Calm Before War

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
On the eve before the war
The calm in the streets
Is an eerie echo that rattles in my mind
Like the faint call of a forgotten lover
Or a missing child.
It calls to me with it’s naïve whimsy
Come let’s play
It’s all make believe
You’re safe where you are.

I stand on the precipice
Watching the fires burn
Like spots on the sun
Close my eyes
I see that yesterday
It was yesterday.
Today, can go to hell.
Hell is where we are today.

Boarded windows greet me
With the dawn
Reflecting not the light but
Dark of man
Chants of the aggrieved,
Angry at the march of time
Roll over the horizon
The warning shot
Before the drone’s strike

“Black man! To the fore!”
Why must my melanin
Mark me as target,
Aggressor, savior and flag bearer?
Oh right

They call it the race war
A race to destruction
Only 5 feet ahead
Why don’t they call it
The crazy shit White folk started
Yeah you right
Which one?

Now you’re all agitated
Aggravated, bothered and such.
Calm your bits.
There’s plenty blame to go round
Ain’t all White folks,
Plenty of color in that rainbow prism.

Your red hats
And baseball bats
Black flags
Blue on White
Raised fists
Pink and baby blue
Symbols for what?
What do they mean to you?
Your heart and desires?
Passion’s fire,
Ache and grievance.
Missed opportunities,
Past defense,
Things done,
Things to come,
All come undone?

You don’t know.
Just here for the blood boil
To feel alive
Comrade in arms
Fighter of freedoms
Oppressor
Oppressed
Just have a violence fetish.

Second day
Marching forward
As if soldiers
All in a row.
Armed for war,
So easy they fall.
Funny little lines.
Soldier boys no more.

Uncertainty
Fog of war
Fog of foolishness
Fools and their plans
Soon part
Run and duck
Duck and hide
Hidden holes
Fill with ink
Black fills in the circle.
Today starts the war
Spot on the calendar
History calls the starting point
Peace is the period
When does this sentence end?

cover of After All is Said ... A couple walking away from each other the guy looking towards the woman

After All is Said

After All is Said . . . 30 poems about what comes next. Read poetry that deals with how it feels after you’ve been intimate, in a relationship, out of a relationship, in love, out of love. After All is Said … What’s left to say? These poems.

Buy it here: books2read.com/u/3Jo61B

Which Makes Our Wicked Loving Ways Sublime

Photo by yang miao on Unsplash
Marveling at a love so fair
I hold her hand in mine
Her eyes meet me where I am
A love true, pure and divine
Which makes our wicked loving ways sublime

Flirtatious flutters of her lashes,
Lashes of her whip tailed wit
Cut deep, so sweet, so many times;
I look so forward to it.
Marveling at a love so fair.

Her skin so soft
I love to touch
From head to toe and head to Oh!
Skin to skin and such
I hold her hand in mine

She smiles at me with secret meaning,
Knowledge for only her and I.
Her devious desires she discreetly
Says what things we together should try.
Her eyes meet me where I am

Not where I used to be.
For she lifted me up from the dirt
Dirty and desperate for love’s caress
Across my chest and under my shirt
A love true, pure and divine.

I took her angel wings
And anointed her with oils
The better to slide in between
The pleasures of hedonistic spoils
Which makes our wicked loving ways sublime

This was for a dVerse prompt: Today, we’re going to revisit the cascade form, created by Udit Bhatia.

“The cascade is not a difficult form to understand. You will use each line from your first stanza in subsequent stanzas. For example, if your first stanza is three lines, your will have four stanzas. The first line of your first stanza becomes the last line of the second stanza. The second line of the first stanza becomes the last line of your second stanza, and so on.”

I hope you enjoy! 😊


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I yam who I yam

Photo by Resume Genius on Unsplash
How do you keep silent
On a cold winter’s day
Like the snores of a snake
Hibernating in some forgotten hole?

Do you bury your head?
A gopher in a field or
Perhaps an ostrich in the sand,
Your head buried like treasure.

It’s the polite thing to do,
To say nothing,
When inside your head
Spins a running commentary

Like a golf tournament
Announcer wincing in whispered tone,
‘Ooo that one is gonna cost him, Bob’,
As you watch him flounder like some landed fish.

