the distorted shell broke-
without the hardened, tough, exterior
yolk flowed out with no direction
changing into a yellowing flower
minus the sweet smell but a stink
my hand reached out to pick it
when the slimy wetness touched it
with repugnance, I drew back
A tiny bird flew out of my head
leaving me with the following thoughts
"untamed is the symmetry of our mind’s tigers"
these lonely days of blue
has resulted in a demented state
no wonder I had cut you with the bitter blades of what
I think, is deep hatred for your changling state
"the same state I had once proudly possessed in myself"
Patchwork Poetry done by taking lines from Paisley, lirone, lissa and writerwoman, in that order!
I really like this!
ReplyDeletetaking lines from somewhere else and putting them in a poem? interesting thought and you did a wonderful job!
ReplyDeleteI guess we all change, and not always into something we like
ReplyDeleteWhat a fascinating overlay of changing ideas.
ReplyDeleteGemma
more often than not,, what we despise in other people,, is what we secretly find ever so distasteful in ourselves..
ReplyDeleteLove the yellowing flower
ReplyDeleteI think Paisley got it about right. We hate our mirror image.
ReplyDeleteGee, Tami, I hope after all that you cooked it. :-)
ReplyDeleteInteresting technique, I love the changing texture of the words here.
ReplyDeletethis was very good.
ReplyDeletethis says much about change and reluctance to it...
ReplyDeleteVery interesting imagery in this one.
ReplyDeleteI like the surreal quality of the bird coming out of the narrator's head after touching the yolk. The description of the yolk is also very vivid. Wonderful symbolism.
ReplyDeleteFunny at first and then creeps into...demented. Eery.
ReplyDeleteI like it though it sounds eerie to me
ReplyDeleteI love the image 'a tiny bird flew out of my head'
ReplyDeleteOmigosh!! How this Works.
ReplyDelete