Best Warm As Toast Poems
> have just been sorting out some old papers and guess what I found some old poems.
There talking on the radio
There talking on the radio today.
BBC radio Suffolk, I must say.
About wearing pyjamas when outside.
Not in bed, where you can hide.
I’ll tell you now one week I did.
Wear my pyjamas all day, I do not kid.
Had pants on longjohns too.
On top I wore my trousers true,
Covered all in a white snow suit.
Got the picture? Was not swell.
I was in Germany now I’ll tell.
Exercising my war dogs you know.
In the cold and freezing snow.
All the dogs, I took out that week.
Had their thick coats, so were not bleak.
But they could not my pyjamas see.
But I was still freezing cold you see.
I know using see twice, is not nice.
Nor was the weather, I felt like frozen ice.
But I soon warmed once dogs were fed
Went back to barracks and me bed.
Don’t worry dogs were all okay.
On their bed board’s in deep straw did lay.
When on duty and I checked on them.
I could not see any of them.
All of them, were tucked up warm.
Not like me and my friends with pyjamas worn.
We were cold , you could tell.
As our teeth chattered, wordless as well.
But them dogs, all were fine.
Warm as toast were all of mine.
How could I tell, listen its true.
In the morning what I did do.
I entered each kennel very slow.
To take each dog for walkies you know.
Hidden in their bed of straw.
My hand wandered in for lead to secure .
When I touched my dog, I jest you not.
Was curled up in a ball and blinking hot.
And that was something I was not.
But did I take my pyjamas off, no I blinking well did not.
I don’t care if using not twice, ain’t nice.
As without those pyjamas on, I’d be like ice.
I would be freezing cold and that’s not right.
And on that chill note, I’ll say good night.<
When my kids were small and for several years
We rented a beach house on the Gulf coast
Where the sand was white and the water clear
And the sunshine would feel as warm as toast
Both Bruce and Mary Ann would join us there
In those days, we had the beach to ourselves
A week of fun without a single care
Fish, swim and see sand castles built by elves
Just clear water from shore to the sand bar
It turns to a dark blue where it gets deep
This day, Bruce and I were out pretty far
Lying on air mattresses half asleep
Some people on shore, strolling up the beach
We both heard them when they started to yell
They were screaming Shark! Shark! The sharks out there!
Scared shitless, started paddling like hell
Bruce is a tall guy, about six foot two
While at my best, I stand five foot seven
With those long arms of his, his mattress flew
Way behind, I was praying to heaven
Then it happened, I fell off the mattress
Legs hanging down and floundering around
Looking more like shark bait, increased the stress
Fear was eminence; then my feet hit the ground
Waded to shore, Bruce walked over to me
“Take a look over there, was do you see?”
No sharks, just a few porpoise swimming free
Yet, out there, FEAR was as great as can be
In a land that boasts
You can be warm as toast,
Because the sun shines here,
Every day of the year.
Today the opposite is true,
My fingers are turning blue.
The heaters on high while I watch TV,
Bed is inviting it seems to me.
Sitting here wrapped up tight,
In a sleeping bag, what a sight!
Hot water bottle ready and hot tea too,
I'm off to bed before I get Flu!
© Dave Timperley 2012
One rainy season of my life
I took a trip to Hawaii where
The Maui Isle awaited me
For two long weeks, without a care.
The beach called to me with its sand
So clean and white and warm as toast.
I filled my lungs with ocean air,
Inhaling to my innermost.
My room was eleven stories high,
I could see the ocean all unfurled.
Suspended between the earth and sky
I was insulated from the world.
No fog or smog was shielding me
From beauty of the bright blue sky.
The January sun came shining through
With warmth it borrowed from July.
I felt a peace I'd never known.
I loved the island's relaxed way.
The natives set an easy pace.
Tomorrow is another day.
The flowers with their sweet perfume,
Were like no flowers I'd seen before.
I stored them in my memory vault,
To keep them with me evermore.