I am not like you;
I must spout off like a teapot,
Boiling with indignity,
Uncouth in my opinion.

You sir are a buffoon and she deserves better!
And yes I know the location is not ideal
And the timing could be better.
Perhaps I should know who they are before I speak.

But I am who I am,
Like some pipe smoking, sailor man;
Hyped up on spinach canned.
Love me as if you understand.

This is for a dVerse prompt: Whatever the subject you choose to write on for this poetics challenge, I’d like you to use the rhetorical device of a simile.

“As you know, a simile is a comparison between two unlike things using the words, “like” or “as.” The word “simile” itself is a Latin word meaning “like.” And we use a simile to describe or explain something unfamiliar, or to expand on or distill an abstraction, by relating it to something more familiar. As a rhetorical tool, it‘s very effective in conveying meaning while giving pleasure in discovering resemblances. But it also satisfies our deep emotional or psychological need not merely to inform but to relate to one another.”

I hope you enjoy! 😊

Winter or Spring

Alan Freed, REUTERS from USA Today 2/2/2026
Imaginary/
Lines that make borders seem real
Communication

“So what did it say? More winter or early spring?”

“Which one?”

“What do you mean which one? The little rodent in the ground. Pops out, sees his shadow, boom, more snow or doesn’t and bam, sunshine and flowers. The groundhog.”

“Yes but which groundhog? The Canadian or the American?”

“What do I care about Canada for? I ain’t huntin’ moose and eating maple syrup. I just want to know if I gotta shovel any more snow.”

“Ahhh. In that case Punxsutawney Phil did see his shadow. Sorry buddy.”

“What about the Canuck ones?”

“Early spring.”

“They should get together and come to consensus.”

“What, like they have a meeting and decide whether to see their shadow or not?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh Donnie. That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. What am I going to do with you?”
Furry weathermen
Winter and Spring collusion
Three in one decide

“Okay boys, let’s get this show on the road,” said Phil trying to gather the other two to the table.

“Why are you always in charge?” asked Willie.

“Because I’m the American,” replied Phil, standing a little taller. “It’s nature’s way.”

“Sod off,” said Fred, his French Canadian accent giving the expression an even deeper sense of rudeness.

“Come on Fred,” said Willie, always one to be polite, “Let’s not get started off on the wrong foot.”

“Yeah Fred, come on, so we can get this meeting over with. I still have to get back to Pennsylvania.”

“You know we could have done this in Montreal. At least we’d be in a real city,” complained Fred as he pulled up a chair to the table.

“We all agreed we’d meet in Syracuse as it was the most central for all of us,” said Phil

“And Phil can’t cross the border,” chimed in Willie, chuckling.

“It was one time! Besides, it’s legal up there.”

“And the gun?” asked Fred.

“Meh. Everybody has a gun down here. I forgot about it.” Phil shrugged.

“Luckily, you’re a bit of a celebrity. They let you off easy,” said Willie.

“It was a different time. Besides that’s not why we’re here. We’ve got to decide this whole spring or winter thing for 2026.”

“Winter can bugger off for all I care,” said Fred, “I’m voting spring all day.”

“You can’t just vote like that,” said Phil.

“Yeah, what if everybody voted without thinking. No offense,” said Willie turning to Phil.

“None taken,” said Phil.

“I mean if everybody just voted based on how they felt at the moment, think of what kind of mess there would be, again no offense,” said Willie turning to Phil, “Besides, we have a reputation to think of. People would think we were some kind of idiots voting like that, again no offense.”

“I’m beginning to think there is some offense there,” said Phil.

“Sorry.” said Willie.

“Listen. I’m voting spring. You can vote how you like,” said Fred. He crossed his arms and sat back in the chair.

“Well my vote is for winter,” said Phil.

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with you buying into a salt mining business would it?” asked Fred, arching an eyebrow.

“It might, it might. But with 6 more weeks of winter I get to stay in my hole and not be bothered by people. And we need the cool. Have you seen the summers around here lately? A little global chilling to balance out this global warming is a good thing.”

