THE TRUTH ABOUT GNOMES

On By poems of garden gnomesIn Uncategorized

Let’s look at the gnomenclature.

They’re called sprites, elves, goblins, imps, brownies, dwarves, hobgoblins, archfiends, gremlins, pixies and trolls. They’re even referred to as runts, little folk and little people.

But the truth about gnomes is… they are not “vertically challenged”. They’re short. Really short. No matter their demeanor, even if they’re not being short with you, they are short.

So to start things off, we’ll ask you to delve into a short poem. Micro-poetry is considered any poem of fourteen lines or less. So a sonnet will suffice. A rhyming couplet would be nice. A tercet, or pi-ku, or haiku, a tanka, a quatrain, or… you know the forms. Find one that will allow you to say what you need to in a small way.

Among the topics you could consider:

the Eclipse, a return poem, something small… or whatever your muse will let you use. Write a little bit of a poem. And welcome back to the garden!

Walt’s Little Bit:

SMALL STUFF

“Don’t sweat the small stuff!”

It’s all small stuff.
All the bits and trifles
could go off like rifles if we let them.
Applying a spark to our powder
would only make our words louder,
but what we mean can be seen
in the smallest of terms.
Until we’re food for the worms,
we will get through what we need to do.
We’ve been giving sweat and tears for years,
but enough is enough. Don’t sweat the small stuff!
It’s all small stuff!

125 thoughts on “THE TRUTH ABOUT GNOMES”

  2. GO LONG

    A game of catch stretched
    from yard to yard.
    The kids in the neighborhood,
    all came to stand in line,
    a chance to take part.
    A football, and a Dad
    as quarterback calling the shots.
    The have and have nots
    were all-star receivers.
    Short to the trees.
    Out near the bushes.
    Long near the house next door.
    The little guys made the trees.
    Most went for the bushes.
    I’d look to Dad and he’d wink.
    That meant only one thing.
    Don’t let the ball hit the house.
    It rarely ever did. Go long.

    *Returning to a moment with Dad

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  3. No Gnomes in my garden, yet…but there are and have been angels:

    ODE TO THE FORGOTTEN ANGEL

    Once you stood proud amongst the rose and lavender.
    Once you were the focus of this garden’s core.
    But years have brought decay of mind and time.
    Now, bound and cinched with weeds, you drown,
    choking on tears that fall from heaven above,
    while you sink into oblivion, lost to love.

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  4. Mary Mansfield

    She danced with shadows
    In altered light,
    Through a dimensional slip
    Into total darkness,
    Her soul temporarily eclipsed,
    Waiting to be rebirthed
    Into brighter days.

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  6. RETURN TO POEMIA

    He reverts back to where he started,
    now a ghost of his former self.
    A crack had developed in his resolve,
    and solving cryptic word puzzles
    never allowed him to free his mind
    in the ways he was used to.
    His poetic hand was worn and tired
    and he had retired from poemic pursuits.
    But the new recruits didn’t know enough
    to check his myriad of work.
    A once “big deal” had gotten sick of lurking
    in the shadows; he thought
    he ought to get back to expressing
    what his heart wrongly guessed was best left unsaid!
    It was better to come back from the dead!

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  7. Pingback: SMALL STUFF – THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART

  9. My Aunt had gnomes
    in her front yard – lined
    up as a strange squadron
    At six -confused them with
    grottoed Madonna next door –
    wondering what it was my
    mysterious Aunt practiced
    recently she left for good
    yet here I see her in your
    garden – gnomes smile as
    would she …

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  10. Aaaaaaand how do we keep from getting inundated with e-mails? Every time someone likes or responds to anything I’ve commented on, I get an e-mail notification. Help! 😀

    Note: I have not checked “Notify me of new comments via email,” nor “Notify me of new posts via email.”

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          2. Well, it didn’t work as well as I thought. I’m still getting a ton of e-mail notifications. I guess there happened to be a lull right after you did your tweaking. I keep trying to figure out if there is something I can do from my end, but I sure don’t see anything.

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  12. Pingback: Christina’s World | echoes from the silence

  13. Well, maybe I can’t subscribe, but I can add my short poem. 😉

    It’s a Pithy

    “It’s pithy, your style”
    he opined with a smile
    (I thought he meant short – as in brief)
    But much later I learned, to my grief,
    he meant crusty and curt,
    blunt and terse
    maybe worse

    (not merely
    less long, more succinct,
    as I had initially
    thinked)

    PSC /2017

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  14. Hmmm … I can’t comment on the poems that have been posted. There is “like” star, but no way for me to comment on individual poems. Also, I received notifications on comments intended for me, but out here on the site, I can’t figure out who is commenting on which poems. All poems and comments are lined up alike. The lil gnomes are giggling behind the scenes, as they mess with your garden tools! 😉

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    1. I’m looking into the problem, Pard. Seems a few gremlins have infiltrated Gnomeville!

      Does there show a comment counter under the title? If there is, click there to open comments. Also, make sure you open the post in its own page. The comments box will appear below. The design may change if it keeps presenting problems. I’m even battling the lack of the dashboard to manage this, but it is a work in process, so we’ll survive!

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  16. Eclipsed By Peace

    I didn’t watch the eclipse
    rather I sat on the patio
    and watched the twilight
    sneak across the yard.
    Strange shadows grew
    the temperature dropped
    crickets sang, the birds
    were silent and still.
    It was timeless for a time
    tranquil, a little unreal
    but a beau ideal of eternity.

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  17. In Short

    Morning is morning: things happen
    with your notice or not.

    A boy with a basketball goal
    is a heartbeat. The wind

    is a fish fanning the koi pond.
    A bed of zinnias

    gives live birth to three goldfinches.
    And so forth and so on.

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  18. CHRISTINA’S WORLD

    Simply put,
    her corner in life
    was smaller
    than most owned.
    Yet, in the smallness, she had
    more than she hoped for.

    2017-08-22
    P. Wanken

    Inspired by Andrew Wyeth’s painting of the same name.

    Liked by 5 people

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  21. connielpeters

    In the Garden

    A bit of black earth
    Underneath my fingernails
    Shows I’ve been gardening

    A bit of a smile
    Flowing from my fingertips
    Shows I’ve been poeming

    Liked by 11 people

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  23. MY GARDEN GNOMES

    They carry garden tools
    but live in the house.

    They have a job to do
    and it’s not gardening.
    They are my Finder Gnomes.

    ‘Silly,’ says my friend. ‘They
    aren’t alive. It’s your angels.’

    All I know is, when I lose
    anything, I ask them.
    Then it turns up.

    Liked by 5 people

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  25. It’s a Small Matter

    it felt real,
    as real as a shadow,
    or a wrinkle
    across the water.
    dreams feel like that.
    this one was bright
    as an orange lamp,
    and the sky was smooth
    and waiting.
    I dreamt
    that I couldn’t sleep.
    It was a small matter.

    Liked by 8 people

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