Long Toasty Poems
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Another year has come - chillingly -
and more chillingly for me than in decades heretofore.
I watch it ranting from my window as I recall. . . .
The year already past had tugged me from those tame and toasty days
when I lay face up to sun
dreaming that my summer would never end.
It brought me to this winter when it withered up and died,
but half a century and more of memories
had fallen for me by now.
Like pretty crystal flakes they fell, drifting through my mind -
places, events and people.
Oh, those people I looked up to in my youth -
fallen as the snow!
How many pretty snow flakes have melted now away?
Only my memories of them remain. . .
memories now piled up like snowdrifts in my brain.
Yes, the newborn year has arrived.
Just one month old and already, it has lost its crawl.
This infant’s aging process parallels, on the larger scale,
that fleeting span of time known as life -
a time that all the living undergo.
The new year carries on (as must we all) to soon complete its cycle.
Let it bluster. Let it wail. Let it rattle at my door,
for soon enough, all signs of it will cease.
Written 2/12/11
Now used for 'A STRAND (1061)' Poetry Contest
Heaven sent famed foodie pearl named after a chap from Kent
Treat with street cred neat feat stuff spread betwixt slice of bread
Hell bent that sarnie blarney intent as naans bent unfurl rotis curl
Tastebuds tamed twirl senses swirl a shame came from an Earl
If spice thrills are your vice or instead perhaps fills you with dread
Across the map.. bam.. bao..bahn mi or a bap.. cash well spent
Gutter scam peanut butter and jam glut just an instagram sham
Tut..cram full of ham..croque monsieur or more glam his madame
Or unctuous wheeze of the rambunctious tease of the Portuguese
Place booked am already hooked on a cheese toasty pan cooked
Slutty don’t give a damn.. a smutty chip butty lovely calorie slam
Wham bam decadent event prevent Hawaiian trying frying spam
Not being hasty Reubens are as tasty as cigars from the Cubans
Top grub can’t snub or choose a sub over jurassic classic the Club
Bocadillo peccadillo maybe tyro with gyro bambino with baby panino
Bespoked umami army of smoked salmon bagels or rye & pastrami
Shawarma true performer why magic number is 3 top of the tree BLT
Warren Zevon when terminal tumour did linger even had seminal humour
No rumour since a boy no glitch the singer was a finger food consumer
This baby boomer’s final pitch said without a hitch what made life rich
Not being a snitch Warren a quote hatched as knew couldn’t be matched
What did bewitch scratched that itch you can’t ditch because life’s a b*tch
The highlight another delight just dispatched so must “Enjoy Every Sandwich”
Twig twists intersect then spread victory
Receptors sprout cat waving paws
Fold fruit bowl foliage, branch tributary
Lump eye timber columns support
Steer me clear of thatch caged cluster
Cheerleader twirling ribbons sizzle
Shifted to soft focus forest, fairy dusted
In drifting dandelion seed celestial
Thrown down overlap of toasty tobacco
Crinkle constant joke cracked faces
Humour grants razor slim grasses tackle
Unused nests during seasons' phases
Basket interweave splice strap sun poke
Probes timid shade a radiating halo
Lathered limbs in blossom shampoo soak
Crown me neath ghostly citrine glow
Sombre trots towards her restful rotunda
Floating pollen fluff Snugglepot ego
Fingers spring flags of woodland wonder
Grip ant gazette trail to safe gazebo
6th March
Exists in the middle
Winter Love
Speedily over the moonlight snows
I go to my lady’s own home:
Hasty my sleigh as lightening goes,
It shall not stop until morning.
Bright my steed, the morning star
Illuminates us from yonder pretty sky,
To bring us together, brighter distant,
Morning shall bring my lady’s eyes.
Lovers, tranquil in sunny rooms
Resting away their thoughts of time,
Not knowing a bit the delight that’s ours
In this snowy climate.
Just as far off star which shimmers livelier
From the nearby cold heavens,
Love smiles keener when crowned
With snows of shyness.
Then, how bright my lady’s eyes gleam
When she sees me happily approaching her,
My coat very snug, and my feet so toasty warm,
In my boots.
