[Mark McDonnell]

nothings

increasingly, it's nothing
that I want to say

much better than the anythings
one hears all day

or even somethings, dropped
like stones into a bay

you feel their weight, the hollow noise
soon fades away

here's a bird, she won't interpret,
gab or pray

just sing me garden nothings
kerraaw! kerraay!
.
.


penultimate stanza: "grieve" —> "gab"

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Mark—

This reminds me of Cummings’ “anyone lived in a pretty how town.” You might include a disclaimer that no indefinite pronouns were harmed in the production of this poem.

Fun!

Glenn

[Cally Conan-Davies]

Sharky, this is one of the sweetest nothings I've read for ages. The thought it sings is one I am absolutely competely utterly in tune with!

It's so light! In the best and richest sense of that word. It feels weightless, completely empty of effort, as if you just spontaneously thought it, uttered it, then let it escape into the air to dissipate with every 'ay' rhyme.

My favourite line break is the first one, though they're all good!

This is a gem of a short poem. I can't see anything I'd change!

Wonderful.

Cally

[Carl Copeland]

A gem, I agree. The way you express the desire for “nothings” with minimal language is wonderful. I know the feeling. Are the bird sounds your own invention? They sound like Aristophanes to me, but I guess not.

[Joe Crocker]

Frabjous!!!

[R. Nemo Hill]

Tweet.

Nemo

[John Riley]

This has a depth inside the lightness and it’s done with such skill. It’s contemporary and classic. Congratulations, Mark. I’m envious.

[Jim Moonan]

.
You're in the backyard again. (Hammock?). You are blankly looking upward. You are flummoxed by it all. Your mind is doing what it can to negate the desire to make something out of nothing. But the bird reminds you that you have the power to turn nothing into one (to paraphrase L. Cohen).

It a little ditty of a poem that glints and sings.

.

[Yves S L]

Hello Mark,

The turn "here's a bird ..." makes the entire poem for me. Just when the pronoun play was beginning to wind down, the poem turns into a sharply focused four line nature poem. The turn presents enough of a vivid sensory contrasts to the previous relatively abstract verbal play.

I have warmed to the poem. A nice little gem!

But I wonder if you cannot find something a bit stronger for the first couplet, though!

[Mark McDonnell]

Thank you Glenn. I taught that poem to a class of 12 year olds once, who were quite baffled by it until I told them to substitute "anyone" and "no-one" with proper names of their choice. And the penny dropped.

Thanks Cally! You made me wonder about "Sweet Nothings" as a possible title.

They're my own invention, Carl. Hitchcock's Birds are more my wheelhouse than Aristophanes', I'm afraid. Really, I just needed to rhyme with "day/say" etc. Thanks.

Thanks Joe. I hope the Jabberwocky echo isn't too loud. I only noticed it when you pointed it out.

Nemo, that's all it takes. Sweet nothing.

Thanks, John. I'm sure we're many of us envious of each other at times because we all do different things, and so it all evens itself out.

No hammock, Jim. And hopefully I haven't wasted my life (little poetry nerd joke there). Thanks for the kind words.

Thanks Yves. The first couplet was what I woke up with in my head and the poem was written and posted before breakfast (I know I probably shouldn't admit this) so I'm reluctant to let it go. I purposefully want this pared to the bone . That seems appropriate to the sentiment.

Cheers all. Glad this seems to be working!