Nothing Poem by Jerry Pike

Nothing

Out of the airways came nothing,
floating, as spring tumbled loam,
bounding and grinning and gloating,
nothing was making it’s home.
Sure the Forsythia greeted,
stabbing with yolk coloured joy,
bright’ning where green had arisen,
stamping as summer’s decoy.

Nothing took hold with a vengeance,
yesterday wrote in my book,
grey, in a pencil sharp dullness,
plaiting my thoughts with its hook.
Crocheting numbness to nothing,
cooling the world in its grip,
nothing ruled, ever and after,
happily nothing would slip.

Piled to the eyes with no meaning,
nothing looked senseless and strong,
every kind word edged in sunshine,
dented the clouds of my wrong.
Maybe this nothing leads somewhere,
back alley sentences tell,
down by the river of knowledge,
under a walkway to hell.

Nowhere for nothing with no-one,
never did others much harm,
sweet crystal dreams of perhaps-ness,
woven in blankets of calm.
Up to the bright of my learning,
gaze into space, with a will,
make believe heaven is waiting,
lie for a smile and a thrill.

Jerry Pike