Best Egg White Poems

We’ve not dreamt the crystal morn,
the tinkling ping of sun warmed ice,
the egg white branch of lilac dipped,
the magic of the wintry day 
which fills...

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Have we dreamt the crystal morn, this day of beauteous bones,
tinkling icicles which ping, as they melt, this sun warmed day.
Lilac boughs appear egg white...

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Winter Fantasia.

Snowman, his coat a trillion frosty threads...crotched by Jack,
the naughty mischief maker. 
Each crystal cast perfect by Boreas.      ...

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Have we dreamt the crystal morn, this day of beauteous bones,
tinkling icicles which ping, as they melt, this sun warmed day.
Lilac boughs appear egg white...

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Elder Darwin swims in ethology.
He rolls in his deep grave ecology.
He itches and scratches his dissonance
that survival of most fitted and dense
implies manifest destiny for...

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Long have me feet walked..bare upon de earth of mother Afreeca.
Days, passing in a flow’r chain round de brow of de morn.
De sacred drum calls...

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Boast brownies baking
in dirty palm oil bacon fat
Sugar-coated swine vanilla cupcakes;
pineapple upside down snout snacks,
so coconut phone hasty ...
Sound-byte puff pastry

Flour-face teflon pan — ...

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Now for warm oatmeal with honey and her sugarless tea
To this chrysoberyl dawn rescue from chuted linen bedlam,
For here's a bedside tale to whispered promise...

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This chair has chipped paint.     
Its shadow gangly 
in the light spilling through 
the window. A deep 
buttercup bisque steeps.

Through this...

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Emptiness

(Childrens song / lyrics and music by Joan Donnelly Ellis )

When a thing is empty it is not much good at all
 .
 What good...

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What if we live in and out
among and yet autonomously
with and sometimes against
LeftBrain dominant enculturation?

Colonization,
predation with ego-logical economic secular outcomes
too often predicting compromised long-term health
in...

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A short brief about the modern day censor,
Withholding what we can and can’t read,
Withholding what was once considered free speech, 
Before the censor was let...

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Slathered, oiled frames
Treading sands of time
Foaming tides surge
Briny film develops

Two, virile images
In pixelated motion
Entering Love's folio
Sharing spatial time

Their, silted still life forms
Yesterday's, filtered shadows
On egg-white...

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Oh, I've dreamt of the crystalline morn
where the tinkle of ice melts, as the day's born. 

In my sleep I've seen the lilac boughs dipped
in...

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The phone rang but there was no-one there,
Her imagination flew like a balloon into the air.
“Who was that?”, she asked herself.” Who was that woman?”,...

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