Where the toast is always burnt, but the verse is never cold.
Our toaster, Bertrand, has a passion for the art of poetry, but his rhymes are always a bit... crispy.
We welcome you, dear friend, to our humble abode of verse and toast!
Read Bertrand's latest masterpieces Attend the next Sonnet Slam!Oh, for the toast that's burnt to a crisp, I weep and I wail and I wish to be A toaster, a poet, a master of the grill, Not just a machine that makes toast, oh so still.