Kyser Poems

Ode To My Humble Toaster

Oh, my beloved toaster,
How you start my day with delight.
Your warm embrace, a comforting boast,
A breakfast staple in every right.

With your sleek design and metallic sheen,
You toast my bread to perfection.
Golden brown, a sight to be seen,
A joyous moment, a breakfast confection.

Through thick and thin, you never fail,
A trusty appliance, always by my side.
A constant source of toast and bagel,
Your reliability I cannot deny.

Oh, my dear toaster, how you bring joy,
To my mornings, my days, my life.
A simple pleasure, a humble ploy,
But one that fills my heart with rife.

So here's to you, my beloved toaster,
A common household item, yet so divine.
I raise my toast to your faithful poster,
A praise to your simplicity so sublime.


Ode to My Humble Toaster
By Muhammed Adnan
Date: March 5, 2023
To An Ode Poetry Contest
 Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser

An Ode To My Cot

Oh, dear Cot, you have supported me steady
From my days of infancy to senility
All through life you are my close buddy, 
In unrest, it is in you I seek tranquillity. 
Sprawling on your chest, to what all places I wander
To dream’s never- never land where I gleefully meander

Whenever I long for a relaxing nap
Like a host, you wait for me with all hospitality
When darkness descends, invariably I come to your lap
And you wilfully extend your warm cordiality
You are a close companion and a loving friend
I cannot tell, with you, how much of my time I spend

Both in the mundane regularity of daily life
And in sickness and ill health, you are dearly cherished
After a day’s tedious toil, you give me instant relief
Thus, in umpteen ways, your presence is greatly relished.
Of all other furniture that make a house a home
You are the most valued in your quadruped form 

March.4. 2023

~ Placed Second~

Write an Ode Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Jeff Kyser

Ode To My Bed

My bed is a vintage and very old 
I adore the swirled black metal
nice to behold
so delicate each created petal
I inherited it from grandma long ago
and can never let it go

The mattress is not to everyone's taste
perhaps a bit lumpy and soft
with pillows placed
a perfect bed in my open space loft
oh, each night I lay caressed by my vintage bed
under a down bedspread

The bed is close to a window dormer
it looks really beautiful there
nothing warmer
in the sunshine the best bed anywhere
so cozy to just lay and soak up the morn' sun
before day has begun

_________________________
February 28, 2023


Poetry/Ode/Ode to my Bed
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1528-594-28
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France

Written for the Standard contest, Write An Ode
sponsor, Jeff Kyser. Judged 03/08/2023

Second Place

Ode To a Sign

A sign, slanted rays in mid-morning hour.
Opening of tomb
with power.
Before it spoke, was hidden in tree’s womb -
scar of wood,
in tandem two parts.
Much like the sign on Calvary - I AM
stained on splintered wood…
twining hearts.
Man’s substitute - in the thicket a ram.

Matthew 28:6, He Has Risen -
a sign that believes.
A prison
of florals, eggs, butterflies and green leaves.
A feast to
the soul of my eyes.
The circular pattern - the ring of life.
Tulips royal hue.
Wings arise.
What all long for - sign speaks of afterlife.

Most poignant the sign above bleeding lamb;
mine is uplifting.
Pounding bam -
character etched in wood, in this gifting.
A debate
of stencilled brush-light -
daffodils - orange and yellow, curved leaves -
blue-green shades, a fete.
Future bright.
Open eyes to the sign - this one believes.

2/28/2023
Write an Ode
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser

Bottle Squeezer

As we sat around the table drinking our glasses of tea 
My father wanted his bottle squeezer, so he asked for it, from me 
As I searched through all the drawers and looked through every door 
I couldn't find that bottle squeezer, nor have I ever did before
 
As we sat around the table, dessert time now was due 
My mother asked me- son...would you like to try some "Snu" 
Not knowing what the stuff was, I asked my mom "What's snu" 
She said to me- "Nothing much- what is new, with you" 

I asked her where the bottle squeezer was, so I could give it to my dad 
She said- "Sorry son, but ya know, I think you've just been had 
There's no such thing you're looking for dad called a "Bottle Squeezer" 
He's pulled that joke on me before, your dad is such a teaser 


Write An Ode Poetry Contest 
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser 
2/28/2023

Ode To My Plastic Angel

With a feathery smile on her chiseled face 
she looks as angelic as the real ones in the sky 
adorning my window ledge she fills up every space,   
like any proper angel would normally do;
I hear her whisper at the edge of night  
secrets that were meant for me alone 
She quietly supports my every prayer 
this little angel of God, who never goes abroad ;

She is a stationary idol of the highest order 
she comforts me each night with her presence and grace  
and although she cannot see my face,  
she knows every hidden feeling I encase, 
every hope, every desire, every fear that I misplace.

I, a weather beaten traveler of life's weary journey 
gives ode to this lovely altar Angel, she is a reminder
that Angels do exist, she may be made of plastic but to me, 
she is a living, breathing, object of great valor 
when I pray. 

