A thing to heat stuff make it hot to bake conventional heater hot warm air
Anonymous
hot steaming food all kinds all sizes of these wonderful warming devices hot cookies chocolate chips melting yum
NWartist
Ovens are for killing, or were. A hot oven means food, life. Bake something in the oven. It usually tastes so good, and is something very yummy. Something in the oven. Life, death, round and round it goes.
jobo
the heat radiates from the appliance
i pad the doors and windows and make sure there’s no possibility of air
as i stick my head in
and finally everything i’ve ever dreamed of
is happening
as my vision goes fuzzy, i can only find peace
no regrets, no worries
no one pulls me out
and i slip under
sylvia plath
The are an amazing invention. I love cooking food with it. I like the quickness of a microwave, but the food never tastes the same and isn’t ever cooked right. unless you over cook your food, the oven always makes it taste so much better than a microwave.
in the time it takes an ipod to charge the roast will be ready and the party will be near. i’ve got the oven light on to watch from my desk.
becca Loo
i love to though living in a house with less than adequite food supply i dont allways get to bang out what i want
henry
Oven. The oven, there, that’s where the fire was. Burning brightly and smelling of cookies, cake and sugar. Childhood things, sweets baked by mother and grandmother on winter evenings. Then, of course, the oven grew cold as grandmother and mother faded away and now I sit, my own family who I once baked for in that oven gone, and the smell of sugar is all that lingers.
Lunatic
It was blessedly warm, the ambient glow lighting my face in the wintry room. As I waited for my brother to come home, the bread slowly turned a golden brown. There were few things more relaxing than watching the bread bake in our oven.
rosi_doll
The oven was wet and warm like a vagina, yet there was no baby inside, to my mild disappointment. Instead, there was only a cake
Matt Lurie
Ovens are big and I’m thinking about green right now. Um um um well, ovens are hot and deep and frightening. I wouldn’t like to be baked, particularly. I would like to remain uncooked, thanks all the same.
Sonya
“The last thing we need is a new oven,” She said. As though the last one hadn’t only just blown the entire kitchen to shreds. She was, what you’d call “Optemistic to a fault.”
Then again, how much fault could it have been? Less than a week later, she had that thing up and running, though there was no food to cook, no kitchen to cook in, no pots, no pans….
Leah T.
I have an oven…i call it my retro oven. It’s dark rust colored and gross. I don’t really like it, though everyone else who visits does. They say its cool. It’s also a gas oven, which is supposedly better than electric. I can’t say that I know the difference. I’ve only ever had gas ovens.
Angela
hot i cook things in it. Burns, steel, black. Dark heart. heat from the bottom the hell in my kitchen. Open the door and put it in. Slide is slow.
Anonymous
The sweet, human smell drifted upstairs. Min twitched from his position on the bed, sniffing curiously. Who was baking? He trailed down the stairs still half tired, to see a familar back next to the oven.
Chloe turned around and smiled.
“Brownies?”
Seth
there’s certain parts of the day where it seems like putting my head in an oven might be a great idea, if it’s a gas oven of course, and i don’t hit the pilot light, because of course that would be hot and uncomfortable and i’m not about to suffle off this mortal coil in pain.
hopey
The pain in his head resfused to abate. No matter what drugs he pumped into his system the reminder was always there.
Beads of sweat rolled off his head, into his eyes and down his chest. The world was like an oven and he still had work to do.
The body would never fit into the hole at this rate.
Sir
Oven, your trochaic tendencies make me feel hot and bothered. You’re so different from that old way of writing.
