Long Egg white Poems
Long Egg white Poems. Below are the most popular long Egg white by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Egg white poems by poem length and keyword.
BREAKFAST NOT AT TIFFANY’S
I remember eating breakfast in the corner luncheonette
Two eggs over easy with a side of toast
Danny ordered a cheese and egg white omelet
While I read the Times and was totally engrossed
The sun hadn’t risen yet as the red neon shone
Suddenly our waiter dropped a plate on the floor
Danny and I both heard the clumsy server moan
And then a good looking lady walked through the door
She donned a halter top and our eyes didn’t falter
Danny and I stared with amorous thoughts in our head
Just then she greeted her boyfriend named Walter
And there went our thoughts of getting her in bed
Walter was six-feet-three and two hundred pounds
A man neither Danny nor I cared to rile
A waitress emptied some stale coffee grounds
Some of which fell on the floor of ceramic tile
An old gray haired lady ate some kind of slop
I couldn’t identify the food with specificity
While Danny and I ate the waiter grabbed a mop
And Danny told me about a hot chick named Felicity
Our conversation flowed from Felicity to friends and foes
Then I ordered one more piece of toast and an egg
Just then Walter and his girlfriend arose
And that’s when I noticed a gun strapped to Walter’s leg
It seemed that Walter didn’t plan on paying the check
And so he stuck his gun in the owner’s flustered face
He then grabbed the pretty waitress by the neck
When suddenly the owner sprayed Walter with mace
While all this went on Danny went for the register’s cash
A move which truly had astounded me
Both of us ran out and made a maniacally mad dash
And that’s how two junkies got a lot of dope in essence for free
© 2012…PHREEPOETREE..free cee!
BREAKFAST NOT AT TIFFANY’S
I remember eating breakfast in the corner luncheonette
Two eggs over easy with a side of toast
Danny ordered a cheese and egg white omelet
While I read the Times and was totally engrossed
The sun hadn’t risen yet as the red neon shone
Suddenly our waiter dropped a plate on the floor
Danny and I both heard the clumsy server moan
And then a good looking lady walked through the door
She donned a halter top and our eyes didn’t falter
Danny and I stared with amorous thoughts in our head
Just then she greeted her boyfriend named Walter
And there went our thoughts of getting her in bed
Walter was six-feet-three and two hundred pounds
A man neither Danny nor I cared to rile
A waitress emptied some stale coffee grounds
Some of which fell on the floor of ceramic tile
An old gray haired lady ate some kind of slop
I couldn’t identify the food with specificity
While Danny and I ate the waiter grabbed a mop
And Danny told me about a hot chick named Felicity
Our conversation flowed from Felicity to friends and foes
Then I ordered one more piece of toast and an egg
Just then Walter and his girlfriend arose
And that’s when I noticed a gun strapped to Walter’s leg
It seemed that Walter didn’t plan on paying the check
And so he stuck his gun in the owner’s flustered face
He then grabbed the pretty waitress by the neck
When suddenly the owner sprayed Walter with mace
While all this went on Danny went for the register’s cash
A move which truly had astounded me
Both of us ran out and made a maniacally mad dash
And that’s how two junkies got a lot of dope in essence for free
© 2012….copyright..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
BREAKFAST NOT AT TIFFANY’S
I remember eating breakfast in the corner luncheonette
Two eggs over easy with a side of toast
Danny ordered a cheese and egg white omelet
While I read the Times and was totally engrossed
The sun hadn’t risen yet as the red neon shone
Suddenly our waiter dropped a plate on the floor
Danny and I both heard the clumsy server moan
And then a good looking lady walked through the door
She donned a halter top and our eyes didn’t falter
Danny and I stared with amorous thoughts in our head
Just then she greeted her boyfriend named Walter
And there went our thoughts of getting her in bed
Walter was six-feet-three and two hundred pounds
A man neither Danny nor I cared to rile
A waitress emptied some stale coffee grounds
Some of which fell on the floor of ceramic tile
An old gray haired lady ate some kind of slop
I couldn’t identify the food with specificity
While Danny and I ate the waiter grabbed a mop
And Danny told me about a hot chick named Felicity
Our conversation flowed from Felicity to friends and foes
Then I ordered one more piece of toast and an egg
Just then Walter and his girlfriend arose
And that’s when I noticed a gun strapped to Walter’s leg
It seemed that Walter didn’t plan on paying the check
And so he stuck his gun in the owner’s flustered face
He then grabbed the pretty waitress by the neck
When suddenly the owner sprayed Walter with mace
While all this went on Danny went for the register’s cash
