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Poets create marvels of linguistic delights about anything and everything… but what about nothing?  Can your Muse capture the essence of nothing? This could be the hardest challenge your Muse has ever faced!  I look forward to reading your take on the subject of “Nothing” in the comments section below.

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In Praise of Nothing 

Nothing taunts my tranquil mind
Or haunts the hymn I sing.
Nothing kills the joy entwined
In thrills the day may bring.
Nothing robs my eyes of sun.
Nothing foils my fling with fun.
Nothing leaves my heart undone…
That’s how I’ve come to find
Nothing governs dreams within—
Nothing’s everything.

—Susan Jarvis Bryant

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Post your poem on “Nothing” in the comments section below.

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90 Responses

  1. Bruce Pearl

    Catullus V
    Come live with me, my sweet, and be my love,
    Weighing all the old men’s stern reproaches
    For what they really are – and that’s nothing.
    The sun sets, and yet, once more approaches
    Each day. For us, when the light dies: we’re done.
    The night in which we sleep is eternal.
    So, give me a thousand kisses, and then a hundred,
    And then a thousand more: the total so infernal
    That none may keep count or know what to think –
    And so perhaps safe from that jaundiced wink.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Bruce, thank you for being the first to embrace my challenge with a poem that intrigues and delights. I will admit to having to look up Catullus V – how perfect!

      Reply
      • Bruce Pearl

        If the first line sounds familiar, Christopher Marlowe borrowed it for his, The Passionate Shepherd to his Love.

  2. fred schueler

    On 03-Oct.-19 10:08 a.m., Ed Norman wrote:

    > We had a good meeting last week, discussing Chapter 2 of Jim Holt’s book, Why Does The World Exist?, along with the usual diversions.

    On 03-Oct.-2019 10:30 a.m., Aleta Karstad wrote (from Kelowna):

    > Take notes for me, please. I’m very interested in what various people/cultures have said about Nothing. Also interested in concepts of Time

    * Why does the world Exist?
      it is a quirky twist
      to wonder if there’s here & there
      a thing that most have missed.

    >  we will tackle Chapter 3, “A Brief History of Nothing”

      Is nothing anything?
      what song do no-things sing?
      black matter anthems fill the void –
      with energetic zing.

    >  See you Oct. 10 at 7:30 PM in the upstairs room at the church.

      Does time go back or forth?
      do quanta have recourse
      to entropy or symmetry
      that fill us with remorse?

    Reply
    • fred schueler

      this discussion led to a proliferation of memes on the theme of “Vote for Nobody! Nobody tells the truth! Nobody can balance the budget, Nobody can get Alberta off fossil fuels!”

      Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Fred, how utterly thought provoking and creative… philosophical food for thought that is an asset to this page. Thank you!

      Reply
  3. Phil S. Rogers

    Susan; Such an interesting little poem, nothing can be good, or nothing can be bad, depending on one’s view of life. You take the high road. Bravo!

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Phil, thank you! I look forward to reading your poem on ‘Nothing’… I hope there’s mention of a roadrunner in it somewhere… roadrunners have gone from nothing to everything via your ekphrastic challenge!

      Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      I’m all for creativity jd – and I’m thrilled with the wonders on this page!

      Reply
  5. Paul Martin Freeman

    Now, nothing governs her, she claims,
    And that’s the point she makes.
    But I would claim the truth she maims
    And that the point she fakes.

    For none exists where this is so,
    As sadly all recall.
    And thus in what she says we know
    There’s nothing there at all.

    Reply
  6. Paul A. Freeman

    “I ‘aven’t done nuffin’,” ‘e said.
    “And nuffin’s like when you are dead.
    So meantime I’ll mull,
    on what’s in me skull –
    Alas, just a vacuous ‘ead.”

    I’m a five-minute philosopher.

    Reply
      • Paul Martin Freeman

        By the way, I really liked your Chaucer poem. You must have spent the same amount of time on that.

      • Paul Martin Freeman

        Forgive me. It’s 4 in the morning here and I’m talking to myself.

      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        Paul and Paul – your poems and your comments have given me a grin and I thank the both of for up and joining in!

      • Paul Freeman

        All’s good. I’ve been out of wifi range for a couple of days. Which gave me time to write another ‘nothing’ poem.

  7. Gigi Ryan

    Mr. Roosevelt once said,
    It’s the worst to do,
    If decisions must be made
    And choice is facing you.

