"toasty" poems
You are my
December because you seem to
emanate a golden glow,
quite like of parols swinging from tall streetlamps
December in how you
brush through my hair like a cool, gentle breeze
brought by the northeast wind of
clear blue skies and fair weather.
December also in the way you
wrap your arms around me
tightly, it
reminds me of my favorite warm, woolly sweater that
my dear grandma knitted for me.
You are my
December in how you
light up my eyes like
the Christmas lights that twinkle on the Christmas tree
No, actually, more like the
fireworks that set fire to
the midnight sky on New Year's Eve
December because
you are a great gift
like the secret surprises tucked under the Christmas tree
you are a sweet treat
like a gingerbread coated with colorful sugar,
freshly baked and toasty
you refresh me
like the much needed break that lasts for two weeks
You are my
December because
you leave me melting
like the mini mallows sprinkled
on my hot choco steaming
You are my
December because
I love December
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 2:34 AM UTC
Ye who enter here, beware
Of wolves and mine shaft pits, take care
Or ye shall taste the bitter death
That comes upon the creeper's breath
Thy survival, on the good
Of other players rests
Upon thy house a naming sign
Each person must *****
And when night falls, take care that ye
Who stalk the halls at dark
Set up a light for ev'ry turn
A stick lit with a spark
A bone to catch a wolfie with
Some cookies fresh to eat
And in a furnace, toasty warm,
We have to roast our meat
To mine the caves and tunnels deep
To delve into the mountains
And when the water gushes forth
We then create the fountains
Sell your wares, o Cobbler man
I've melons many to spare;
An axe, a sword, a shovel stone
Oh? You like my hair?
Here we go, see yon moon rise
The world in the starry twilight
I have not seen the whole world yet
Would you take me there by starlight?
Unspoken fear; the creeper hiss
Blew up my trusty door
And now all manner of verminous things
Have crawled across the floor
If only I had a wolf to my name
Three bones to win his love;
Then he could save me from--I shudder--
The Enderman above.
No armor have I, nor sword of iron
Stone and wood are mine
The wooden stairs that lead up high
Tell me, who had all this time?
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
hot white sun
toasty warm sand
seas that smile at the night sky
icy strawberry lemonade
liquor and bbq
ripe peaches and pineapples
ahhhhh...the perfect setting
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
Nearly home.
The bed
And the slippers grow ever closer.
A memory of things that give comfort seem palatial,
Euphoric in the mind's eye,
Though I do seem to ponder of its romanticized reality
Memories always seem so warm.
In reality,
The things that hold others close are affirming.
Love,
Shared events
Symbiotic empathy,
But given the current state...
The boring,
The mundane,
The trivial and the tedious that makes the most of a lifetime
Are omitted from the mind.
But why not have a memory full of nothing but the nothingness of life?
The train rides?
Waiting for the toaster to splay its insides
So I can feast on its wonderful toasty goodness?
Talking to the tenant who does not understand
That a bouncing leg
And constant time updates are signposts to **** off?
Empty the files of my brain
And fill it with the moments of nothing.
These moments and these alone
Are your true self.
if you are a good person
Is not determined by
How many charities earn your pay
Or how many items stored,
What you are is chosen by the lonely,
The solitary,
The Tigress.
Only when you accept that person,
You are happy
And free.
But don't hold your breath.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
Warmth
What a great feeling.
The same sensation of those sweet orange rays of the sun.
When the sun rises is brings warmth to all its searching beams touch.
Warmth is the subtle heat from a campfire.
When you and friends are roasting mallows.
Warmth is not only physical
Is it also emotional
Warmth is when somebody is kind to you.
Like giving you a hug on a bad day.
Warmth may come from a significant other.
Maybe when they hold your hand
Maybe when they say the three magic words "I love you."
Warmth is also when you do the same kindness for others.
Not only will you be the warmth in someone else life.
You might add a little sunshine to yours as well in return.
This warmth physical and mental keeps us toasty
in this otherwise bleak and cold world.
May your day be full of sunshine and happiness.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
I set my cruise on the highway and
am passed by a red AMC Eagle.
This red rusty AMC Eagle has a
wind shied covered in frost because,
I'm guessing, the defrost motor burned
up in a bakelite mushroom cloud from the
dashboard.
It is held together with duct tape
and grit. The pilot sits behind his cardboard
console ludicrously warm in winter parka,
scarf,
hat
and gloves.
I pass him waving dressed
in my tshirt and shorts.
Driving in my new, awesomely
economical car.
Four dashboard vents dump lava warm air
to keep me pleasingly toasty.
The pilot will never understand that I wave
not at his expense, but in envy. The billboard
on my right says it all,
If I have to explain you wouldn't understand.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
4am
Knows everything
4am has seen me naked
Crying alone
Maybe once on someone’s shoulder
4am
Has seen me dancing, happy mind wrapped in intoxication
In the cold light of morning
We are the most honest beasts
Before the day is calling
Faces are grey, soul is clear.
4am
You sleep through it
Bed toasty warm
Whose body is it with you
Dreaming with you through storm?
