The Starless Nothing

This poem is over 7 years old now. It's probably my oldest poem that I still show people.

It’s a nice evening.

With the sun gone

the light pollution casts a dull glow across the atmosphere.

Like it has no business there

but nowhere else to be.

And as for the stars

you won’t see many here.

They’ve all escaped the stratosphere.

From where I am, I can see the whole city

all its splendors softened in my nearsightedness.

I’m sitting in a leather chair older than I am.

My back porch illuminated by my kitchen window.

In front of me glows a plastic pink flamingo.

I listen to the crickets scraping their sleepless sonata.

They sing at night because the birds do all the singing during the day.

On evenings like these

they seem like nightly apparitions;

Ghosts of a harmonic memory

now just remnants of sirens over the barking of dogs.

I lean back and look at the near-dark sky

scarcely littered with random residual star things

casting a lonely radiance through that faded black veil

as if wanting to remain,

but are being pushed away.

The rest must have fallen

because from where I am now,
all the starlight's on the ground.

I close my eyes and think I might like to die this way.

Peaceful, with singing and light all around me.

The big twist ending being

that I was alive the whole time.

We all get like this I suppose.

At least, I hope so.

I want moments like this to be important.

To know that it’s not always nothingness above me

and that there are still stars somewhere.

In my mind, like a slow breeze

She lingers.

Wandering into my thoughts

heavy with sighs

and lasting.

I wonder, as I often do

how I can write her into poetry.

Some words are beyond me

and even at my best

I fall just short of describing what she means to me.

She is an anthology of speechlessness.

I know the words are out there.

I gave her a Christmas card once.

Inside was a note.

A short message, written in prose.

I was taking the chance to prove

that I don’t care about being embarrassed

by the way that I feel about her.

I don’t remember what I wrote.

I know it was really lame.

But it was honest.

Words written by shaking hands.

I suppose it must have been charming somehow.

Looking up at the sky
I think I can see more stars,

but after a moment I see that they are airplanes,

and I smile

like the victim of some sort of celestial prank.

I watch it slow glide in and out of view

through the blurry silhouette of a tree

before closing my eyes and imagining

(Of all things)

        being abducted by aliens.

Being swept away from the earth

looking through a large window

watching our little blue, hazy planet getting smaller

And smaller

And smaller

And like reverb in the back of my mind I hear

“Come Sail Away.

Come Sail Away.”

The last thing I see before venturing off into the starless nothing,

like a slow breeze,

is her face.

Just as silent, as the surviving constellations

but clear as crystal-

sharp as shrapnel.

I open my eyes, back on my porch again.

In a black leather chair, older than I am.

Heavy with sighs.

I try again to find words

but they're not here.

They're not even this.

But, it’s a comfortable evening

nonetheless.

Author's Note

I was pensive, and love struck. I was daydreaming without my glasses on. It has gone through many revisions over the years, but this revision would be the first one I consider a "Version 2". Don't mind the length.

Reviews

[Amelie]

What I love about your style is that, there is a celestial profoundness (which indicates your mastery of the language) in every stanza; In film, we call it "set pieces", these are well- directed, elaborate scenes that has a lot of pizzazz in it, making it appear almost independent from the rest of the scenes (there's no better way I can think of on how to describe it, than a gorgeous set piece). Your tone has a signature whip- smart spontaneity in it, without trying to sound smart-a*s (natural, seemingly first- thought, sporadic with class), that makes you smile to the little thought of it.I must say, you're definitely one of the most commendable poets around here. You are a master of free verse my friend. As to the piece, well what more can I say... I was swooned again by your utter brilliance.

[Hawkmoon]

elegant clarity, effervescent tone & very humorous in a levitating boomerang kind of way... Nice point about the Crickets and the Birds, a profound discernment that has great poetic depth, in it's regard for balances and boundaries, etc. Great writing & persevere! :

[Mia]

You have a charming way of writing, it's wonderful to read. I have no doubt I'm going to enjoy your stuff. I think if you used more metaphors and analogies when you described things it would make your poetry magical. I get a sense from what I've read so far (all two poems...so I could be wrong) that you have a crazy, vivid imagination and I think it would be great if you unleashed it :) Only sometimes though...like I said you have a charming style and I don't want you to lose that charm :D
I thought about it while reading this, so thought I’d share…feel free to do with what you will…it’s only a suggestion :)

[Kenaz]

Incredible? Yeah, I think that's the word.

[White Ink]

loved the descriptions and all details.. i could almost see the view you're describing.. i felt like i'm watching a scene from a movie and that i'm living in the moment.. very well written! absolutely wonderful!

[Ink Angel]

Imagery is lush, I love the last three verses, and the second verse, the chair, the glowing pink flamingo, I could be sat there almost, Its such a peaceful poem, yet, busy at the same time. Thank you.

[Donald Cole]

don't mind the length. the first thought i thought of was the length. i like the vividness in the descriptions. too long for my mind to focus though you use your words very well. thanks

[Pritesh]

It won't be ever easy to envisage the sort from a mere leather chair.You stuck the every nerve of sensation taking through universal journey and the fragile hearty emotions.Abduction by aliens did work good.Though its the oldest but the boldest. keep writing.:-)

[Laura Maidah]

It is rather long. Pacing is slow, with not much happening but introspection. It's pretty and all, but poetically, it's just another pretty face. Nothing memorable IMHO.

[Southern Cross]

I read, listened and felt every single word on this page. I was there with you , gazing at the sky and lost in my own thoughts along with yours. Peace, tranquility and love all submerged into one. You have such talent that leads to inspiration. Your words flow on a page like thoughts cast to the wind and I am in awe of the breeze.

[Coyote Poetry]

"The last thing I see before venturing off into the starless nothing,
like a slow breeze,
is her face."
I enjoyed the poem. The description allow me to feel the desire of the writer. I like the flow of thoughts and the strong ending. Thank you for the outstanding poem.
Coyote