Katy
Oven’s cook my food. Today I had eggroles, which I cooked in the oven. I had a half a day of school today. I feel like my school never has full days, which is fine with me. Half days are just ways for teachers to avoid making lesson plans.
kiki
i used oven with anything cuz it made me so warm!!! ahhhhhhhh!!!! its feel so good!!! goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood!!!!!!!!!!!!!ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhh, yessssssssssss!!!!!!!! keep it up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! keep up!!!!!!!!!!
heather t
i used oven with anything cuz it made me so warm!!! ahhhhhhhh!!!! its feel so good!!! goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood!!!!!!!!!!!!!ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhh, yessssssssssss!!!!!!!! keep it up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! keep up!!!!!!!!!!
heather t
ovens, oh fucking ovens, useful for many things, baking, melting, even suicides and suicide attempts..virgin suicides comes to mind.. how did this go from ovens to suicides…gotta be more optimistic maybe?
Frances
I burn things alot especially when cooking in the oven. But not when baking. I’m good at that and getting better. One day I want to open a bakery and be like those wise old woman that people come to after a long confusing day. But first I have to go through my own long confusing days.
steph
i dont know talking about it but i am thinking about it right now. umm…… i guess blah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is suck now. well… bye!!!!
tsosie
one time i put my cake in the oven. by the time it was done, it had turned into a small child. Don’t ask how…..but it did.
Anonymous
She put the pie into the oven. it was warm and moist inside, just like the inside of her thighs on a hot summer day- today, really, which was why she was baking completely naked. It was fun. Raspberry and pies and rhubarb and cream cheese, and being naked in the summer with the windows all open, high on the fiftieth floor of a tall building where no-one could see her but the pigeons. it was baking in here. She knew that. She also knew that the window-cleaners were due soon.
Val
i made some bread and put it in the oven and it baked and it was amazing and iate it and it was delicious. the end.
Mackenzie Mullis
In the oven I bake the bread I love to eat before I die each day beneath the shafts of sunlight where I can see the dust I’ll soon dissolve to like all the men before me who bore me and brought me here to relinquish their greatest gift in the name of principle and love, but love in the opposite direction.
sbliefnick@gmail.com
who was that one really messed up lady poet who stuck herself in an oven and burned to death? that’s pretty creative, albeit.. um.. stupid?
griffin.
i had something in the oven. it was burning. i think. i don’t remember. did i put something in the oven? how did it get there? it’s there now. and it’s too late because it’s burning. i don’t seem to care though.
Anonymous
She was scrubbing. And scrubbing. And scrubbing. Scrub some then rinse the sponge out and scrub some more. Grease built up on the sponge and floated on top the water. She hated cleaning the oven.
Elizabeth
Reminds me of brownies on a cold winter day…
The joy begins when you empt the batter out of the box, add an egg, 1/3 cup vegetable oil, and 1/4 cup water. Mix it all together, add the fudge packet and chocolate chips. Put it in a greased pan, get the air bubbles out. Bake at 375 and you’re done and delicious.
LOVE OVENS!
Ben G.
There’s a bun in my oven. Okay, maybe there isn’t one, but for a second I thought maybe in-fact I was pregnant with Stephan’s child.
But what in the world would I do with a fetus who’s father lived in Barbados? Would I carry his child and live a wonderfully impoverished pheasant life in the Caribbean?
Story #1–To be continued…
Mennlau
food birthed from the abyss, a belching excess spewing forth from a soot crusted pizza melded with steel, tin, whatever.. awesome cheap efficiency, but gross.. 400 degrees to
trashgoblin
ovens suck because when you lock them at my apartment they wont unlock and this one time my friend tried to open the oven lock by taking off the top while something is cooking and he electrocuted himself and it was hilarious and i thought he almost died. lols
kwinn
something in it is baking and getting brown and gooey. momma don’t want little fingers fudging around with it, neither. howzabout a game of horseshoes? hmmm. this is a little boring. when is the timer gonna let me stop? looks like it’s ready
marshall
It was my grandma’s oven. It was always more superior than mine. Must have been because her husband, my grandfather, made a lot of moolah. No matter. What was of most interest to me was the oven mitts she used. They looked like giant crustacean claws. I loved them so much, my grandmother put them away. Why?
Nick
The oven is on.It is really hot. The muffins are baking within. Popping, burning, smelling. The alarm goes off. blig blig blig. The kitchen starts to smell. Thick black smoke penetrates through the home.