When each day's sky is full of clouds
And all of time is dullest grey,
My mind will wander back to where
Summer's just one airplane ride away.
won 3rd place in vacation contest
When my kids were small for several years
We rented a beach house on the Gulf coast
Where sand was white and water clear
And the sunshine would feel as warm as toast
Bruce and Mary Ann always would join us there
In those days, we had the beach to ourselves
A week of fun without a single care
Fish, swim and see sand castles built by elves
Just clear water from shore to the sand bar
Then it turns a dark blue where it gets deep
This day, Bruce and I were out pretty far
Lying on air mattresses half asleep
Some people on shore were strolling the beach
We both heard them when they started to yell
They were screaming Shark! Shark! The sharks out there!
Scared us shitless, both started paddling like hell
Bruce is a tall guy, about six foot two
While at best, I would stand five foot seven
With those long arms of his, his mattress flew
Way behind, I was praying to heaven
Then worst of all thing, fell off the mattress
Legs hanging down and floundering around
I looked even more like shark bait, I guess
Scared to death, then my feet hit the ground
Waded to shore, Bruce walked over to me
He was mad and he said “we should kill them!”
Take a look over there, was do you see
The sharks were just porpoise taking a swim
You know my Sullivan a pet simian ghost
Rolling in blanket as warm as toast
'Watch out, it's my territory', cried out my cat
Just returned from a mission ' to smell a rat'.
It was an eviction but Sullivan braved it out
Clapped his eyes on the grinning feline's snout
He had the world by the tail and he stood erect
Jumped through the hoops to get my bed wreck'd.
And Meenie my cat was not of irrational type
She really hated to blow a hype
She purred and mewed and got her dues
Of milk cream fish broth salami huge.
I was sad for my Sullivan the ghost
In the dead of night he asked for a roast.
A new day began, I sprained my right hand!
Then my furnace decided to "give up the ghost"
Neighbor brought friend who would understand;
soon, room became as warm as toast.
then it stopped dead--all was lost
my muse and I were doomed to frost.
Two electric, space heaters running twenty-four/seven!
It was twenty at night--temp's winter hat doff.
My electric bill was reaching toward the heavens
My muse preferred to scoff
while my toes were freezing off!
Probably Monday, a new one he could install.
It would cost one THOUSAND--I needed some air!
Opened my door, found my son standing tall!
A guy with tech background, drove here to share.
I needed a hero, and he was there!
My muse and I needn't despair.
Aren't sons and daughters a wonderful plan!
They will help with gusto and style.
And hero neighbors lending their helping hand!
Faulty solder fixed; the heat will soon beguile.
My hand needs a brace for a while;
and my muse? I saw a tiny smile.
The Christmas tree is huge this year
with ornaments a glow
And every cup is full of cheer
As the night begins to snow
Every heart as warm as toast
As fireside we sit
Chestnuts roasting on the fire
Now every candle's lit
Presents piled under tree
and stockings hung with care
Everyone will take delight
When Christmas day is here
Cosy
I wake up slow,
Boy with a Ready Brek glow,
Here where I hide the most,
Cosy and as warm as toast.
Fingertips.
Look at your fingertips they are unique you know
Something we don’t think of, and yet them we grow.
That little pattern in a swirl on the end
Is your own work of art that God on you penned
How amazing it is a tip of one of your fingers
It can bring joy and feel pain, and both may linger.
It can be sensuous, moving in little circles decreasing
To make you cry out, in joy and releasing
It can be warm as you like, as warm as toast
But so cold in the winter, like shaking hands with a ghost
It is sensitive to a degree oh so refined
Tracing round lips so gentle, so fine.
That little swirl on the end of your finger, each line,
You alone are the owner, and you can say it is mine.
Don’t treat them rough and they will last you forever
They won’t wear out with time, as things you think more clever
There is another special thing your fingerprint can do
And that is that they can identify you.
My neighbor from across the hall
Complains about the cold
Within her home; she sleeps with socks
And sweaters, we are told.
Her windows face the river
So perhaps the frigid air
From the water blows inside;
The winter causes her despair.
But on my side we face the street
And here it’s warm as toast.
We have to crack the windows
In all weather, or we’d roast.
I guess you can’t have everything.
To gain that river view,
I’d gladly pile on socks and sweaters –
Really, wouldn’t you?
Summer Abounds Within The Midst Of Winter.
.
