I am soft
With a hard shell
Crack me open
And I will
Ooze out
Raw, white and foamy
Clinging to your fingers

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

Awesomeness is the
Wonder of life, like an
Egg, that would
Soon hatch
Open, to release
More yet awesome
E**ggs

I don't have any emotions anymore
Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m having a feeling
Or I am dreaming, while I am awake?

Some might think that my mind
is exploring my emotions
while looking for happiness,

So I decided to bake a melodrama cake
Nope! I meant mel-o-cream butter pound cake
The ingredient is my path to getting my feelings back
Egg, butter, flour, sugar, raisins,
baking powder and a little milk
I just want to transfer my feeling,
with some logical thinking..


  Somewhere, deep within a non stanzaic,
and syllabic poem forms by the minute
It’s going to trend like this cake,
which is going to be bake with love

Poetry is everywhere,
creaming my butter and sugar is poetic
because butter and sugar never stick together. It also
reminds me of Nana’s golden brown patties, tasty and spicy
Adding the eggs, nutmeg, baking powder, brings out the
natural female traits in this Island girl,
without my empowering dreads

The raisins and the baking powder remind me of
The Rise of Radical African American Activism,
And all that rises, rise in due degree
so poetry is everywhere
it's  in everything we say and do.

He is a Fried Egg Jellyfish,
nonetheless he was ignorant
Always pushing things on me
He never considered feelings
Like the Phacellophora camtschatica
his sting is rather weak.
But that doesn't seem to explain
why it took me so long to see
that he was only after one thing.
-
She is a Pacific Sea Nettle
Glowing; always and forever.
I embrace her light even when
I'm feeling smothered.
She is amazing in many ways
But could become dangerous
in a matter of days.
Just like the Chrysaora fuscescens,
She is made of many colors.
Which is why I can't stop looking at her.
-
He is a Purple Striped Jelly
One of the most painful out of these
Oh sweet, Chrysaora colorata,
he truly stung me.
So beautiful inside and out
I should've looked but never touched
I just wanted to be his cancer crab,
but I never was one..
I was the ocean sunfish biting back.
-
He is a Golden Jellyfish
Beautifully mysterious as always
I want to dive straight into him
As I would the lake that the smack lives in.
Very similar to the lake
he is full of golden aspects
that I long to intake.
He hasn't stung me yet,
So why should I ponder mistakes?
He'll always be stuck inside of my head.

As we glide
An incessant Kush
Softens the grind

Can I Sense your Soft Surface? Or
Is it merely a reflection through this
Blue,
Quasi-chequered construction?

I long to see as you see me:
A dangling *******
Encompassed by a wide,
Gasping mouth

Gargling sac

I will see you
On the next train

I may seem hard
From far outside guard
Just thought me inside
And my softest soul will abide
But
With only one uncareful touch
Means so much
Takes no doubt
I could be broken *inside & out

There is an entire universe
of embryonic possibilities
flowing and skating together
as ideas clash
and thoughts soak
in chalaza

With a crack
it all gargles out
a scrambled mess

I was lost when you found me,
then I got loster.