A move which truly had astounded me
Both of us ran out and made a maniacally mad dash
And that’s how two junkies got a lot of dope in essence for free
© 2012….copyright..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
BREAKFAST NOT AT TIFFANY’S
I remember eating breakfast in the corner luncheonette
Two eggs over easy with a side of toast
Danny ordered a cheese and egg white omelet
While I read the Times and was totally engrossed
The sun hadn’t risen yet as the red neon shone
Suddenly our waiter dropped a plate on the floor
Danny and I both heard the clumsy server moan
And then a good looking lady walked through the door
She donned a halter top and our eyes didn’t falter
Danny and I stared with amorous thoughts in our head
Just then she greeted her boyfriend named Walter
And there went our thoughts of getting her in bed
Walter was six-feet-three and two hundred pounds
A man neither Danny nor I cared to rile
A waitress emptied some stale coffee grounds
Some of which fell on the floor of ceramic tile
An old gray haired lady ate some kind of slop
I couldn’t identify the food with specificity
While Danny and I ate the waiter grabbed a mop
And Danny told me about a hot chick named Felicity
Our conversation flowed from Felicity to friends and foes
Then I ordered one more piece of toast and an egg
Just then Walter and his girlfriend arose
And that’s when I noticed a gun strapped to Walter’s leg
It seemed that Walter didn’t plan on paying the check
And so he stuck his gun in the owner’s flustered face
He then grabbed the pretty waitress by the neck
When suddenly the owner sprayed Walter with mace
While all this went on Danny went for the register’s cash
A move which truly had astounded me
Both of us ran out and made a maniacally mad dash
And that’s how two junkies got a lot of dope in essence for free
© 2012….copyright..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Winter Fantasia.
Snowman, his coat a trillion frosty threads...crotched by Jack,
the naughty mischief maker.
Each crystal cast perfect by Boreas. #
Blizzard bullies, bustling, jig-sawed sleet,
crystallized in my mindscape of imagery.
Winter Sun dares to melt you down, pasty white.
Your peculiar perfume, suggests ice cubes soaked in lemon-crush.
Shiver, quiver. As goose-bumps frazzle your Arctic world
the moon shines crazy, diamond flames hang in the lonely sky.
I materialise you...the absent person,
I colour the scene with my paintbrush and bucket.
Bold, stiff... blow a bon-bon kiss,
you sentry on snow-laden ice,
under heaven-hung, bunting stars...
a diamante necklace, swanked by Nyx, Greek Goddess of the Night.
Platted rainbows twist, entwine hues, illuminate
a fibre-glassed squirrel who morphs into a swirl of peppermint puffs
and whirls round in muffled silence.
Rouge-crested Robin rests on cold shoulder, then
alights on umber wings...
Ruby stained Snowman chuckles like river ripples,
egg-white flakes dying to pirouette,
airborne ballerinas, swivelling, spinning...
from knitted, silken clouds, finer than a Fuschia’s blush.
Come Spring sprinkles of Lime grass and creamed Crocus
blanket my view where you once stood.
Reality or imagination, I am the speaker of this poem,
so Jack, draw fern-like patterns on my windows, then
run away with Nymph shadows...
Even the wind dies happy.
# Boreas...Greek God of Winter.
In the realm where chaos takes its toll,
There is a soul that suffers from madness.
Behind iron bars, locked in a jail,
Yet within a mind where dreams are endless
But don't brood, there is a safe refuge.
This anxious soul finds peace after the deluge
In a quiet nook, afar from sadness.
The egg-white omelet is a staple for slackness.
And every morning they gently bake their toast.
Spread thick strawberry jam such a coat.
A simple pleasure, a luxury they allow.
To brighten their days and calm their blow.
Because in this world of chaos and despair.
Lonesome fear may follow them everywhere.
But in their hearts, they have a special trust.
A love for the earth, a never-fading hope or disgust.
They watch as children pass by, innocent and free.
Wishing to join their carefree way
But they understand the path they must tread.
Their calling is to explain and portray.
They teach with grace and a gentle touch.
The wonders of life and the beauty that can be found
They show the children the power of love.
And how to navigate the depths of the ground.
With hands in the soil, they dig and sow.
Planting seeds of hope and possibility.
The water and sunshine nourish their growth.
As they tend to the garden with gentle humility.
And as the flowers bloom, a sense of wonder fills the air.
The realm of chaos transformed into a space of awe.
Poised between love and grief, they stand,
In this realm of chaos and despair,
THE 3 QUESTION QUIZ
Knife at her throat—
gentle and long
delicate
on her neck
Neck
Like the snow white cranes that flew overhead
Knife at her throat
Retribution
For her …
who was it?
Shaking hand paused---
who?
