HappyHoosier Posted February 8, 2007 Share Posted February 8, 2007 It moves so little, if at all, like a bomb waiting to be itself. Wow. You've outdone yourself, Mini. Your prose-poem is profound in its inanity -- and, trust me, I know inane literature when I see it. That's what I got my college degree in! I see touches of Frost, cummings and Seuss in your work. And, your use of symbolism is brilliant. The egg stands for postmodern society struggling against the alligators, snakes and swans of poverty, violence and despair, right? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
miniminch Posted February 8, 2007 Author Share Posted February 8, 2007 I woke up this morning and for a moment, as the snow hung from the window and the light gently burned through the curtains, I forgot about my egg. I was happy again; momentarily lifted from the burden of such things. And as I lay confused by this dream I had of the floor crumbling at my feet and a girl I had never met, who lives in the sky, I smiled because the day had come. It is these moments, when the curtains are still drawn, that the stillness and ancestry of the room makes a noise of escape into your own self. It's like being under warm water, without the need for air; you would stay there and never surface and although you can still hear the world in the distance beyond the glass and the brick of your cave, it does not belong to you; and nor do you require it to. But then the egg came back to me. It was like coming up. A wave of rich love from toe to heart, thickens in the arms and flushes the cheeks. The taste of metal and the memory of the precious gift. I went to look at it; half expecting a dragon; or something that lives in the sky. Still, no movement, clay white and perfect; full and safe as my heart. Can anything come between us? No! Not the sound of the radio nor the dripping shower head can drain this moment. I've never been so happy - honestly! Than today here with my egg - my beautiful egg. I shone a torch through her body and saw shadows in her x-ray. Maybe one moved; maybe it was the light. But there was something curled into an egg shape and its potential was palatial. Its whitewashed face - so cold, empty and pretty. My tabula Rasa! Today, I will give my egg a name - something pretty, something Russian. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
fox20thc Posted February 8, 2007 Share Posted February 8, 2007 Babooshka perhaps.. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
lizzmobile Posted February 8, 2007 Share Posted February 8, 2007 Anna Karenina maybe? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
StarSparkle Posted February 8, 2007 Share Posted February 8, 2007 Or Margarita? Sparkle Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Longcol Posted February 8, 2007 Share Posted February 8, 2007 I Today, i will give my egg a name - something pretty, something Russian. Why not Welsh - Meggan would do nicely. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Fragonard Posted February 8, 2007 Share Posted February 8, 2007 Fox20thc...think you hit the nail on the head! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Fragonard Posted February 8, 2007 Share Posted February 8, 2007 Do tell us the name of your egg, Mini Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tricky Posted February 8, 2007 Share Posted February 8, 2007 Is it Olegg? Nadia Comanegg is quite pretty. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
fr8neck Posted February 8, 2007 Share Posted February 8, 2007 Today, i will give my egg a name - something pretty, something Russian. 'Stalin' it is then! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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