Toasty poems

We played with some simple poetry forms and came up with these poems:

 

Toast

Hard

Black

Burnt

Number 6 on the dial.

 

Toast

Hot

Golden

Perfect

Leaping from the toaster.

 

 

The toaster is a furnace

Shining silver

Glowing red

Making bread brown.

Dad’s Ford Falcon XL

img_09901By Keegan

 

From the 1960’s old but restored,

my dad’s car is as shiny as a diamond,

green like a mint with a vanilla top.

Leather seats as comfortable as a soft bench.

Back seats belts protest,

like a five year old kid when moved.

Dad cares for it like a son,

drives it as carefully as an operating surgeon,

but without a care in the world,

like a flying bird.