The Song of Orphan’s Garden Deleted Scenes
I’m sharing two poems that were deleted from the manuscript (or shortened) due to space constraints, in case anyone’s curious!
The first poem is a pantoum that I originally wrote to describe the cave. A pantoum is a poetic form where each stanza is a quatrain (four lines), and the second and fourth lines of each stanza become the first and third lines of the next stanza, creating a repeating pattern throughout the poem; the final stanza typically ends with the first line of the poem as the last line. Originally the lines were repeated exactly, but in more modern versions of the form, the repeated lines varied and just echoed each other (this is what I did in this poem).
I loved the first and last stanzas of this pantoum, but I never felt like the whole thing was perfect. We decided to cut this one for space (and I just edited the poem before it to show that it’s “a yawning ice cavern/ that stretches over [them]/ like the waves of/ a vast ocean/ frozen in time.” — a much shorter way to say this same thing.)
The Ice Cavern
I never thought I’d see beauty in the ice.
Can Winter Spirits bring anything but pain?
But stepping into the cave is like finding yourself
under the waves of a vast ocean frozen in time.
Though Winter Spirits usually bring pain,
I can’t deny the splendor of this moment
surrounded by a vast ocean of wild and wonderful waves,
a brilliant blue dome of thick translucent ice.
And the splendor of the moment is only improved
by the fact that the Winter Spirits still howl outside.
The brilliant blue dome of ice protects us from the wind,
and the shimmering walls of ice seem to undulate with each gust.
The Winter Spirits’ howls echo through a crevice high above our heads,
where the sun’s rays creep in, creating a tapestry of sapphire
that shimmers along the walls of undulating ice.
Peace, though the storm outside batters against the cave.
The sun’s rays creep under my skin, creating a tapestry of hope.
Stepping into this cave is like finding yourself.
Though fears and disappointments batter against my brain,
for this one brief moment, I see beauty in the ice.
This next poem is one that I cut a bit from. Originally Lyriana reached out and actually got to touch one of the fox pups in that scene. The deleted section was a bit of wish-fulfillment on my part (I love foxes!), but not really important for the scene. Here’s the poem with that part still in (the part that was cut is in blue. And the red line was added in a later edit to highlight the fact that Lyriana was still unsure about this journey!):
The Promise of New Life
I hear the rushing
of Ymir River,
the longest river
in all of Gairda,
before I see it.
I pull Mama’s map
from my pack.
Consult it.
The songs of my people
tell us the Ymir flows
farther into
the Winter Blight
than anyone
has ever ventured.
Have we reached
unexplored land?
Feels like we left
civilization
behind weeks ago.
Only the center
of the vast waterway
still flows freely;
the rest of the river is
frozen over,
its powerful current buried
under a thick crust of ice.
The vibration
against my heartstring
thrums harder
when I face downstream,
so I start to turn that way.
Zave giggles and points
back toward a group of trees.
“Lyrie, look!”
he says
in an exaggerated whisper.
At first I am not sure
what he sees,
but my eye catches
movement.
A brown arctic fox pup
wiggles out of his den,
followed closely by another.
The pups are so small
I could fit one into
my two cupped hands.
They are so close,
it would take only
six strides to touch them.
I put a finger to my lips
so Zave knows not to
make a sound
then crouch down
ever so slowly
to get a better look.
Zave crouches too,
a lot less stealthily than I,
but the pups do not notice.
They are too busy
pouncing
on the
five fox
siblings
who scramble
out of the den behind them.
Papa Fox is last of all,
his sleek white
winter coat a contrast
to their browns and grays.
He keeps a steady eye
on his pups as they play.
And on us too.
But he lets us stay
and watch the show.
nipping
dashing
tipping
tumbling
spinning
stumbling
scratching
stalking
crashing
leaping
pawing
bounding
gnawing
wriggling
pups
For a few minutes I forget
cold’s vicious threat,
the journey ahead,
and even the call
of The Composer.
Zave giggles in delight
when a pup tries to
tackle
his brother,
only to miss and find himself
in a bumbling somersault.
The pup’s ears twitch
at the sound of Zave’s laughter,
but instead of running away
he stalks steadily toward us
belly low to the ground
eyes wary but curious.
Zave reaches out
a mittened hand.
The little pup sniffs it.
I pull off my glove
and offer up bare fingers
for examination.
Whiskers tickle my palm.
I even chance one quick
stroke of his velvety fur
before Papa Fox barks shrilly
warning him it is time to
move away from
the danger of humans.
We back up a few paces
to let Papa know
we mean no harm.
I slide my glove back on.
My hand stings from the cold,
but the moment
was worth the pain.
When Mama Fox shows up
with three fish in her mouth,
the frolicking stops
and the pups bound back
into the den after her.
“Awww, they’re leaving,”
Zave says as we stand.
“You can draw me a picture
of them tonight
so we can remember
them forever.”
His eyes light up,
making me thankful
I made room in our pack
for a few of his favorite
art supplies.
“Do you think there’ll be foxes
in Orphan’s Garden?”
“Definitely.
And hares and lemmings
and more birds
than you can count.”
“It’s going to be paradise!”
I laugh and grab his hand.
“Come on then,
paradise is waiting for us.”
Please, let it be waiting for us.
Our steps are lighter now
as we head downstream,
following
the persistent thrum
of the garden.
And one last thing to share. This is the original (and proper) formatting of Brob’s blitz poem “What It Takes.” A blitz poem has VERY specific rules, even down to the exact words that need to be used in the title (you can find an easy-to-read bullet list of the rules on this post on the Writer’s Digest website).
Because of all these rules, this poem was probably the most difficult to write (I chuckled just now when I read on Writer’s Digest that it’s easy – perhaps that’s true if you don’t need to poem to say something very specific to fit into an important moment in a verse novel?) I literally created the poem in its own Excel spreadsheet because that was the easiest way for me to keep track of the lines, test out phrases, and move things around. But while it was possibly the most difficult, it was also the most satisfying when I got it just perfect! This is one of my favorite poems in the book.
When I decided to write Brob’s POV in mostly couplets, I changed the formatting to fit his style. I think it worked, but the original still sings to me in a special way. I wanted to share it with you here. (Try reading it aloud very quickly, pausing only to breathe.)
What It Takes
No more lonely days
No matter what
What a surprise
What a joke
Joke’s on me
Joke with my friends
Friends indeed
Friends in need
Need to confess
Need to relax
Relax my expectations
Relax and enjoy these last few days
Days of sunshine
Days of wonder
Wonder of wonders
Wonder when they’ll figure it out
Out of luck
Out in the cold
Cold feet
Cold shoulder
Shoulder the burden
Shoulder it on your own
Own your mistakes
Own up to what you can’t fix
Fix what you can
Fix a smile on your face
Face the music
Face the facts
Fact is, it’s all coming to an end
Fact of life
Life is about to change
Life is what you make it
It’s all your fault
It’s what you wanted
Wanted the king to come
Wanted the humans gone
Gone but not forgotten
Gone but you’ll never forget
Forget how you betrayed them
Forget the start of it all
All of them will disappear
All because of you
You won’t let that happen
You know what to do
Do better
Do what it takes
Take a second
Take a chance
Second…
Chance…
