Grace Poole Story Followup

The following poem represents how I felt after discovering that my Grace Poole story did not win a prize in the 2014 Bronte Society Creative Competition. (I'd daydreamed of winning ... but hadn't really expected to.)

Bronte Society Dreams

“It honors me to be with you 

In this long-hallowed, verdant spot.” 

That’s what I’d planned to say, it’s true, 

Had I but won; but I did not. 

I would have flown “across the pond” 

To London, and then made my way 

Far north, through Bradford and beyond 

To Haworth, for that festive day. 

My entrance would have been so grand 

As if from centuries far gone: 

My vest, my tie’s neat four-in-hand;

My polished boots upon the lawn. 

In tones so sonorous and bold 

I would have read, to great acclaim, 

A passage from my tale that told 

How first Grace Poole to Thornfield came. 

I would have gladdened every heart 

With modesty and piety 

As I paid tribute through my art 

To the Bronte Society. 

When Grace’s destiny drew nigh 

As she approached the Hall’s great door, 

Assembled guests would heave a sigh, 

Despondent that they’d hear no more. 

Then unexpectedly would rise 

A wave of loud applause and cheering; 

I’d bow my head and close my eyes 

And relish all that I was hearing. 

But no, alas, ’twas not to be; 

My tale remains a song unheard. 

And now I must salute those three 

Whose writings our judge had preferred. 

I hope they liked their Haworth stay

As they reaped the rewards of winning. 

Perhaps I’ll tread those paths one day 

Thanks to a new tale I’m beginning.