.
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.
.
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.
.
.
Post your poem on “Nothing” in the comments section below.
.
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.
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!
If the first line sounds familiar, Christopher Marlowe borrowed it for his, The Passionate Shepherd to his Love.
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?
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!”
Fred, how utterly thought provoking and creative… philosophical food for thought that is an asset to this page. Thank you!
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!
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!
I think all three poems so far are very creative.
I’m all for creativity jd – and I’m thrilled with the wonders on this page!
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.
“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.
That many?
Are you takin’ the Bruce Lee, guvnor?
Only kidding. I thought it was six.
By the way, I really liked your Chaucer poem. You must have spent the same amount of time on that.
Which is longer than it took Tom.
Though that depends how fast you read.
Forgive me. It’s 4 in the morning here and I’m talking to myself.
Paul and Paul – your poems and your comments have given me a grin and I thank the both of for up and joining in!
All’s good. I’ve been out of wifi range for a couple of days. Which gave me time to write another ‘nothing’ poem.
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.
These last two lines are brilliant!
Gigi, thank you for joining in the ‘Nothing’ fun with your own unique take – I’m with Cynthia on those last two lines!
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!’
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.
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!
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.
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 .
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.
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.”
Robert, thank you for this thoughtful and creative look at Nothing through a poet’s eyes. I especially like the closing couplet.
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.
Shamik, thank you for this mysterious and thought-provoking take on my challenge… I like it… a lot!
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.
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!
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.
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!
The page is sparkling white
I don’t know what to write
Nothing, nada, nil
Is flowing from my quill.
Cheryl, I beg to differ… and thank you for the smile of a result!
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.”
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
James, this is a tour de force of nothing – it’s full to the brim with nothing and I love it! Thank you!
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.
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.
Great take, Roy!
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.
Heartfelt words of love, Norma, that serve to prove nothing really is everything.
Thank you for your kind words.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
Mike, I love this… veering into the incomprehensible is something you should do more often!
Thank you for rising to my many challenges.
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.
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.
Desert
.
Thank you very much for your contribution, G.M.H. Thompson. See my comment on the content of your poem below:
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.
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.
… actually, your response to the challenge is more than a smile. My brain is now travelling down untrodden avenues to realms of the unfathomable.
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.
“Desert.”
Now for a haiku
that will leave nothing to the
imagination…
Clever, BenB!
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.
Paul, this is truly beautiful… I thank you for rising to the challenge so admirably.
Thanks for your comment, Susan. It took a while to get there, and several rewrites.
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
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.
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.
Atmospheric, melancholic, and thoroughly engaging! Thank you for rising to the ‘Nothing’ challenge with a fine poem, Patrick.
Thank you. A friend just introduced me to this Society. I am intrigued and interested.
Welcome, Patrick.
Thank you.
Yes, a warm welcome indeed, Patrick.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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
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.”
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.
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
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