#NPM2012: Prompt 7

Posted on by Bud Hunt

Empty.

16 thoughts on “#NPM2012: Prompt 7”

  1. Kevin Hodgson says:
    April 7, 2012 at 3:53 am

    Red Crate, Abandoned

    Nothings remains
    empty
    for long …
    not even red crates in deserted alleyways
    on familiar spaces

    The gaps inside
    echo
    with past objects, leaving trails behind –
    memories lost –
    along the byways of the forgetting

    If you should come upon this carriage
    of history
    be gentle with me
    and overflow the space with
    new thoughts

    Together, we’ll fill the emptiness
    with words,
    and fill the alleyways
    with ideas.

    The poem podcast is here: http://cinch.fm/dogtrax/poetry-podcasts/418723
    I also tried something a little different. I turned on a voice recorder and talked as I wrote the poem. I was trying to capture the creative process as the poem unfolded. It’s a bit long for the casual listener but it was valuable for me, the writer.
    http://www.box.com/s/c8da583810c58b36b0bd

    – Kevin

    Reply
    1. Ruth Chandler Ferris/Storykeeper says:
      April 7, 2012 at 7:59 am

      I liked your poem and earlier story.

      Reply
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  3. Stevan says:
    April 7, 2012 at 7:56 am

    Empty?

    Reply
  4. mselke01 says:
    April 7, 2012 at 1:08 pm

    I intended to write a poem about how nothing is truly empty, and ended up with a poem about how everything IS empty. Odd…

    Empty

    The moment between words,
    Between breaths,
    Between heartbeats

    The space between worlds,
    Between stars,
    Between galaxies

    The nothingness between a
    Tightly clustered nucleus
    And the electrons endlessly
    Swirling.

    Solidness
    Matter
    Is only illusion

    http://www.mariaselke.com/2012/04/empty-poem-7.html

    Reply
  5. Danya Y. says:
    April 7, 2012 at 2:21 pm

    I threw the red crate out,
    Wanting to forget memories
    That had passed me.
    These memories were of
    Old things
    That now are dying in my heart.
    I emptied the red crate,
    For I also emptied my heart,
    From everything old and dull.
    Rain dropped over the crate,
    Also rain rained over my heart,
    Over all the old memories.
    The sun did not shine,
    And my heart did not glow.
    The crate lay empty there,
    Unmovable…

    Reply
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  7. Andrew Forgrave says:
    April 8, 2012 at 6:24 am

    Pops and crackles,
    Dust on Vinyl disks,
    Stored upright in their crates.
    In treasured sleeves.

    Now gone.
    Recycled? Or perhaps, rePlayed?

    But in my mind, still fresh.
    Awakened,
    after Google, and a download.
    Now, on .mp3, or .m4a

    The Music Lingers On.

    Reply
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Published by Bud Hunt