Egg-shells

A metaphoric approach to my problem.

I can't say much about it.

It's simply what it is.

 

It's eggshells.

 

The little white pieces,

a part of a whole,

not something you think much about...

simply not at all.

 

You push all the pieces in a nice little pile

but every now and again,

one escapes for a while.

And you won't know it,

until you feel it poke...

into the bottom of your foot,

where a little pain provokes.

 

That's where you'll find it.

 

As the moral of the story,

you shouldn't walk on eggshells.

Although sometimes unavoidable,

It's dangerous and messy

and definantly not worth your while.

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

Well I'm walkin' on egg-shells, wo-oh. . .Yeah, you're right, let's use "sunshine."

Fire-walkers wouldn't find as much satisfaction either.

But then again, Humpty-Dumpty was always in a precarious position.

Seriously, I understand. Underneath your egg shells is a classic human dilemma, re the handling of love-desire. Ultimately, only the deep breathing spiritual acceptance (grounded on a deeper inner will) avails. Then one walks strong, engages in an egg-smashing party whimsically, or "takes a break" (wow, another pun) from eggs entirely.

As your poem states, not worth your while -- especially that tension before the eggs inevitably crack.

Your poem inspires a "Breakfast Club" concept, whereby the "homicidal bitchin' that goes on in every kitchen" (Leonard Cohen) is addressed, vis-a-vis "bringin' home the bacon" and other handy edible metaphors.

Full disclosure: my spontaneous whimsy is probably the result of having just resolved an egg-shell issue myself. ;-)

Good work!

[Michael Guccione]

A routine metaphor that you've been able to draw your own slant across.

[An owl on the moon]

Perfect poetry! You take a vivid image and weave it around with such beauty and depth. I've missed your writing!

Craig