Wintertime
A seasonal shift most wished-for
Wind chill factor drops below zero
Flakes begin to plunge over icy lakes’
Snowbirds angered by the blizzard,
Frostbitten icicles dangle from the leafless trees
Gold and silver jingle bells glide in the wintry snow
Slushy snow powdery the slippery roads
Hot cocoa heat beloved shivering bodies
The smell of spiced pumpkin pies in the atmosphere
Hair damp from the northern wet cold
Kids playing and forming snowballs
Depression froze away among the sleet rain
Swallow tears dissipate along gusty snow flurries
Shades use for the drifts of snow in the footpath,
Foggy mornings; pure white nights-burr
Snowed in mornings aside the toasty fireplace,
Blissful ice-kisses gracefully unending
Wintertime an occasion whereas, affection submounts
On the stars, glittering
Flippant, playing
Like a robin or a wren – tempting
Summer’s dusk to trembling,
Soothing away each glimmer of the past,
Where hearts will last, forever last.
In the heart, soft tears
Flowing, liquid thoughts melting
Doubts, remembering twilight
Blushing dreams, silent as a moment
Healing the distant azure, heaven, the wistful
Reflecting in the night,
All across the twinkling skies.
Bringing moments, embracing
Toasty soft mirrors,
Shimmering with peace,
Melancholic brings the best calm,
Sweeter than a lingering fire,
Warming the soul,
Kissing away dew, trickling gracefully
Over a tender petal, a rose’s consuming,
Steady as the music, blending,
Tones, quivering tones.
In the moments, just before dawn
As the stars begin to flicker out, like a fading bulb,
Who has lost most of its energy,
Almost dancing to the unsteady gaze,
Refusing to be buried
In the yesterdays, sweet yesterdays
Where stars were wished upon,
Then, on a slow night – drifted beyond
The edge of the moon, a shadow,
Silhouette like, wavering –
Caressing the skies with shapes,
Destined to meet the morning with grace,
Like the faded night who becomes just gray,
Steely and waning, dying to be sought.
Finally, when all is said and done,
Wonders hesitate,
Imitating the seas, the winds – a storm,
Thundering beneath the moon,
On the horizon, hopeful – lasting and brief,
Like an ache who can never know…
About the grief it has caused, the slow grief,
Broken on the heart who shows…
Only the weeping, a tear – dewlike
And destined for the colors of the rainbow.
Take away my static hair,
My thick, wool toque, my glassy eyes.
Take away the chilly air,
The endless clouds, the covered skies.
Give me back my sun-streaked hair,
My floppy hat, my shaded eyes.
Give me back the sea-salt air,
The fluffy clouds, the crystal skies.
Take away my dull, dry skin,
My soggy mitts, my booted feet.
Take away the frosty wind,
The icy paths, the slushy streets.
Give me back my sun-tanned skin,
My denim shorts, my flip-flop feet.
Give me back the toasty wind,
The sparkling dunes, the sandy streets.
Take away harsh Winter's sting,
His gales of hail, his banks of snow.
Give me back my darling Spring,
Her rising sun, her lovely glow.
there’s something so endearing
about a late fall sun
so mellow so sultry
a warm toasty glow that lingers
and penetrates your skin
reaching through to the bone
your body craving it
moments so rare
you want to treasure
and stretch out
knowing how few and precious
those last rays really are
before the clouds and snow
winter will be long
and the cold disheartening
so soak up the energy...
of that october sun
let it kiss your cheeks
slowly utter its last goodbyes
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~BYGONE DAYS OF SUMMER~ 2020
AP: 2nd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on June 14, 2020 for contest BRIAN'S SELECT H sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
Tropical storms are here, and the hurricane season has just begun Mother nature is talking, and is sure to be heard before she's done
In the coastal south, it's very stormy and mighty wet In Sacramento, it's steamy sweaty and not even July yet
It's roasty toasty and fiery hot throughout the west Perhaps this summer the old records will be put to rest
Neither my tomatoes nor my peaches have turned red I know they are fighting hard to keep from going dead
The streets are quiet and the pavement is frying The insects are hidden, and perhaps they are crying
I'm grateful my air conditioner is complaining none Our best friend these days is the faithful SETTING sun
06212017PSContest, Summer Soltice, Brain Strand
Icebergs floated all around me –
frozen is no place to safely flee.
I fell down on an ice crystal,
then I heard you whistle
and felt myself turn towards bold
so I could leave this place so cold.
So many crevices and cracks.
Frigid ice coated my back.
A glacier's huge backhand
flew my memories to slush land.
As my shivers began to shake,
I felt my knees tremble and quake.
Love never knows its hold on tomorrow.
Days are not warm braced against sorrow.
Your repeat, sleety emotion
will not ease glacial commotion.
Frozen mist cannot reinstall
a flaming, toasty love recall.
I bear your gifts so numb fraught
they will ever stay iceberg caught.