    Oddly, this is what my child
    Does every day at school.
    I ask, “What did you do today?”
    Every afternoon!

    And then when it is Saturday
    He has the nerve to want
    To spend the day pursuing this
    In his favorite haunt!

    Of course, the worst for me to do
    About it is to worry,
    Lest I accomplish what he does,
    With wasted mental scurry.

    Shakespeare said it long ago,
    It’s always proven true-
    About this useless exercise
    There is much ado.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Gigi, thank you for joining in the ‘Nothing’ fun with your own unique take – I’m with Cynthia on those last two lines!

      Reply
  8. Mia

    Long ago, there lived a respected judge,
    A man extremely moral, wise and just,
    Who wishing to avoid all disputes
    Had the commandments and the oath
    Engraved in bold upon his desk of solid oak.
    Now for every case, all knew he did his best
    Impartially passing every gruelling test
    And when met with mad, vociferous ravings,
    Would often point to the indelible engraving,
    And patiently reply, ‘Look, here it is ,
    Carved on this desk for every man to see.’

    Presently it came to pass that a certain man,
    Who had amassed immense gold and land
    Appeared on trial before this famous judge,
    (The evidence of the man’s crimes filling reports)
    Meanwhile the fair judge had the same response,
    ‘Look here are the rules for every man to gaze upon.’
    Still the accused remained unfazed and thereupon
    Deftly unzipped a suitcase full of cash
    And with panache piled banknotes like a rash
    Upon the desk and asked, whilst laughing,
    ‘Read the rules now, because I see nothing!’

    Reply
    • Mia

      Dear Susan, thank you for this challenge.
      Nothing compares to a good SCP challenge.

      However I have to confess that nothing is as bad as reading
      through one’s submission only to find
      it reads more and more like prose with each passing day.
      Well, almost nothing, as there have been worse in my case.

      Perhaps the following is a little better. Nothing that time won’t uncover.

      Nothing is as annoying as having nothing to wear
      when it isn’t as if the closet is bare.
      The clothes spill out of shelves and of drawers
      But goodness me they’ve all gone and shrunk in the wash.

      Reply
      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        Mia, it’s always lovely to hear from you and I am thrilled that you have risen to this challenge. You never fail to make me smile!

  9. Stephen Dickey

    Maybe here’s something:

    As long as there’s an everloving mind,
    There’s going to be some little something in it—
    Even if we forget it for a minute,
    Even though we may leave it far behind.

    Though trapped among the objects of our fussing,
    What an adventure it would be to stare
    Straight into the abyss we think is there,—
    Homing in on a feedback loop of nothing.

    Reply
    • Mia

      I think this poem is definitely on a feedback loop of something
      as I have read it several times. There is definitely a little something in it that is interesting, intriguing and enjoyable .

      Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Stephen, what an awful lot to think about here… an amazing result when the challenge is on the subject of ‘Nothing’ – thank you for rising to it with a great take.

      Reply
  10. Robert Zimmerman

    Contemplating Nothing

    A vacuum wanders down the stairs.
    I told some folk, but no one cares.
    It creeps alone with mindless glee,
    yet no one seems aware but me.

    It staggers by without a thought.
    I contemplate it’s being—-not!
    It vanished and left ne’er clue.
    Just doing not naught, as vacuums do.

    Reflecting back up on the scene,
    my eyes were sharp—-my mind so keen.
    I sensed my heart had not a care,
    and soon surmised—-“There’s nothing there.”

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Robert, thank you for this thoughtful and creative look at Nothing through a poet’s eyes. I especially like the closing couplet.

      Reply
  11. Shamik Banerjee

    Dear Susan, thank you so much for this contemplative topic and your lovely take on it. Here is my sonnet on ‘Nothing’:

    Shunya

    When I breed roses, I’m a rosery,
    And when I nurse my child, I am a mother;
    When I take vows, I am a votary,
    And when my friend lacks ruth, I am his brother.
    Please keep the tweed and take away its wool,
    Please keep the pot and take away its clay,
    Or take away the fish but keep their school,
    Or take away the Sun but keep the day—
    You can’t, for every ‘thing’ man knows on earth,
    Is made of some description and a task
    Which loses its true nature to give birth
    To names and forms and wears the Selfhood’s Mask
    Which, when removed, will make the ‘I Am’ fall,
    And one will know he’s truly ‘nought’ at all.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Shamik, thank you for this mysterious and thought-provoking take on my challenge… I like it… a lot!

