Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Zywa Sep 8
An egg in the tree

axil, a feather comes out --


then: a singing bird.
Poem "Fürchte dich nicht" ("Don't be afraid", 1951-1953, Hilde Domin)

Collection "Germ Substance"
lua Mar 7
the shell chipped
and fell into the bowl
two yolks swirling around
one whole and deep orange
the other paling in comparison
fragile membrane pricked by ivory
bleeding into the white

i cursed
could have been
more careful.
a celestial body
lesser of age but
brighter in composition
was found to be
unexpectedly disarming
in its distorted form
unable to maintain
its expected shape
it was drawn in by
the voracious needs
of the other's gravity
a starry beckoning
that caused these
entities to draw forth
towards one another
this sharing of energies
a merger however
seemingly not unlike
those observed before

and yet something
about this pairing
steals the attention
of the experts and
the admirers alike
this rotation of one
about the other
guarding devotedly
from perils unseen
in the midst of
this stellar pirouette
there continues a chaos
pulling from all directions
both together and apart
defiant and undeniable
fluctuating with unknowns
eventually to become
brandychanning Dec 2023
so now, do I, I do,

he favors the the top of my breast ,
where the spaghetti strap leads
his eye lower, to the fulsome swelling,
curves he favors in a linear
world

these magnets of human flesh are
attributes of me, unsolicited, part
of my “collegial endowment” and
yet,
no denial,
this egg of my accent,
a fullness employable, knows well,
full employment

ah, mon oeuf d'accent,
the accent of my accidental,

for lives are just linear lines
warped occasionally, nicely.
swelling in wonderful frailty,
the curvature of the human
eyes, that draw curves of
human spirit,

thar are drawn by sprites
with wickedly humorous
insight
Zywa Oct 2023
I slept like a bean

in the pod of my car, in --


my cradle, my egg.
Poem "The Egg" (1967, Louise Glück)

Collection "Stream"
I S A A C Jul 2023
Upon the announcement of my arrival
my ancestors weaved brillant threads to make a quilt for my bed
with steadfast hands, they weaved themselves a plan
who i was to become, what kind of man
upon the days of my arrival
my ancestors fantastically wrapped me up in the quilt of blue and red
this quilt housed me for many seasons
itched me, pinched me, left me cold at night
bit me, tripped me, straggling my rights
the brillant quilt made to protect became my golden cage instead
their plan created my strife
their plan corseted my life
after years spent suffocating in the threads
i decided to break away from the plan
emerging like a little chick out of an egg
i chose to live my life today
still the foundation laid was unscathed
every trigger sent my heart into disarray
independence fortified, return to the egg
the quilt might be itchy, it might be tight
but it is easier than learning how to fly
Heidi Franke Apr 2023
Held like this
A cupped hand of water
held still
that not a drop
enters gravity's pull.

Held like this
The hens egg.
Rounded palms together
without allowance of pressure
that would crush the shell.
Frail possessions.

These are days she remembers beyond all vicissitudes she faced.
Not jagged. Not stewing or careless.

This untainted moment
of protection
for something that will give back.

A drop of water
becomes a cup that was
dry as a bone.
The egg becomes
a breakfast feast
weary of starvation.

Hold life like this. Prudent,
tender and earnest.
These times she keeps
for consideration.
Steve Page Nov 2022
Too tired to give
an egg a clean break,
he crunched
into his omelette,
ready for bed
long day today
Nigdaw Jan 2022
a hard man doesn't need to shout
threaten or front it out
a hard man can crack an egg
without breaking the yolk
Tony Tweedy Apr 2021
In a foreign land,
over two thousand years ago,
there lived a man,
whom the world would come to know.

Raised out of Nazareth,
his humble place of birth,
tasked with spreading words of love,
and of peace throughout the Earth.

Many were his deeds,
and so timeless and true his word,
that he changed the shape of the world,
for those who saw and heard.

He challenged the authority,
of those who then held sway,
by telling common people that through his Father,
there lay a better way.

Challenged by his word,
and fearing influence on the wane,
by deceit and lie,
they sought to take control back again.

Despite his deeds and truth,
evident in what he taught,
by deception, lies and betrayal,
he was rounded up and caught.

In a trial that found no arguement,
to undermine what he had said,
he was sentenced to crucifixion,
nailed on a cross until he was dead.

I am sure you know the rest,
of how on the third day he did rise,
and you have seen our world still battling,
against the hate and all the lies.

On this very weekend, remember,
this man from long ago I beg,
for there is much more to this remembrance,
than the chocolate in your egg.
Enjoy you Easter everyone.
Next page