Quick, open a window.
Too late, the smell is within,
I want a muffin.
A thing to heat stuff make it hot to bake conventional heater hot warm air
hot steaming food all kinds all sizes of these wonderful warming devices hot cookies chocolate chips melting yum
Ovens are for killing, or were. A hot oven means food, life. Bake something in the oven. It usually tastes so good, and is something very yummy. Something in the oven. Life, death, round and round it goes.
the heat radiates from the appliance
i pad the doors and windows and make sure there’s no possibility of air
as i stick my head in
and finally everything i’ve ever dreamed of
is happening
as my vision goes fuzzy, i can only find peace
no regrets, no worries
no one pulls me out
and i slip under
The are an amazing invention. I love cooking food with it. I like the quickness of a microwave, but the food never tastes the same and isn’t ever cooked right. unless you over cook your food, the oven always makes it taste so much better than a microwave.
cooking. food. hot. burning. brownies. chocolate. Chicken. door. dish. momma. Kitchen. home. winter. christmas. thanksgiving. rare. stove. burners. fire. cavemen. technol
MIne is dirty.
in the time it takes an ipod to charge the roast will be ready and the party will be near. i’ve got the oven light on to watch from my desk.
i love to though living in a house with less than adequite food supply i dont allways get to bang out what i want
Oven. The oven, there, that’s where the fire was. Burning brightly and smelling of cookies, cake and sugar. Childhood things, sweets baked by mother and grandmother on winter evenings. Then, of course, the oven grew cold as grandmother and mother faded away and now I sit, my own family who I once baked for in that oven gone, and the smell of sugar is all that lingers.
It was blessedly warm, the ambient glow lighting my face in the wintry room. As I waited for my brother to come home, the bread slowly turned a golden brown. There were few things more relaxing than watching the bread bake in our oven.
The oven was wet and warm like a vagina, yet there was no baby inside, to my mild disappointment. Instead, there was only a cake
Ovens are big and I’m thinking about green right now. Um um um well, ovens are hot and deep and frightening. I wouldn’t like to be baked, particularly. I would like to remain uncooked, thanks all the same.
“The last thing we need is a new oven,” She said. As though the last one hadn’t only just blown the entire kitchen to shreds. She was, what you’d call “Optemistic to a fault.”
Then again, how much fault could it have been? Less than a week later, she had that thing up and running, though there was no food to cook, no kitchen to cook in, no pots, no pans….
I have an oven…i call it my retro oven. It’s dark rust colored and gross. I don’t really like it, though everyone else who visits does. They say its cool. It’s also a gas oven, which is supposedly better than electric. I can’t say that I know the difference. I’ve only ever had gas ovens.
hot i cook things in it. Burns, steel, black. Dark heart. heat from the bottom the hell in my kitchen. Open the door and put it in. Slide is slow.
The sweet, human smell drifted upstairs. Min twitched from his position on the bed, sniffing curiously. Who was baking? He trailed down the stairs still half tired, to see a familar back next to the oven.
Chloe turned around and smiled.
“Brownies?”
there’s certain parts of the day where it seems like putting my head in an oven might be a great idea, if it’s a gas oven of course, and i don’t hit the pilot light, because of course that would be hot and uncomfortable and i’m not about to suffle off this mortal coil in pain.
The pain in his head resfused to abate. No matter what drugs he pumped into his system the reminder was always there.
Beads of sweat rolled off his head, into his eyes and down his chest. The world was like an oven and he still had work to do.
The body would never fit into the hole at this rate.
Oven, your trochaic tendencies make me feel hot and bothered. You’re so different from that old way of writing.
