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Julie Grenness Feb 2017
I wrote an ode like a song,
About a town called Poowong,
I wrote it in a song,
Then I went to Geelong,
I had egg fong in Poowong,
I knew a sheila in Geelong!
Feedback welcome.
She didn't know why
but within the simple act
of a man taking off his belt
lay all the terrors in the universe

   But one day
this woman
she refused to be afraid for even
one more minute
   She refused to give sway
to fear anymore
   She refused to be a doormat
for one more bad egg
in the locker room
  
   She refused
to be
a fashion
accessory
Being a gay man whom has been victimized and discriminated against, I can totally relate.
cait-cait Sep 2016
Balloon head girl...
With eggs for eyes and
Sharpie lips,,
Don't cry your egg white tears
For me, or let
the yolk leak from holes in
Your diabetic fingers...

Snap your blouse back on, with
The buttons right up
to your neck, a throat with
3 imprints, but
2 hands and  
1 threat
maybe balloon head girl was abused??? maybe she lives a perfect life?? the world may never know!!
SøułSurvivør Aug 2016
~~<♢>~~

moon egg glistening
in nest of cloud
unsuspecting
it's lain in shroud

the egg is symbolic
of the soul
the clouds devour
the moon egg
whole

but this egg
won't be undone
it is lighted by the sun

so the cloud's belly
dark as night
shows an eerie
ethereal
light

the moon egg glows
and softly sings
so the cloud's
edges
wear a ring

moon egg coming
from the girth
gives the
impression

of

REBIRTH!



SoulSurvivor
(C) 8/10/2016
Another poem in my moon series. The half moon really looks like an egg. And it was up in the sky in a cloud that looked like a nest. That very Cloud devoured it. But it poured out such light that the entire edges of the clouds were backlit. Truly a beautiful sight!

Time for me to go to bed now.
I'll read more tomorrow
Colm Jun 2016
Comfy seats, yellow walls, hot coffee and Chai tea.
Tall tumblers filled with ice, and faces warm, quiet and friendly.
A rugged sign hangs just outside, to welcome those who are hungry.
If golden treasure lies inside, this Naked Egg is such a treat.
Now's not the time to question taste, you could pick at random for goodness sake.
There isn't an item on the menu the wouldn't make most clean their plate.
Sidewinder fries await inside, a torte, a Florentine, a bean.
The whole farm perhaps for your appetite, or a western omelet smoked with cheese.
New deli items await your taste, just choose your meat after a certain time.
And if your cup is ever in need, they'll refill your teapot every time.
Don't be a hot mess, just order one, and you'll be happy that you've come.
To be at the Naked Egg you see, is to see how flavorful life can be.
True, true! :D
Which came first?
Kodfather questioned
Feeling
Philosophically intelligent
An egg or a chick?

A circle has
Swamy Downey replied
Nonchalantly
No beginning
Ana S May 2016
No I am not
Bullet proof.
Yes if you shoot.
I will die.
I will probably die if you even just looked at me.
I stop breathing every time you speak.
It's quite odd.
I can't stand to be around you.
Only because I want to be around you.
Something is odd about you.
Non judgmental you.
You somehow know what to say.
You know what I've gone through.
You know what it's like.
To slice up your perfect pale skin.
You know what it's like to want to die.
You know what it's like to be unfixable.
That's the state I'm in.
Broken and unfixable.
Like an egg...
Oh gosh here we go again on eggs emily.
Eggs once they splat are unfixable.
Unfixable
Forever.
That's me.
An egg.
I'm
Nothing
But
An
Egg?
True?
Or false?
Being an egg
Argentum Apr 2016
what's inside?
a fish? a duck? a bird of paradise? candy? lizards?
or something more exotic -
a dragon?
a platypus?
a firebird?
pterodactyl? sea serpent? roc?
maybe a village, or a girl, or a death, or all three?
eggs are wild cards. fate puts a baby [_] inside, and it claws its way out when gets impatient of sitting pretty. we are all basically eggs waiting to assume a shape and shake off a shell of past dreams and childhood nicknames.
yes they're delicate. so they can break apart when needed. so they can enclose themselves gently around a realm of potential, but it is a maze, not a prison. escape is the ultimate end. birth is the ultimate end.
I found a chicken egg at the car rental in Hawaii.
I am soft
With a hard shell
Crack me open
And I will
Ooze out
Raw, white and foamy
Clinging to your fingers
I wrote this while suffering from insomnia. I couldn't stop thinking about this image.
Karen Hamilton Jan 2016
I do love my little egg cup,
His brother much the same,
He holds my egg so perfectly;
Boiled eggs are not a game.

They bounce about for 4 minutes
Before they take their test,
They need a place to hold them straight;
My egg cups are the best.

When the soldiers are awaiting,
Those buttered friends of mine,
I need my little egg cups
To keep them all in line.

They come with little cosy hats
To hide their eggy heads,
I take it off and just like that;
Prepare for eggy bread!




© Karen L Hamilton, 2013
I love boiled eggs all year round but especially on Christmas morning following family tradition, so here's a playful poem showing my love for my little Egg cups!!
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