      Reply
      • Shamik Banerjee

        Dear Susan, I am very pleased to know you liked my poem. The poem is based on the oriental philosophy of ‘Shunyata’ or ‘Nothingness’, which states that everything we know is a combination of a name, a form, and a description. In an earthen pot, for example, the actual reality is the clay. This very clay can be transformed into a doll and assigned a new name. Though forms and names are unfixed, the clay (the truth), in this case, is fixed. Similarly, a lady can be a mother, a wife, or a sister, but in every character she plays, the description of her role changes, as does her title. But she, as a person, remains the same. Similarly, for ‘a school of fish’, the title’school’ has no independent existence, and the fish are the reality. In spiritual terms, one enters ‘nothingness’ when he or she drops these three factors. When we let go of these, we stop identifying ourselves with things that are unfixed, such as names, roles, forms, etc., and have the realisation of being ‘nothing’. This state is also sometimes called enlightenment or nirvana.

        I really enjoyed writing on your prompt and your take on it is very beautiful. Thank you.

      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        Shamik, how utterly intriguing. Thank you very much for this information… it certainly adds to the challenge and will hopefully inspire others to join in with your words in mind. Wonderful!

  12. C.B. Anderson

    I only wandered in the flubbus
    As long as heaven was above us,
    But now I am enterogasted
    By just how long the torture lasted.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      C.B., in four intriguing lines you have managed to gift me two new words. Where you are concerned, nothing really is everything! Thank you!

      Reply
  13. Cheryl Corey

    The page is sparkling white
    I don’t know what to write
    Nothing, nada, nil
    Is flowing from my quill.

    Reply
  14. Roy Eugene Peterson

    NOTHING LEFT
    By Roy E. Peterson (September 25, 2023)

    The day had come to take
    ___my test in Bible History.
    But there was nothing on my mind
    ___except my poetry.
    When I read the first question
    ___there was nothing on my mind.
    “When Sodom and Gomorrah fell,
    ___what was there left to find?”
    I remembered Lot and family
    ___had to flee away.
    I wrote only one word, “Nothing”
    ___was left upon that day.
    When I received my test grade,
    ___The teacher wrote, “That’s right!
    Nothing is the perfect answer,
    ___When Lot ran out of sight.”

    Reply
  15. Roy Eugene Peterson

    NOTHING IS WHAT YOU GET
    By Roy E. Peterson (September 25, 2023)

    Some say men are clueless.
    Some say they are blind.
    So, never ask a woman
    What she has on her mind.
    He might get an answer
    That he will regret.
    If she answers, “Nothing!”
    That is all you get.

    Reply
  16. Roy Eugene Peterson

    By Roy E. Peterson (September 25, 2023)

    Doing nothing is hard.
    ___You never know when you are done.
    Your brain’s stuck in neutral
    ___and you’re not having any fun.
    Nothing’s impossible,
    ___but I do it every day.
    Doing nothing is proactive,
    ___your cares may go away.
    “Nothing now bothers me,”
    ___the mother of three children swore.
    “I have had three children
    ___nothing scares me anymore.

    Reply
  17. Roy Eugene Peterson

    NOTHING POETRY CHALLENGE
    By Roy E. Peterson (September 25, 2023)

    Susan challenged us to write
    ___a poem about nothing.
    That is when I read her poem.
    ___It was really something.
    Nothing could look so easy,
    ___but, yet, it was so hard.
    How could I write of nothing,
    ___while garnering regard?
    Susan’s words were positive,
    ___since nothing her could stop.
    It seems nothing could stop Susan,
    ___but a traffic cop.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Roy, you never fail to surprise me with your passion, speed, and poetic verve… I am thrilled you’ve found this challenge worthy to rise to… three times, no less. Thank you!

      Reply
  18. James A. Tweedie

    Here’s one:

    Ex Nihilo
    A person can have “something”, that’s a fact.
    But no one can have “nothing,’ as it were.
    To speak of “nothing” speaks of what is lacked.,
    But people do it often, that’s for sure.
    For, “nothing” is an oft neglected word
    That can mean “zero,” “nil,” or “empty void.”
    (The latter phrase redundant, quite absurd
    To use it makes grammarians annoyed.)
    And yet, “sweet nothings” whispered in one’s ear
    Can represent romance that leads to bliss.
    For in this case such “nothings” can endear,
    And lead, perhaps, to an impassioned kiss.
    The Bible says of nothing all was made
    And nothing is impossible with God.
    And nothing, without love, is what we’re paid.
    To get something for nothing would seem odd.
    If something without nothing isn’t real.
    It seems that nothing matters a great deal.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      James, this is a tour de force of nothing – it’s full to the brim with nothing and I love it! Thank you!

