Best Stove Poems
I’m smooth and sleek with cute curves
I always manage to attract your attention
You can’t wait to get your hands on me ...
Know all the right buttons to press
I can feel my temperature rising
Sometimes I can get so steamy
You can hear me hiss with excitement
At times I have been known to bubble over
I can feel myself burning with desire to please you
Oh man I can get so so hot
With your deft fingertips you can control me
Soon my job is done and you are totally satisfied
When it’s all over you leave me to cool down
Then you can’t wait to caress me with a damp cloth
Oh how I love it when you do that
I just can't wait until you turn me on again
Contest ~Tribute to a Major Appliance
Sponsor ~Mary Oliver Rotman
09~10~15
Oh My Gosh! What’s the matter with you?
You could be squatting outside over a fire!
So you have to clean me once in awhile…big deal!
I slave for you with never a thank you.
Turn a knob and I heat your fancy pans..
I simmer, I boil, I bake for hours…
And what do I get in return…whining
about the new self cleaning ovens…stainless
steel the big “I have to have”! I may be plain
but I never let you down. and yet…you sigh
whenever you have to wipe a spill.
So who's fault it that?
You’re the one who was gossiping on the phone..
Not my fault! I hate to be the one to tell you..but
You’re A Crummy Cook!”..I do my best but
you’ve got to follow a recipe…you’re not a natural!..
Awwwhhh, forget it I’m tired. You don’t listen anyway…
Who cares if you order take out tomorrow…
Not me, that’s for sure…
Dedicated to My Moma
My favorite appliance is not my own
or even located inside of my home.
No matter where on this earth I rove,
I gladly returned to my Mother’s stove.
My family lived all over the world
so her stove's colors are memory swirl,
but they all had one trait in common -
ensuring nutrition was never a problem.
My Mother’s stove was like sacred ground
where memories were both kept and found.
There have been accidents and experiments,
all kinds of assorted stove incidents.
There have been familiars, real dinner winners,
dilemmas and treats turning us all into grinners.
Always her stove turned dinners to love
whether they thrilled or illed my taste buds.
My Mother’s stove had the perfect flare
for keeping each member, family aware.
I wish for mealtime recall ever vibrant
that stays my stove-Mother-joy alignment.
Puffy words never made the bird bigger
STOVE is my easle.
Cookware are my tools to reach
Creativity.
One Enduring Stove
A tribute to a major appliance
I am tough, hard working, good looking, and blend well with my neighbors.
I come in various colors with different compartments and choices in sizes
I am not perfect, because like everything else, I’m not made to last forever. But just think about it; When have you seen me broken down and useless?
I will be there when you need me, serve you for years, and keep you fed.
I can be low tech or high tech; but I make you proud and happy regardless.
I am versatile, enabling you to utilize gas or electric; even wood if you prefer.
I have three good neighbors, one of whom washes after meals and one who refrigerates. My other good neighbor is a friendly freezer who’s able to store food for a very long time. I don't mean to brag, but if I may say so myself, I really think that I am the most important of the four of us.
Let’s face it. When we are talking about gathering for the family meal, it’s me you think about. O, you can smoke a turkey without me; but if I were you, I would not do thanksgiving without me. I can bake, barbecue, boil, broil, fry, or even steam; I can also deliver it rare, medium, or well done.
I know that one can eat fruits, nuts, and some healthy vegetables right out of their back yard garden; and there are many fresh things one may choose to eat without heating or cooking. However, if you really want to sit down as a family and enjoy a great and memorable meal, you really need me.
I know that I am primarily thought of as a cooking appliance, but that’s not all I’m good for. In the winter, while I’m cooking your tasty meals, I’m also assisting in keeping your home nice and warm.
09102015 PS Contest, Any Poem Written On Your Birthday, Laura Loo, 4P
S autee
T urkey
O ver
V eggies
E asy
Copyright McCuen 2009
With her wicks she’s not weak,
Her voice soothes me with great pleasure,
Her hands keep me warm when I’m sick,
Cooking nice food is a treasure,
Spores of bacteria are rendered passive,
As the black pot is inflamed and heated,
I’m strongly attracted to this lovely eve,
As her necklace and earrings are well fitted,
Sometimes she can be smoky and naughty,
When food is in short supply and stomach empty,
Then she likes to paint my aluminium black,
I always hate this and try to fight back.
Pinhead sized raindrops fall in numbers, attempting to imitate fog
Green needled giants with red bark stand at attention and point at the sky
The odd deciduous turns yellow as though in fear of the impending cold
They are dwarfed by valley walls which are sealed above by oppressive clouds
Mighty Columbia drops an ice cold tongue, coloured from the cleanest blue to the dirtiest grey, to lick the valley floor
It drools crystal clear water and spits moraine
POP!