4am
Got me an A in history
4am
Showed me the most beautiful sunrises
Pushed me into Morpheus arms
At 4am
There are no disguises.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 1:20 PM UTC
I gave myself to you,
surrendered to desire.
What I thought was toasty warm
turned out to be a fire.
You built me up
with words of how
lovely I could be.
All I had to do was
promise to never leave.
You ripped apart my confidence,
stripped me to the bare.
Pulled at my fringing seams
until nothing was left there.
You fed me lies of love,
kissed me with your
sugar coated lips.
You made me unhealthy,
your sugar made me sick.
By the time I tasted love,
you had fled away.
I should have known
you would never last.
Sugar has a habit
of making things
decay.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
Cottony smoke curled under my nails, on hands too clean, clearly, for the task that would send them one day to bones. Perhaps without the cinders and ash burning peacefully away at the underside of my tongue, I’d find the strength to understand. Though in the darkness, one little gnat of color was a world of fascination. My mind withered in the fire and ignited in that small, red-black glow, wrapping into its strings. Wishing I could burn away too, and burn away everything.
It is no wonder, that….
Being toasty in frosty air, unable to feel my toes, and quite unable to care.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
Two of my Zen friends
who, at the time,
I thought were some kind
of Zen enemies,
seemed to condemn me
to a soap opera
of eternal cookies
and the sound of lawnmowers,
and it took me
forty-some years
to understand this koan,
and the suburban heaven
that I was condemned to,
where instead of a life
in the forest
with snakes and mosquitos,
or a life in the city
with rats and roaches,
I was given
a life in this quiet, rich suburb
with an air-conditioned summer
and a toasty warm winter,
so that surrealistic understanding
of cookie and lawnmower hell,
turned into everyday Nirvana.
Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 2:11 AM UTC
Merry Christmas Eve.
Merry Christmas Eve.
If I said holiday cheers one more time
it'd become redundant,
but to each of you
that chance upon this--
know that if I could
I would wish you a thousand splendid
Christmas Eves.
I would become the chain
children make in school
counting down the days till Christmas.
I'd become the warm smiles
with hands holding
even warmer coco
to keep you toasty; tis the season.
I'd bring fresh pine scent
and logs for the fire,
these will be here
to bring the aura of the holidays to your home.
I may not be a rich man,
more near to those you see
pitching for spare change;
this would never stop me
from finding you a gift to cherish.
I would give you all the time
you ever wanted and needed,
because I know that around the holidays
we all need a little bit more care.
Merry Christmas Eve.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC
In the Presidential Palace, the steaks are served up seared.
There’s an excellent wine cellar for meals expertly prepared.
The Palace is cool in summer; in winter it's toasty warm,
And Maduro and his spouse are always safe and free from harm.
In the streets of Venezuela there is anger and despair.
Inflation is the problem but why should Maduro care.
The store shelves are nearly empty; most people live in fear
There is ****** done in daylight and the sense that chaos nears.
This was once a beautiful, Prosperous land, the envy of the South.
Then a populist Socialist came to drive investors out.
Now a nation, resource rich, has been importing oil,
a nation whose own oil reserves are the greatest in the world.
His critics?- dead or imprisoned; the media is controlled
There’s no term limits on his rule. Voters do as they are told.
Demonstrators, even peaceful, can be shot down in the street
While Maduro sips his wine and decides what next he’ll have to eat.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
Soft, knit sweaters
And piping-hot tea
Make for very toasty weathers
And cozy times for me.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
Oatcakes make great bikinis they're all the rage back home.
You can rap up your eggs and bacon; fill them with sausage and beans.
They're baked on a griddle or backstone; made from oats, flour and yeast.
You can wear them like potters bikinis or munch on a toasty cheese feast!
•
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
The candles are new and burn brightly,
Set on the windowsill high above my head.
Gingerbread is fresh, and the taste
Lingers in the warm, toasty air.
Cousin Kyle lifts me so I can hang my annual ornament,
And Great-Grandma smiles from her armchair.
The candles are a little shorter but still burn with fervor,
My fingertips just reach the windowsill.
The gingerbread is just as good as last year,
And the smell permeates my pink sweater.
Cousin Kyle lifts me to the top of the tree,
And Great-Grandma smiles from her armchair.
The candles are burning determinedly and pushing their last
And I playfully plaster their wax over my gradually growing fingers.
I help make the gingerbread,
And am covered in flour the rest of the evening.
Cousin Kyle and his girlfriend help me hang my ornaments,
And Great-Grandma smiles from her armchair.
The candles are almost nonexistent now,
And I light them for my mother.
I accidentally burn the gingerbread,
And the smoke infiltrates the whole house.
Cousin Kyle doesn’t want to help hang my ornaments,
And Great-Grandma sighs from her chair.
The electric candles blink in the window,
And I replace their bulbs with care.
The gingerbread doesn’t taste as good as it did when I was little,
But it brings back a heavy wave of warm nostalgia.
Cousin Kyle is off in Afghanistan,
And Great-Grandma sleeps in her chair.
The magic of Christmas never fades.
