~~~
It wasn't the egg that cracked.
Though damaged young, I survived.
As time purposely progressed,
the cracks inside yawned and
my pressure cooker brain was ready to explode.
I found a valve to release
the stressing stream of my ideas.
Over time, I grew to understand
where, untainted, my true rhythm was,
where the beauty in the pain resides.
I had to make the words crack like my spirit had,
make the love I feel flow
over the verdant fields of my soul.
It happens as I drift at night, in twilight,
or when someone touches my heart with a sigh.
~~~~~
A contest entry
- when poetry happens by Dienush.
1250 points, ended July 13, 2008, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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The metaphor you used is very creative, though I felt a lot of this poem is just trying to put that metaphor into context. Interesting phrasing and imagery, though. Thanks for your entry
~Diana
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Actually, Dienush, this is just what came out of me. The only thing that I tried to "put...into context" was the rhythm. The words came easily. This is what has created the poet in me. Thanks for your input.
~ Joyce
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This is just lovely. A recounting of why it started and when it happens.
My favorite lines are 'made the love I feel flow over the verdant fields of my soul' - quite powerful and truly where the poet resides.
From the complexities of night dreams to the gentle touch that presses emotion - yes, indeed - that IS where it happens. I liked this so much. ~Pamela 
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Thank you, Pamela, for the kind words on Evolution. ~ Joyce
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To find release from the pressures of life is a true blessing. To find another person that will do that for you is a blessing indeed.
Love,
Amera♥
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Thank you for reading and making comment on my poem. ~ Joyce
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