Feb 27, 2023
Sponsor	Jeff Kyser
Contest Name	Write an Ode |

O Mirror

In my house as if I’m an alien
Ladies chamber form its den
The mirror of the dressers table
Stays busy as a beautician cable
Dawn to dusk as if it’s a parlor
Except me, it’s in house wife’s care

O Mirror who you are factually
Where you are from genetically
I know you are not Aphrodite 
But you can show the reality
Of true reflection you have the power
By which we can cover the outside layer 

I know myself by the true knowledge and prudent wisdom
O Mirror you can teach how to represent the self-rhythm 
Your acceptance to all as a pioneer of embodiment guide
As like the true wise you can reveal the un-foreseeing side
With your kind escort, we can make up our whimsical sights
O Mirror, live long to reflect the insightful clear
No disguise, for my lady form me in your nature 


February 26, 2023


Write an Ode Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser

An Ode To My Bookshelf

Custodian of nostalgic memories,
I cannot help but glance at it everyday,
for it holds in its fold nearly forgotten stories,
that in the distant past used to make my heart sway,
now awaiting the urge within my soul to recreate 
and so relive the charm of mystical echoes,
that here and now I may again celebrate
highs of yesteryears as also the lows.

What at first grips my fickle attention,
are not books or photo albums stored therein
but rather thick layers of dust that cause tension
and so the trusty bookshelf welcomes my break-in,
hoping that I may learn from error of my neglect,
reforming lethargic habits and pick up a book
and by doing so, at least offer some respect,
even if it ends up as but a cursory look.

Oh worthy storehouse of knowledge,
I applaud your ability to serve with verve,
judging me not irrespective if I acknowledge
the comfort you provide, which I doubt I deserve 
for although many a friend has come and gone
your stoic presence in my life is reassuring,
to elevate my mood if I become forlorn
and so your presence is my mooring.

23-February-2023

Write an Ode Poetry Contest 
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser

The Moon Child

With cosmic moondust sprinkled in her hair,
the moon blessed his love child amongst the dunes,
As the high cosmos sang celestial tunes,
Her wisdom flared towards an asteroid,
Earthbound where oceans of wisdom are void,
Past vastness, starry streams and many moons,
with cosmic moondust

In emptiness planets and stars collide,
On Earth conflict will not let peace abide,
Each in hostile places where woes betide,
Let there be tea and Moon Child by your side,
with cosmic moondust

09/11/22

Rousing Rondine Poetry Contest

Sponsor: Jeff Kyser

Birth of Dawn

Graceful like the morning birth, sunshine smiles
lifting doubts, healing every last heartbreak
bringing light, gentling so not to forsake
hope calms the weary soul as love beguiles
silencing grief, raining hope through exiles
prayers erase all the darkest trials
Graceful like the morning….

Pretty peace pours through the lovely profiles
Leaving wonders untold - the soul’s keepsake
Reflecting notes, pleasant songs we partake
In heaven’s realm, there are striking lifestyles
Graceful like the morning….




Rousing Rondine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser 
November 8, 2022

Silent Screams

They do not hear the silent screams,
or see the dead eyes vacant stare;
It happens far away, elsewhere.
Just victims of corrupt regimes
or new planetary extremes,
self-evident, you think. I swear
they do not hear.

To me, a simple chap, it seems;
some listen to the party scare,
reality of truth foreswear,
to not upset their own sweet dreams;
they do not hear.




Rousing Rondine Poetry Contest; placed 2nd
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser  
Date written: 7th November 2022

Just Ice

Trump owns our judicial system
Appeals?  Trump just can't resist 'em!
Although he is boss
Each case is a loss
No matter how lawyers twist 'em!

added by Jeff Kyser:

A suggestion that I find a hoot 
SCOTUS owned by the bad orange brute
Chief Roberts is deft 
At swinging things left 
To the annoyance of the galoot.

I Gladly Sigh

I gladly sigh, when seasons bid me bye 
When part of me is stolen by their charm
When I find in their composure no harm
When in their shades birds and bees freely fly 
When earth, oceans and heavens seem draw nigh 
When I win fathoming their artful arm
I gladly sigh...

When buds and blossoms stand peacefully shy
When in their presence devious unarm
When no death and decay blow their alarm
When I see harmony holds its head high
I gladly sigh...


29 October 2022
Rousing Rondine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser

Jeff, I'M Back

I'm your recall demon and alas, I am back
This Halloween be wary when you hit the sack
For that night while you're dreaming
I'll have you wake up screaming
But for five bowls of Snickers, I might not attack!

H/T "Factory Recall" by Jeff Kyser
Written 10/26/22

Hopeful Hearts

Somewhere out there, there is a ray of light, 
glittering bright against the pouring rain,
that leaves a mark that ripens into stain, 
that grows brighter as it fades out of sight, 
to show the faint heart that it is but right, 
to shed one's blood to reap the precious grain, 
somewhere out there. 

The cost of fame can be the dark of night;
No fabled feat can bloom without the pain, 
or else, all endeavors may go in vain. 
The hopeful hearts must learn to hold on tight,
somewhere out there. 

October 26, 2022 

Rousing Rondine Poetry Contest (3rd place) 
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser

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