Medium:Pen and dry media on paper.
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A Private View of Eggs
''Eggrimond is such a good egg,'' said the Egg People.
They had come to see the eggshibition 'Eggs in Art,'
at the Loyal Eggademy at Burleggdon House in Eggdon.
Eggrimond Eggrington, artist in residence, awaited the throng,
clutching a glass of rednogg wine.
A myriad of coloured shells mounted the central staircase,
some decorated eggs competed with the art for eggsposure.
Lady Yolkenby Poachling, Sir Humpton Eggpack,
Clancy Clutch-Feathers and Magor Yolkrising;
everyone who did doesn't matter, rubbed shells
in the hope of a higher grading.
''Eggs are art; the rudimentory incubates greatness,''
said Eggrimond, sporting a spotted bow-tie.
''Eggs have vision,'' replied an old rather small egg,
sipping eggvocar. His height a yolk he had to bear,
necessitated that he should see without looking.
Lady Shelly, flounced her yellow dress amidst
a clutch of admirers. She contemplated the embryonic
nature of Modegg Art.
''A seed amongst the oak trees of tradition,'' she murmured.
The eyes in her blue shell gazed in trance,
beyond the parameters of her illustration.
''Modegg Art is a mundane egg laid upon primordial waters,''
said Lady Eggdressing. Eight assorted friends
eggily gazed through glazed eyes.
Art was speaking to their yolk within.
From 'The Egg People' by Zacron. DACS text and images, all rights reserved.
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