“Hmph,” said Fred, “Well Willie old boy, seems like you get to break the tie.”

“Game 7,” said Phil.

“Ontario is up to bat,” said Fred.

“Or taking the ice,” said Phil.

“Either way, we know what’s going to happen,” said Fred.

“Listen, the two of you can kiss my -” said Willie, before he started choking. 

“You okay?” asked Fred and Phil after a couple of minutes watching Willie choke.

“Yeah, I’m fine. And bring on spring! I’ve got a good feeling.”

Phil and Fred rolled their eyes.

Rain or snow showers
The world still turns endlessly
Winter becomes Spring

This is for a dVerse prompt: Write a haibun alluding to Groundhog Day.

Did you know that there is a groundhog for groundhog’s day in the US and in Canada? Actually there are several but the one’s I heard about were the Ontario one: Wiarton Willie, the Quebec one: Fred la Marmotte and the Pennsylvania one: Punxsutawney Phil.

The opportunity for a comedic piece was too strong for me to resist. I hope you enjoy! 😁

Feelings of Faith & Despair

Image by Kev from Pixabay. Filter added by Me
I cried for the moment to end
To come back again
To stay frozen forever.
Anxiety?
Maybe. Anticipation? Trepidation?
Excitement? Desire? Fear?
Why name an emotion?
Instead just feel.

It sits there in my gut,
Waiting to erupt.
Longing for you.
No, waiting for you,
Like a monk.
My body it's monastery.

It has a faith I lack.
Never looking forward or back.
It knows you'll come along,
To me, for me. Mine.
This faith feeling,
This destiny divine.

Like Love it is everlasting,
This moment, pin needle sharp
In time. A razor’s edge
So thin, tightrope walked,
Exponent of infinity,
A constant point.
Just there,
No equation
Or equal sign.

I wait here.
For it to explode.
For infinity to cease.
The amalgamation of all I feel
To come together
In one Big Bang.

Poof. It goes.
Not a whimper
Or whisper.
Life goes on
As before.

A pot of stew with the title A Taste of Stew written over it.

A Taste of Stew

A collection of poems from seductive and spicy to thoughtful and observant. 39 of the best poems from the AuthorStew blog and scattered across the Internet are gathered in this collection. There is sure to be something within this collection that will delight you.

Dream Woman

Foreground image by Nika Akin; background image by Barbara A Lane both by Pixabay. Editing of images by Me
Dreams of her that’s all they ever were
The only dreams I ever had
She, her, the female form
Her body, eyes, curves, smile
Form my every sleeping thought
Driving down a road slick with rain
Dangerous curves, yeah that’s her
Running through a desert
Panting with desire
For just a drop of moisture
Too much a simile for me
To not see
That it is her to me
Floating on a cloud, the number 9
She is there with me
Finally mine
Only to wake in a bed empty

I close my eyes again.
She is my dream.
My subconscious’
Only reality.

This is for a dVerse prompt: For today’s Poetics, I would like you to write a poem that interprets a dream. It can be about falling— where falling is not fear, but release. Let gravity feel like permission. What did you finally stop holding onto?

Hope you enjoy!


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Our Only Family Road Trip

Image of the restaurant taken from the web
Simple trip, kids & I,
Not so simple after all,
Once we stopped for lunch.

Familiar landmarks,
Seen for the first time.
The same restaurant lunch.

Then the tire went flat.
Hours waiting only to be led on a chase.
Our only family road trip.

This is for a dVerse prompt: So, for this Monday quadrille prompt, as you may have all guessed, I would like you to write a poem of exactly 44 words including the word trip.

This was inspired by a memory of a road trip the kids and I took from the GTA in Ontario to Baltimore, MD and back. Yes, there was a restaurant, yes, there was a flat, yes there was a chase. Though technically it wasn’t our only family road trip. Hope you enjoy! And no flat tires. 😊

Kisses Made of Stars

Kisses made of stars, trail down your neck
My lips send fire, to burn through your cold exterior, towards a burning sun
My hands reach for the warmth of you, the depths you keep hidden
I feel your fire, lava flowing beneath the surface
I want to set it free, let your heat sear into my skin

Your lips part, letting out sounds of pleasure
Your hands rest upon my body, your support and undoing
Let your touch linger on me, feel my desire
Let that desire fuel you, rise up, ride the stars into the night
Create a place for our fire to burn, together we’ll heat up the darkness.