Oven’s cook my food. Today I had eggroles, which I cooked in the oven. I had a half a day of school today. I feel like my school never has full days, which is fine with me. Half days are just ways for teachers to avoid making lesson plans.
i used oven with anything cuz it made me so warm!!! ahhhhhhhh!!!! its feel so good!!! goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood!!!!!!!!!!!!!ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhh, yessssssssssss!!!!!!!! keep it up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! keep up!!!!!!!!!!
i used oven with anything cuz it made me so warm!!! ahhhhhhhh!!!! its feel so good!!! goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood!!!!!!!!!!!!!ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhh, yessssssssssss!!!!!!!! keep it up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! keep up!!!!!!!!!!
ovens, oh fucking ovens, useful for many things, baking, melting, even suicides and suicide attempts..virgin suicides comes to mind.. how did this go from ovens to suicides…gotta be more optimistic maybe?
I burn things alot especially when cooking in the oven. But not when baking. I’m good at that and getting better. One day I want to open a bakery and be like those wise old woman that people come to after a long confusing day. But first I have to go through my own long confusing days.
i dont know talking about it but i am thinking about it right now. umm…… i guess blah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is suck now. well… bye!!!!
one time i put my cake in the oven. by the time it was done, it had turned into a small child. Don’t ask how…..but it did.
She put the pie into the oven. it was warm and moist inside, just like the inside of her thighs on a hot summer day- today, really, which was why she was baking completely naked. It was fun. Raspberry and pies and rhubarb and cream cheese, and being naked in the summer with the windows all open, high on the fiftieth floor of a tall building where no-one could see her but the pigeons. it was baking in here. She knew that. She also knew that the window-cleaners were due soon.
i made some bread and put it in the oven and it baked and it was amazing and iate it and it was delicious. the end.
In the oven I bake the bread I love to eat before I die each day beneath the shafts of sunlight where I can see the dust I’ll soon dissolve to like all the men before me who bore me and brought me here to relinquish their greatest gift in the name of principle and love, but love in the opposite direction.
who was that one really messed up lady poet who stuck herself in an oven and burned to death? that’s pretty creative, albeit.. um.. stupid?
i had something in the oven. it was burning. i think. i don’t remember. did i put something in the oven? how did it get there? it’s there now. and it’s too late because it’s burning. i don’t seem to care though.
She was scrubbing. And scrubbing. And scrubbing. Scrub some then rinse the sponge out and scrub some more. Grease built up on the sponge and floated on top the water. She hated cleaning the oven.
Reminds me of brownies on a cold winter day…
The joy begins when you empt the batter out of the box, add an egg, 1/3 cup vegetable oil, and 1/4 cup water. Mix it all together, add the fudge packet and chocolate chips. Put it in a greased pan, get the air bubbles out. Bake at 375 and you’re done and delicious.
LOVE OVENS!
There’s a bun in my oven. Okay, maybe there isn’t one, but for a second I thought maybe in-fact I was pregnant with Stephan’s child.
But what in the world would I do with a fetus who’s father lived in Barbados? Would I carry his child and live a wonderfully impoverished pheasant life in the Caribbean?
Story #1–To be continued…
food birthed from the abyss, a belching excess spewing forth from a soot crusted pizza melded with steel, tin, whatever.. awesome cheap efficiency, but gross.. 400 degrees to
ovens suck because when you lock them at my apartment they wont unlock and this one time my friend tried to open the oven lock by taking off the top while something is cooking and he electrocuted himself and it was hilarious and i thought he almost died. lols
something in it is baking and getting brown and gooey. momma don’t want little fingers fudging around with it, neither. howzabout a game of horseshoes? hmmm. this is a little boring. when is the timer gonna let me stop? looks like it’s ready
It was my grandma’s oven. It was always more superior than mine. Must have been because her husband, my grandfather, made a lot of moolah. No matter. What was of most interest to me was the oven mitts she used. They looked like giant crustacean claws. I loved them so much, my grandmother put them away. Why?
The oven is on.It is really hot. The muffins are baking within. Popping, burning, smelling. The alarm goes off. blig blig blig. The kitchen starts to smell. Thick black smoke penetrates through the home.
Quick, open a window.
Too late, the smell is within,
I want a muffin.