      Reply
  19. James A. Tweedie

    Ane one more:

    Seinfeld was a TV show
    About nothing.
    Yet we watched it anyway.
    Yadda yadda.
    Reruns are still aired today.
    Who is watching?
    I don’t care, or care to know.

    Reply
  20. Roy Eugene Peterson

    NOTHING EVER HAPPENS
    By Roy E. Peterson (September 25, 2023)

    Nothing stands for zero,
    ___a circle that’s an aught.
    Nothing is not something
    ___for that is not a naught.
    Nothing is a goose egg,
    ___if you are keeping score.
    Zip, zilch, nix, nil, nada,
    ___will not add anymore.
    What happens in Las Vegas
    ___they say will stay there.
    So, nothing ever happens.
    ___I think that is fair.

    Reply
  21. Norma Elizabeth Okun

    Nothing Will Break Our Love
    Nothing to do about you and me.
    How we mean everything to each other
    How we meant what we pledged to each other
    On our wedding day
    May 18, 1986
    To have nothing ever interfere with our love.
    Nothing can be welcomed that can break our love apart.
    Nothing is more important
    Then the love we have for each other
    Nothing will I ever believe but the
    Best you can deliver to me.
    Let nothing separate us,
    Let everything you meet and love beside me.
    Add to our loving each other.
    Nothing can take the place you have in my heart.
    Nothing will I ever allow to stop me from loving you.
    You mean everything to me.

    Reply
  22. Roy Eugene Peterson

    NOTHING IS MUCH BETTER
    By Roy E. Peterson (September 25, 2023)

    Our Congress has become
    ___a corrupt institution.
    They need to pay attention
    ___To our Constitution.
    Sometimes I think that Congress
    ___should stop making new law.
    Nothing is much worse than
    ___the recent ones I saw.

    When Truman ran for President
    ___in nineteen forty-eight,
    He blamed the “Do nothing Congress,”
    ___for his “Fair Deal” fate.
    The liberal policies
    ___were stuck in their committees,
    Especially the ones that were earmarked
    ___for the cities.

    Remember that Mark Twain said
    ___(To paraphrase his lesson),
    “We are in greater danger
    ___when Congress is session.”
    In his quote he mentioned
    ___plus “our lives and our liberty,”
    And then he made sure to include
    ___everyone’s property.

    So nothing is much better
    ___as far as I am concerned.
    So many of their recent laws
    ___are ones that should be burned.
    Congress has done nothing
    ___to stop alien invasion.
    That is an issue they must take
    ___into their equation.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      There’s much to mull over here, Roy. Thank you! I think if the Government did nothing in the literal sense of the word, we would all be better off.

      Reply
  23. Julian D. Woodruff

    Susan, a great idea! You remind me of so many writings etc.–Dinesen’s “The Blank Page,” WP DuBois’s children’s story, “Lion,” Monty Python’s “Eric the Half a Bee” skit & more. You and our delightful poem have elicited a pile of poems treating nothing whimsically and substantially at the same time.
    I confess I took a figurative approach rather than a philosophical one. And it definitely has nothing to do with fun. I feel something like the bad fairy in “Sleeping Beauty.”
    Nothing: Good Gone

    Costly textbooks for most college courses.
    Pious sermons from dubious sources.
    Loathsome companies’ foul machinations.
    Politicians long, odious orations.
    Those who’d youngsters’ unknowingness rob
    through gross movements of some Beelzebob.
    Above: works of most everyone’s heroes?
    No, of bullpooping, bothersome zeroes.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Julian, thank you for your wonderful introduction. It afforded me a great trip down memory lane and led me to Dinesen’s “The Blank Page,” which I had never read… it’s wonderful and has spurred me on to continue with my latest project in front of a blank page. Thank you too for your figurative approach to my challenge. I love its message and its creativity… I especially like ‘Beelzebob’ and ‘bullpoop’… words that demand pride of place in the dictionary. Julian, thank you!