The wood makes the same sound being split by fire or by axe
We face each other on a bench by the stove
We alternate sides attempting to maintain a balance between the side feeling the heat of the stove and the other being chilled by the mountain breeze
Our hot side like the heat of summer and our cold side like the chill of winter
The seasons change in us as they do outside
Each season returning to itself in the course of time
White streaks through dark night-sky-hair to slowly become the meteor shower that awaits us
*** Scat, Cat! ***
No! Cat, don’t paw
That yarn ball
I use to crochet. Go!
Scat, cat! You won’t like so
much my scolding you more at all.
Stop! Scat! Don’t sit
on the stove
To warm your legs or I’ll
Find hairs in the eggs and scream in a fit.
‘Scat! Cat, just don’t think of it!’
Here, cat, swat at this yellow feather
I’m swaying below to tickle your nose.
No! Stay down! You’ll scratch
the soft sofa’s leather!
It’s not my hand’s waving that you’re
meant to be after!
Scat! I’m trying to sleep
And you will NOT squeeze me
Off MY pillow! Scat! Find your own!
Leave me here in dreamland alone!
Just scat! What’s that, cat?
You want to hear a story before going?
Okay, then, here’s an old-told cat tale
Shared outside along on the fences of your roaming:
“Meeeee-owl, meeee-ewe meeee-Yowl! echoing
Out over all the lawns in a feral greeting, Hi and hail!”
Thus, cat, so it goes and enough is told, enough…
Scat!
——————————————————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 12/10/2022
Thanks be to God…
***a poem to illustrate one of my
“Living with Cats” drawings.
He's staring at me
From the bricks of the wood stove
With beady black eyes
I read defiance
I move and he scurries off
I cannot catch him
Brown little bugger
Scratching around late at night
Invading our home
Keeping me awake
How do I get my hands on you?
Our cat's too lazy!
Perhaps a nice trap?
Tasty bit of poisoned cheese?
A sharp carving knife?
Our dull clumsy cat
Would end up stuck in the trap
Poisoned by the cheese!
I must have this mouse!
My wife says I must catch it
Without killing it...
Love is parading around on the stove tonight
Cooking beanie weanies for the likes of me.
The smell makes me smile.
And he makes me giddy.
For fifty-five years I have been in love with this fifteen-year-old boy.
He is grinning like a sailor who just fell off the back of a whale.
He is seeing my dancing legs on the hood of his 1959 Pink Cadillac.
Love has prevailed.
Love is here.
Love is now, love sweet love.
Both dogs come running. The big and the little, the young and the old.
They sense that Mommy and Daddy are about to hug, maybe kiss.
Their radar is keen, and they want in on the action.
Besides Daddy is standing next to the refrigerator.
There might be a baloney treat in there somewhere for each.
We are a family, a family.
We’re a mommy and a daddy and a Buddy and a Sophie.
How our lives have changed.
We have three daughters and two sons-in-law, all lovely and fine.
Shark, the cat, is somewhere, probably eating a headless mouse.
But the one thing that never changes is love.
Ten grandchildren have it, we have it, and the woods keeps it for us.
It blows through the oaks and the willow.
Flitters and flutters around us in the forms of wasp, cardinals and butterflies.
For fifty-five years I have been in love with a fifteen-year-old boy.
my broken stove
by americus
My girl, she's a broken stove, but she can give me children above
My girl is too hot, she sits and simmers until she rots
My girl she's too high, she sits there staring at me in the sky
My girl is too fast, i touch her hair as she talks about the past
...
My body is too broken, i am awake but i have not woken
I contain too much heat, i shred my skin just to compete
I can get oh so high, I break my wings trying to fly
I can get way too low, down down, down my mind goes
I can get oh so cold, i freeze in time and can’t hear what i am told
But this broken stove still cooks, and she challenges all the books
Although it matters not anywhere else my heart crushes for what it knows better to have...
I am overreacting and incapable of concluding the ordeal inside myself...
I know how vain and futile such an allowance of mind into obsession is...
Indeed a desperate man void of inspiration leaches on any hope...
This inspires the fire within...
Long a go the fire warmed my soul now so cold...
A stove of ash and coal...
How long shall I dwell within this fantasy so real?
I'm eruptive
Explosive
Ready to implode
Feel the heat inside me rising
Like a kettle on a stove
I clench my teeth together
Grind them with my jaw
So filled with pain and anger
My fury is so raw
My skin is turning color
I see it in my face
From white to deep red scarlet
As my blood begins to race
I'm so mad I'm shaking
These flames just cant be caged
I'm on fire, an inferno
Burning up with rage
Won't somebody save me
End this misery
Douse me with some water
Take a blanket, smother me
Please hurry it's engulfing me
Turn the heat down, make me cold
Before I char and turn to ashes
Like a kettle on a stove