A 4-post collection

Challenge #02863-G306: Nothing That's Worth a Lot

A human had a poetry book that they took everywhere with them and enjoyed sitting and reading when they had time. Admittedly, time could be few and far between with their job. One poem she recited softly to herself from time to time had her liaison curious and he asked what it was she was muttering to herself. Her reply confused him because she stated it was a poem about nothing. But how could it be about nothing? All such works are about something... right?

A Poem About Nothing

This is a poem about nothing.

No flowing words about gardens or trees.

No tales of the birds and the bees,

Because, this is a poem of nothing.


This is a poem about nothing.

No winking stars in the evening skies.

No mysteries or lovely eyes,

No, this is truly about nothing.


This is a poem about something.

Of this, I truly now know.

It’s so very odd how things can go.

Because, this poem is something about nothing. -- DaniAndShali

Companion Graith had to know what was in the book. It was Human Trent's primary comfort article. They used it, in Trent's own words, "to degauss". The pages of yellowing paper were treated with careful reverence and the whole thing had been rebound four times before Graith had met Trent, which meant that it was something that had been read and read again until the very substance of its makeup had to be replaced. This was something very important in their Human's life.

Of course, the fact that Human Trent didn't let it out of their personal aura was also a chief indicator. Of course, the trouble with taking a look was... Human Trent didn't let it out of their personal aura. There was, fortunately, one never-fail method that guaranteed the best chance of taking a peek. "Human Trent, may I also read your book of poetry?"

Human Trent smiled and brought the book out of their special protective locker pocket in their livesuit. "You'll think it's silly," they warned. "But every single one of these poems helps me feel better after a bad day."

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Challenge #02721-G164: Hail Poetry!

The sign said "Old Terran style poetry for sale! Custom sonnets, written for you about what you love, in GalStand! Please fill out form and provide one Hour; finished poem will be sent to you within the next ten days. 50% discount for JOATs." The human seated at the table the sign hung from had a large stack of blank forms, a couple of completed forms, several one Hour notes, a notebook, and what looked like several kinds of dictionary. They were

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When we can look at another and not see their skin
Or their gender
Or their tattoos
Or their piercings
Or their hairstyle
Or their personal preferences
Or their politics
Or their social status

When we can talk to another and not argue
But accept
That everyone has a point of view

When we can see a task that needs to be done
And roll up our sleeves
And pitch in
Regardless of our own status
And get something done

When we

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