Emptiest

In my last post, I talked about a poem I was working on that ended up being two poems. One poem was a tanka, a Japanese poetic form; the other is a poem I entitled “Emptiest”, whose form took shape as I wrote it.

First, a couple stanzas naturally ended with “empty breast” and “empty nest.” For whatever reason, I decided to keep that device going. Second, the cadence of this rhyming device caused lines to fall into couplets (two line stanzas), and most of the lines came out as iambic trimeter. With a little fiddling, I conformed all the lines to iambic trimeter, and the poem’s structure was complete.

In my last post, I said I often feel more participant than master when doing creative things. This poem is a great example of that; it seemed like I was discovering the idea, rhythm, and rhyme scheme innate to the poem more than coming up with it.

“Emptiest” will appear in my upcoming book, Above the Rain, which I plan to self-publish in 2027.

Emptiest

Night broods over shadows
that lap its empty breast.

They huddle together,
filling the empty nest

of my yard. Tulips and grass 
sink in the emptiness,

the darkness I breathe,
which fills my empty chest.

I best not entertain
fantasy’s empty guests

or gaze at the stars of 
tomorrow’s empty guess

lest these phantoms make me
dreaming’s empty jest

and I wrestle wraiths 
through hours of empty rest.