a little of ‘The Old Lady Who Swallowed A Fly’.
At times it was a bit sticky, and I think you could work on building up a bit of a consistent rhythm when read aloud – but it has potential for something I think both adults and children would enjoy to hear performed.
Thank you, Ross.
I was thinking of it as a fable-type story 🤮, see my response to Billybeanwrites. Whilst I like the ‘mouth-feel-appeal’ of gnomes and homes and the rhythm of the opening, I didn’t really see it as a poem until feedback from Marcela and Michael O’Connor.
I know what you mean about sticky bits. My challenge is to continue tightening up the structure and rhyming without it descending into something twee. I feel a bit like I did when I was little when I’d draw something with potential and ruin it by ‘over colouring’. 😨 Continuing to read what is becoming a ‘fable-poem’ aloud (to myself and others) will be a useful strategy. 🧡