Her grandfather’s father’s uncle
He thought it was right
The knife edge glittered dust-speckled in the sun
Glint hypnotizing
settled the shaking hand
Now he was calm
deadly calm
Was it on her mother’s side
... breath...
Or her father’s side
... breath...
Suddenly this conundrum
magnified
clarified the air
became more important
than his own name
became more
urgent
than
The trickle
Of blood
That slid over
His fingers...
lovely blue rivers
pulsing
under his fingertips
beneath her skin
on its way
thru the valley
of her egg white body
Knife clattered
on the teak desk of her grandfather's uncle
she lay stunned
open wide
the window
swallowed him
into the midnight velvet
Victoria Anderson-Throop 2013
Juja, Kenya
This chair has chipped paint.
Its shadow gangly
in the light spilling through
the window. A deep
buttercup bisque steeps.
Through this stream, ember
motility of curdled
cream seeps into pores.
The seat embraces. Blood
colors sugar soft.
Fragments of dust waver
around the chair. Like
the suspended stars, or
the pixel points on
an LCD screen. Crumbs.
Feathers stick to the cheeks,
to be brushed off,
puff into the heavens.
Egg -white tinctured coat
wilts within the humid
air. Like the jaundiced
skin you wished to shed
when you first sundered
the sheets this morning.
This chair rocked my great
grandmother and her
children, and mother. Creaks
like an anchored boat.
Exposed grey brown wood
perishes, stabs the skin.
Like the chilled sea tinted
eyes: an ingress tears
the hushed air- a summons:
her son. Long ago
an apollyon. Starless.
The chair will be kindle
in September, sand-
peach colors imbued,
flushed like the candied
burn of Fall. Her flames.
Relive the fire
in the sky; salt waters
plum green, oily.
tauten red orange arms.
War in the distance-
better. The rose portrait,
diabolus shades stain
a cimmeran- tinted
loss, wound. Chalk inhaled.
And the blaze of two black
holes colliding. Wraiths.
The winter of her life,
within which a lurid
spirit-thin webbed cross
bleeds ash. Freezes; clots.
This chair has chipped paint.
Its shadow gangly
in the light spilling through
the window. A deep
buttercup bisque steeps.
Through this stream, ember
motility of curdled
cream seeps into pores.
The seat embraces. Blood
colors sugar soft.
Fragments of dust waver
around the chair. Like
the suspended stars, or
the pixel points on
an LCD screen. Crumbs.
Feathers stick to the cheeks,
to be brushed off,
puff into the heavens.
Egg -white tinctured coat
wilts within the humid
air. Like the jaundiced
skin you wished to shed
when you first sundered
the sheets this morning.
This chair rocked my great
grandmother and her
children, and mother. Creaks
like an anchored boat.
Exposed grey brown wood
perishes, stabs the skin.
Like the chilled sea tinted
eyes: an ingress tears
the hushed air- a summons:
her son. Long ago
an apollyon. Starless.
The chair will be kindle
in September, sand-
peach colors imbued,
flushed like the candied
burn of Fall. Her flames.
Relive the fire
in the sky; salt waters
plum green, oily.
tauten red orange arms.
War in the distance-
better. The rose portrait,
diabolus shades stain
a cimmeran- tinted
loss, wound. Chalk inhaled.
And the blaze of two black
holes colliding. Wraiths.
The winter of her life,
within which a lurid
spirit-thin webbed cross
bleeds ash. Freezes; clots.
This chair has chipped paint.
Its shadow gangly
in the light spilling through
the window. A deep
buttercup bisque steeps.
Through this stream, ember
motility of curdled
cream seeps into pores.
The seat embraces. Blood
colors sugar soft.
Fragments of dust waver
around the chair. Like
the suspended stars, or
the pixel points on
an LCD screen. Crumbs.
Feathers stick to the cheeks,
to be brushed off,
puff into the heavens.
Egg -white tinctured coat
wilts within the humid
air. Like the spectral
skin you wished to shed
when you first sundered
the sheets this morning.
This chair rocked my great
grandmother and her
children, and mother. Creaks
like an anchored boat.
Exposed grey brown wood
perishes, stabs the skin.
Like the chilled sea tinted
eyes: an ingress tears
the hushed air- a summons:
her son. Long ago
an apollyon. Starless.
The chair will be kindle
in September, sand-
peach colors imbued,
flushed like the candied
burn of Fall. Her flames.
Relive the fire
in the sky; salt waters
plum green, oily.
tauten red orange arms.
War in the distance-
better. The rose portrait,
diabolus shades stain
a cimmeran- tinted
loss, wound. Chalk inhaled.
And the blaze of two black
holes colliding. Wraiths.
The winter of her life,
within which a lurid
spirit-thin webbed cross
bleeds ash. Freezes; clots.