As purging winter exhales it’s icy biting breath
Be it the season of decay and smothering shroud of death
Of sprinkled frozen powder covered mound and sweeping vale
Glazed lakes and chilling unforgiving cursing winds prevail
.
Ominous forbidding darkened skies
Conceal the blue with their alibi's
The shrill streaks and raucous calls of the crow
With slow flapping wings fly over the white blanket far below
.
A plume of wavering streaming smoke bellows to and throw
A grey parlour in contrast with the pristine snow
Emitted from a log cabin deep in a wood
As warm as toast cosy as a hand in a glove
.
A loving couples secret hideaway
Where many a dreams are weaved
And fold on the eve of a new day
.
A reclining Cat idly slumbers peacefully by a cracking fire ablaze
As flames flicker and dance reflected in the lovers soft glaze
Wrapped up in each other they snuggle as one
Their tender hearts aglow as radiant and smiling as the sun
.
A blissful love nest filled with tender care
And magical moments
There’s to share.
.
Peter Dome©2021.
>I do not know if this classifies as poem as it is slightly religiously, political.
Muslims here, Muslims, there.
From Turkey might soon be everywhere.
Will they be from that peaceful faith?
And full of love, full of faith.
Turkey, if such a nice place.
None would leave that place of faith.
I wonder if what I said is true.
And millions move towards you.
By you. I mean in the EU.
I wonder if we'll be there too.
As Turkey Prime Minister said June too.
I guess soon they will be everywhere.
Spreading their peaceful way here and there.
Hope we keep our heads, so we can go.
Inhabit the lands they have left so.
We can enjoy the warmth from the Sun.
Of course here they can moan and groan.
As pay a fortune to heat our old homes.
We won't care, as we will be.
As warm as toast as Christians be.
As Muslims, none will be left there.
We had our wars I must confess.
But could inhabit the holy land, no less.
As all who lived there are over here.
So we could emigrate with no fear.
And be warmer. Did you hear?
They will be warm in their Burke's here.
We could sunbathe with little fear.
They could blow their homes all up.
While we rebuild. Nice ones with luck.
They can wail into the air.
We can sunbathe over there.
Christians where they ought to be.
Where Christ and his disciples trod, you see.
Muslims can be in the cold.
Moaning about it as I told.
I wonder how long it will be.
They will be crossing over the sea.
Taking back from us Christians again.
And we returned to Great Britain again.
No doubt we will have to rebuild again.
And clean up all the mess again.
Then bless in a two years again.
Start the whole process over again.
If I write again. Any more.
I will explode. I do implore.
Not as a bomb. Oh, not like them.
But just with words from me pen.
I hope it's not too you know, for anybody. (The mad author)<
Torn sail blowing in a gale
sand beautifully shifting, dunes flowing
spray from the edge of a wave
moments camera frozen, seen
snapshots of the mind
memories only you can find
Long-lasting bulls eye ripples grow on the millpond surface
a momentary jumping fish creation
dissipating, gently lapping the hard rocky edge
Suddenly two swans water-ski in
paired parallel wakes created
disrupting reflected hills, sky and trees
tinged pink in gentle sunset breeze
good dry day promised by the sky
red western evenings never lie
High pressure, breeze slow & soft, a warm waft
cloudless ocean deep blue skies
natures treasures for our eyes
The rocky path carries us
up towards the setting sun
warmth disappears to the western coast
we are no longer warm as toast
cooler air moving in, breeze going thin
light fades as we reach the pub
time for hospitality, beer and grub
January 1st. It's cold and raining.
His leather jacket's on your shoulders.
They say it s cold
But am warm as toast
Wrapped up in your jacket
Then I realise your wet
Rain soaking your shirt
Looking up i whisper
Cant we both share
Together we snuggle
Your shirt soaking my blouse
The heat of your skin
Making me shiver with hope
We stop to kiss
Slow passionate embrace
We look into each others eyes
Love, lust smouldering there
Lets go home
Initial row forgotten
Suitcase packed in anger
Kicked aside
Jacket lovingly placed to dry
Love 1 silly row 0
That walk in the rain paid dividends
Thanks mam for suggesting it.
Happy New Year
Penned 27 may 2013