      Reply
  24. Mike Bryant

    Susan, what a glorious idea! As ususal, I am veering into the incomprehensible with this attempt at something different:

    Out of nought, one hand made everything.
    The micro that was made is full of life,
    The macro full of galaxies that sing
    And you and I between in joy and strife.

    Is nothing smaller than the smallest small?
    Is nothing larger than the endless all?

    Or could there be a deeper nothingEST,
    From which a second nothing once arose,
    Created by Almighty SomethingEST?
    I think that only God, our Father, knows.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Mike, I love this… veering into the incomprehensible is something you should do more often! 😉 Thank you for rising to my many challenges.

      Reply
  25. Mary Gardner

    What Nature abhors is a Vacuum,
    Not a Thing, but a veritable Lackuum.
    It will rush in to fill
    Any Space that is Nil,
    And attackuum with lots of Flackuum.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Mary, I love this smile of a creative poem – your admirable nod to nothing is a poetic triumph and I thank you for rising to the challenge with nothing in mind.

      Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Thank you very much for your contribution, G.M.H. Thompson. See my comment on the content of your poem below:

      😉

      Reply
      • G. M. H. Thompson

        I didn’t mean to put the one without the “.”– for some reason, it automatically posted it twice when I posted it once, but then through it telling me that it posted it twice & had automatically deleted the second posting, I thought I had to post it again, but I had to change something about it, which I didn’t really want to do. So, the one without the period should be removed, is what I’m trying to get to.

    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Perhaps moderator Mike will sort it out… although, the Desert devoid of the embellishment of punctuation is my favorite of the two versions… where ‘Nothing’ is concerned less is always more. Thank you for your smile of a contribution.

      Reply
      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        … actually, your response to the challenge is more than a smile. My brain is now travelling down untrodden avenues to realms of the unfathomable.

      • G. M. H. Thompson

        Well, the main advantage of the one with the period is that it makes it clear that “Desert” is the title of the poem. It has a second advantage in giving the poem a sort of shape to it, while remaining very unobtrusive at the same time, like the picture of a desert. Also, a period suggests a grain of sand, so that’s another thing that’s nice (more than one period doesn’t look good, if anyone was wondering “Why not more than one period if it looks like a grain of sand & deserts have billions of grains of sand?”). A final note I might add about the period is that it suggests a black hole, which is perhaps the most nothing you can get, but also according to some theories the source of the big bang, which is an interesting paradoxical twist to think about on the subject.

  29. Paul A. Freeman

    Nothing is the gentleness of snow,
    of silent flakes descending from the sky.

    Nothing is a forest-shrouded doe,
    its camouflage deceiving to the eye.

    Nothing is the bland, unseasoned fare
    that leaves your un-assaulted tastebuds dull.

    Nothing is the arid, desert air,
    without a briny tang on which to mull.

    Nothing is the polished table top
    your palm explores that yields no contoured face.

    Nothing is your journey’s mortal stop,
    that terminates a spell of earthly grace.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Paul, this is truly beautiful… I thank you for rising to the challenge so admirably.

      Reply
      • Paul A. Freeman

        Thanks for your comment, Susan. It took a while to get there, and several rewrites.

  30. Debra Mascarenhas

    Nothing poem

    I took out my book
    and sat near a brook
    With a pen in my hand
    it took
    5 minutes to think
    What I wanted to write
    Suddenly
    I saw my words run down the brook
    Oh the look the words gave me
    They laughed and giggled
    As they rolled down the brook
    I ran behind them and
    it took
    An hour to find all the words together
    Stuck in a jar at the end of the brook
    I put in my hand and pulled out a few words
    But they made no sense
    So I threw them back into the jar and into the flowing brook
    I ran back home
    Turned on my computer
    And the thought to write what thoughts had come to my mind
    But the thoughts were nothing
    But of the words that
    I threw back into the brook

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Thank you for this, Debra. You describe a dilemma I am all too familiar with as a poet… I am imagining those words as slippery eels escaping your grip and stoking despair.

      Reply
  31. Patrick Murtha

    Sad sighing haunted rooms
    And corridors long untouched
    By laughter, light, or brooms.
    I roamed the home. I clutched
    A hope to see the source
    Of so forlorn a sound.
    Some soul’s too late remorse?
    A shade whose body’d drowned?
    Each creaking step I stepped,
    In hall or down a stair;
    In every hall I crept—
    Nothing but me was there.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Atmospheric, melancholic, and thoroughly engaging! Thank you for rising to the ‘Nothing’ challenge with a fine poem, Patrick.

