I've written a lot of fanfics and other stories but never a poem. This one was inspired by how my mom cooks eggs. The meaning is in there but meant to be very vague.
Also, since I am not familiar with poem format, feel free to offer constructive critism on grammar for my poems.
That's it. Enjoy! :)
Cooking on High
Flames burning, water boiling, steam rolling.
Burnt, singed, about to explode.
On four-hundred and turned up with more fire.
A bird's product, the outer shell the only thing in the way of the eminent bomb.
Blue blaze rippling until no moisture remains.
The temperature rises, the only protection tested and weakened.
Suddenly, cool moisture saturates the parched remains.
Water, the cook has made a fatal error.
BOOM!
All hope is lost.
Dinner is destroyed and a trip to the doctor is in order.
Read your cooking manual. Unless you want to be charred by a homemade bomb.