Sometimes it’s just buried deep in a box of ornaments
Or sitting in a quilted armchair
Waiting for that little girl
To remember.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
The white sands of Mozambique
We should go there - you and I
It doesn't have the answers that I seek
But maybe just enough to get me by
The red dunes of the Namib
Reflecting orange and yellow too
It's more lovely that you would believe
Let's be sure not to leave too soon
Here in the Moroccan city streets
They're offering me a minty tea
It goes well with sweet and toasty treats
We should stay here for a few weeks
In a while, we'll trek to Malawi
Kayak on a lake or open sea
See what animals wait over by the trees
This has been a trip that surely can't be beat
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
I'm a humble piece of bread
Searching for your toasty arms.
When I find you, as I wait
Keep me safe, happy and warm.
Don't burn me to a thin crisp
Don't neglect me to be cold
Savour the balance of the two
As I love you till we're old.
I'll return the favour all day
As you transform to a slice
And I become your oven
In our own quaint paradise.
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
**Chillin like a villian
listenin to dylan
writin and thrillin,
as long as the good lord's willin**
*Sweatpants & a ponytail,
chillin with no make up on.
Cos' it's like my hobby now*
**Camo sleep pants
led zep tee
drinkin cold ones
and groovin to youtube**
*Watching scream queens
on netflix.
Texting & trying to figure out
what's next*
**Keying thoughts
onto my notebook
thinking hard about
a late night snack**
*Chillin like a penguin
cos' its freezing cold.
Wishing I had some hot coco.
Trying stay up late.*
**Toasty warm
inside my room
to step out for a smoke
would seal my chill**
*Chillin' is amazing.
I got the chills,
feeling like a cold hell
Wolf Spirit Poet is amazing*
**Chillin, blazin
mind **** amazin
oh these nights
dreamin and lazin**
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
Rocket red robots and tincan screws
Light up the night with sparks,
Which I love.
The workers work and the sleepers,
They sleep forever.
Making rye for the breadwinners,
Making toasty socks for the children,
Making copper caps and wee brass booties,
But won't let them take a wee stroll,
Not in contrary Mary's garden.
The kettleheads squeal and the bronze bucket chests,
They hum with drums in their stomachs,
Candygloss paint trickles onto
The sprockets below with their sharp teeth,
Teeth that creep over the outmodes and candy red.
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 1:06 PM UTC
She's angry boys
looks like we're burning fast
"lighter noise"
There goes Larry
he was always toasty
and with that drink,
I think it's a beautiful death
Here we go
into the purse
I wonder, where she'd forget us this time
or if we'll soak up her drunken
thoughts
It's 5 am, have some mercy on your lungs!
Oh, I am the last one
struggling to stand up straight
in that crumpled pack
half awake, half dead,
swinging between sleeplessness
and drunkenness
I welcome my fate
I want to dilute in her breath
I want to kiss her with sunrise
I wish I my nicotine would mend her thoughts
I wish my filter, would cleanse
that stress
I want her to exhale cremated
bits and pieces of me
with the crisp breeze of dawn
Alas, I am burning
along with her awareness
along with her energy
she kisses me
one last time
I burn
I burned
along with
her night
Oh,
I burned
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 6:36 AM UTC
"Hm", the girl says in your bed.
Red wine and yummy chocolate - what a great mix
Moving and grooving to the beat of the music
Oh, la la.
A pleasant smell in the air, flowing, in and out into me
Colors of your blankets, subtle navy blue, velvet red (you might disagree)
Reeses, what a treat! Something devils would eat
Talking food, one of my pleasures, Ethopian - I want to eat!
Let me speak for Ravenswood, it treats me well and keeps
me toasty!
And Juanita's, Fiesta bag, crispy not too greasy
Crunchy in my mouth, mmm!
An offering of a chip with special sauce, thank you sir!'
Sauce man, confidence
He says he had heart problems
The consequences of the pleasures of food
"I need to end it but I don't know how to"
"It'll come to you"
Your roommate,
Sid
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
I set my cruise on the highway and
am passed by a red AMC Eagle.
This red rusty AMC Eagle has a
wind shied covered in frost because,
I'm guessing, the defrost motor burned
up in a bakelite mushroom cloud from the
dashboard.
It is held together with duct tape
and grit. The pilot sits behind his cardboard
console ludicrously warm in winter parka,
scarf,
hat
and gloves.
I pass him waving dressed
in my tshirt and shorts.
Driving in my new, awesomely
economical car.
Four dashboard vents dump lava warm air
to keep me pleasingly toasty.
The pilot will never understand that I wave
not at his expense, but in envy. The billboard
on my right says it all,
If I have to explain you wouldn't understand.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
i stepped on toasty autumn leaves
following shadows of honey bees
while test tubes filled up with rain
i counted the miles between us again
you washed your hair in peanut butter blues
licked raspberry jelly off the top of my shoes
laughin your way up until
i drank the breeze through the window sill
i did all i wished with our time
in bed and out of line
our story began in a sunday dream
while i did my laundry
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 9:33 PM UTC