ROAST TO THE TOASTER
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
toaster, warmth you bring,
golden crusts greet morning light,
sunrise in my hand.
slots are welcoming
embrace bread with gentleness,
toasting it with ease.
each slice meets your heat,
a transformation occurs,
soft to crisp delight..
you're more than a tool,
symbol of comfort, routine,
part of daily life.
here's to you, toaster.
may your coils always glow bright,
filled with a slice white.
Written: July 24 for contest, Sponsored by: Miranda Hawley
***********
A toaster is the wise old sage of the kitchen,
Fire's bread with "Plato" steadfast position.
Chrome reflects light from the cosmos' gaze,
Like "Nietzsche" on a morning haze.
The bagel slots are so deep and vital,
A metaphor for insight that is softly incisal.
It dings!—a discovery in real life,
"Kant" just sits about and talks on strife.
Toast pops! I gathered it! Fate's browned bit,
Socrates proved late in comparison to it.
So here's to logical thinking, cut and clear,
Truth provided hot, with a sputter so dear.
The toasters on the blink.
I don't care, I'm leaving you.
I know you like your toast in the morning, but that's a bit extreme.
I've met someone new.
You never mentioned that last night when you were screaming, more, more.
That was goodbye sex.
I think I'll get a brown toaster.
You would put a brown toaster against a red background.
Hardly your concern now.
I designed this kitchen, you are not getting a brown toaster.
Think I'll change the whole decor when you leave.
That is just typical of you. You just can't wait to forget me.
I think it's for the best, cuddles. Maybe make it my man cave.
That's it, I'm dumping the other guy. I am not having you undo all my good work.
Won't he be devastated.
Who cares. Right, we're going shopping today.
Oops, turned out to be the fuse.
Right, I'm going.
Going where, cuddles.
Back to bed, do not disturb me.
Aw, I was thinking some sympathy sex, maybe get back together sex.
Do not disturb me.
Okay cuddles, I'll pop down to the tailors, get fitted out for your sister's wedding. I'm thinking bright orange,
Oh my god, stay there, I'm going with you.
1 crumpet. 2crumpet 3crumpet, 4
You no you shouldn't eat, a single crumpet more
Then there's crumpets 5, 6 then your at 7 crumpets more
Soon the 8th crumpet is also onboard
Apparently the 9th crumpet didn't appear although the truth about that is a little unclear,
By the 10th crumpet you realise that you've got a 10 crumpet problem,
But it's ok the secrets safe, because only the toaster truly knows,
And he's been warned, to keep quiet or out comes the plug and off he goes!
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
you don't butt
er up before
putting
a slice
of bread
in the slot
you do that
after the
some
thing
pops
up
albino
bread
catches
tanning
rays
gentle
warmth
embraces
hot
hotter
besieging
heat
smoke
pollutes
kitchen
air
vitality
incinerated
no
bread
only
char
A toaster can be shocking
and it just might take your life.
You might someday poke yourself
with spoon or fork or knife.
Tripping on a stairway,
could also end your days,
to count the chance to leave this world,
there are so many ways.
But worry not the little things
or what your mind pretends;
the first thing on your mind all day,
should not be how it ends.
One should never put socks in the toaster
The smoke will billow out and be quite a choker
And the smell... ouweee
Stinky poo... you'll see
Save yourself, run outside and suck in fresh air-ster
Ever since my early days of youth
I've been questioning
All the hidden secrets of life
And exactly what it means
So imagine my excitement
When I climbed the mountain top
And asked the man of wisdom
Just what it is he thought
Where he said...
Life is like a toaster
With people dropping in and popping out
Some may stay in the heat of life for too long
And find themselves burned out
Life is like a toaster
If you're kept down long enough
The heat that's applied to your outsides
Only strengthens your inner crust
Life is like a toaster
Some people are shiny on the outside
But lift them up and what you see
Are the crumbs they leave behind
After all these years of searching
I climbed high enough to learn the truth
With the meaning of life now by my side
I knew just what I had to do
I went straight back home to my people
The ones that I could help the most
I started at the local breakfast diner
Where I ordered up some toast
Today is Edgar’s birthday
And the third year in a row
That the famous caped “Poe Toaster”
Has decided not to show.
From 1949 for sure,
And maybe years preceding,
The Toaster visited Poe’s grave,
And not to do some weeding.
With wide-brimmed hat and scarf and cape
To keep his ID hidden,
He’d sneak right up to Edgar’s tomb,
A visit most forbidden.
He used a cane with silver tip
To navigate the ground;
And in the morning, at the site,
The following was found:
A Martell cognac bottle
With its contents halfway filled
And a trio of red roses,
Which helped make the legend build.
In 1998, a note
Explained the torch was passed;
A Toaster “son” would be the one
To hold tradition fast.
On Poe’s 200th birthday, though,
The year 2010,
The Toaster missed his calling
And has not been seen again.
The ritual’s become, alas,
A faded bit of history;
But Edgar Allan Poe fans love
Its enigmatic mystery.
Toaster Bed
I’d like to buy a toaster bed,
of the boldest red.
Happily,
it would heat me up toasty hot
and butter my backside,
before projecting me out
of the bed and into the shower,
at a designated hour
each morning.
Where shall I place my order?
Bloomingdale’s
Or Neiman’s?
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