      Reply
  32. Monika Cooper

    Ascent in Fall

    For getting up the mount
    You take the open road.
    Turnoffs bend to waylay.
    Pass them by! Pass them by!

    Chasing wealth in leaf fall,
    I wandered far and wide.
    Tempting autumn fool’s gold
    Surrounds you. Let it lie!

    Forest veils hang tattered,
    The whisper of each tear
    One attachment breaking,
    One more wingbeat southing.

    Gong sounds, cymbal tinkles,
    Raise voices of despair.
    To know – and not to love!– is
    Nothing, nothing, nothing.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Monika, this is a melodious marvel of a poem that rises to the challenge admirably. I love the pictures you paint especially in stanza 3… and I adore the closing couplet. Thank you for joining in!

      Reply
      • Monika Cooper

        Thank you, Susan. The poem owes something to one of the Hobbit walking songs. The third stanza is my favorite too; I was afraid it laid me open to the charge of gratuitous mysteriousness but you get it! I’m glad and thank you also for another irresistible challenge.

  33. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Ho-Hum

    He sinks in shifting sand –
    The man with fluid views.

    No leg on which to stand –
    She bows to mainstream schmooze.

    They’ve fallen for the brand
    Of nothing-left-to-choose.

    They dare not think
    They dare not say
    So, nothing bad
    will mar their day…

    And nothing good will sail their way.

    Reply
  34. Peter Duff

    Much Ado

    Art is anything you can get away with – Andy Warhol

    An empty frame the artist called “Invisible”
    The people queue, then stand and stare and smile
    And most can see (belatedly) it’s risible
    But still they look, and ponder for a while
    And hesitate to give an honest view
    Concerned the lacking is perhaps their own:
    “It’s witty and provocative and new
    She makes you think about what isn’t shown”
    They do not see till told where they should look
    Nor recognize until they’re told what’s seen:
    “It’s in the Tate, and therefore must be good
    I’ll check the Web and find out what it means”
    But nothing comes to nothing just the same
    When labelled and surrounded by a frame

    Reply
  35. Joshua C. Frank

    No One Likes It

    “No one likes your poem, it stinks!”
    They said. “Don’t open-mic it!”
    So I asked No One what he thinks;
    He read and said, “I like it.”

    Reply
  36. Bruce J PEARL

    LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS

    As Morpheus had said to a sleeping Neo,
    “No one can tell you what the Matrix is,
    You have to see it for yourself,” I switched
    To the red pill my freshman year at Buffalo
    And joined the midnight museum goers,
    Lined up outside the then locked A&P,
    To stare at the soup cans and soda bottles,
    The enwrapped 20th century models
    Some unsuspecting Van Gogh or Vermeer
    Had placed on crowded shelves to be revered –
    The same as Warhol would later immortalize
    To the chagrin of a bemused world.

    Reply
  37. lilli

    To write a poem about nothing itself is something
    to have a prompt written as to say capture the essence of nothing is still capturing the essence of something even nothing has a presence
    to sit here and watch time spin
    to sit here and write something about the essence of nothing just to what to win
    there is a certain beauty that comes with writing about nothing
    there is a certain beauty that comes with writing about something so who are you to decide that regardless of the way that the tide moves
    you choose the inspiration you choose the muse
    nothing is something and something is nothing
    To capture the beauty of anything regardless of if that is nothing is still something

    Reply
  38. Clara Green

    Nothing Poem

    I met shadowed brightness, frail and strong,
    Ugly as thorn bush, lovely as song,
    Cruel as the Winter’s wind, sweet as the Spring’s,
    Solid and liquid and air and all things,
    Burning and living, and dying and cold,
    Both loud and silent, both young and old,
    Life-giving, breath-taking, in all its effects,
    Elab’rately simple, Simply Complex.
    A Dream and a Nightmare, a Hope and a Fear,
    Immeasurably distant, unbearably near
    I did not understand it. I still do not, now.
    I knew what it was, yet I do not know how
    To explain or describe or portray it to you.
    You can question me, pry me, but nothing will do.
    Encourage me, force me, do all that you may,
    I can’t tell of the things of which words cannot say.

    -Clara, written at age 14

    Reply

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