Tag Archives: Nothing

A poem about Nothing

There was nothing to write about on the road today
No sunsets, rainstorms
No vignettes at the roadside
No insights gleaned, no strange beauty spotted
No stories to tell
Just a two and a half hour drive to Leicester
And a two and a half hour drive back
With no incident

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

A song about nothing

Here’s a song about absolutely nothing:
It’s not about me,
Not about anyone else;
Not about love.
Not about being young,
Not about anything else either.

It came to me while I was asleep,
Riding along on my horse.
I don’t know exactly when I was born.
I’m not happy,
I’m not angry.
I’m not a stranger here…
I don’t belong here.

I can’t help being like this,
I was made like it by a fairy upon a mountaintop.
I don’t know if I’m asleep or awake
Unless someone tells me.
My heart’s almost broken,
It’s so sad…
And all this doesn’t matter a mouse to me.
I swear it, by St. Martial!

I love someone… I don’t know who she is
Because I’ve never seen her;
She hasn’t done anything to please me or to upset me
And I don’t care.
I’ve never seen her, but I love her truly.
She is not yet done what she should to me, or what she shouldn’t.
When I don’t see her, then I’m happy.
She’s not worth a cock to me
Because I know someone who’s gentler and prettier,
And richer as well…

I don’t know where she lives,
Whether up in the heights or down in the fields.
I daren’t tell you the wrongs she does me,
It hurts me too much
And it hurts me to stay here,
So I’m leaving!

I’ve made the poem. I don’t know what’s it about.
I’m going to send it to someone
Who’ll send it with someone else,
To someone over in Anjou:
Perhaps he’ll be able to send me the key from his little box
and unravel this riddle.

Guillaume IX, Duke of Aquitaine and VIIth Count of Poitiers
(22 October 1071 – 11 February 1127)

 

I recently wrote a poem about nothing, then realised what I had, in some form plagarised, although my poem is not as funny as this one.