Woman laying on a bed semi-clothed with open books around her

A Taste of Stew Erotic Stories Collection

A collection of short erotic stories including all 3 of the pandemic stories; previously released separately. An array of stories ranging from a heated argument between a mom and dad that turns steamy to an interplanetary smuggler getting frisky behind a hotel desk. You’ll find a wide variety of fun well written stories to enjoy with high spice content.

America Again

Image of America by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
From ‘Let America Be America Again’ By Langston Hughes

(I’m not America though I used to be, but America was never me)
Make it great again. Great at what? Great when?
Maybe the 1960’s, how about then? Segregation, cold wars
Assassinate a president. Oh no, that’s all right then.
When would you like to go back to?
You let me know when.
Not a time but a way? The way it used to be?
When America was respected,
a leader of nations and men.
Let America be America again.

("I had a dream. That one day this nation would rise up …" But I’m living it’s nightmare)
Dream on you dreamers. No, not you sleepers.
Not you sleepers who have slept on the atrocities of a once great country;
Those that snore peacefully as the elected Executive stomps through history.
A petulant toddler, upset that he is not given his favorite toy.
Which toy? Whichever one he can see,
Be it green, land, or gold, peace, prizes or war, any toy in the hand of another,
He thinks belongs to him. If I want it it’s mine! It belongs to me!
A sleeping giant, this land of the free?
Let it be the dream it used to be.

(America discovered in 1492, unless you were here already, but we’re not talking to you)
America used to do things. We were the envy of the globe. We made discoveries.
Pioneers in the sciences, arts and more. The great Western, of civilization;
Complete with cowboy boots and a ten gallon hat.
America used to be …
They’ll say, as if yesterday was a panacea, and the present pain.
America still is.
Despite the recent dark clouds and dumbing down of society
Through an endless campaign
Let it be the pioneer on the plain

(“America was never America to me”. Though maybe America is more me than it wishes to see.)
There is hope on the horizon, or in the clouds, in the cloud, an AI induced hallucination,
Perhaps in the nation, a female orientation, with male parts, a crazy upstart,
Who dares to dream. Who dares indeed? Dream a little dream, you’ve got to be a little crazy,
To combat the doomscrool, for whom the bell tolls, if you’re going to believe,
That things will get better, can’t get much worse, oh but it can you see,
See it all, from above the clouds, above the cloud, an AI hallucination,
Data center hiccup, energy drain, there it goes again,
The desire to be free, it’s not just me.
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

This was for a dVerse prompt: I thought we should revisit a form we had not done together since May 2013 when it was presented to the community by Samuel Peralta. This is the glosa (sometimes gloss or close) that is a poetry that goes back to the Spanish courts of the 14th century. The idea is to use four lines from a famous or well-known poet and expand on the poem keeping it in line with the original poem, and to honor the author.

The form consists of four borrowed lines from your poem (the cabreza)  of choice and four stanzas of ten lines where the last line of each stanza is a line from the cabreza. There is no requirement on the meter other than it should not be too different from the borrowed poem. There is only one other requirement and that is that in the glosa line 6 and 9 should rhyme with the borrowed line. 

I chose a poem from one of my favorite poets, Langston Hughes, ‘Let America Be America Again’. I took a look at some of his famous poems and then I saw this one and thought this was the one. I had forgotten about it until I saw the title and started to read it and was like oh yeah.

In writing this I forgot that the last line had to be from the original and wrote my own last lines (I did the rhyming of lines 6 & 9 in the original) and when posting I saw that the last line had to be from the original and stuck it in. It works but it completely changed the poem. 🤣 I highly suggest you read Langston Hughes’ Let America Be America Again. It’s striking how a poem written in 1935 can have such an impact in 2026.

I also have two quotes in the poem. The first is from Martin Luther King Jr.’s I have a dream speech and the second is the 5th line from Let America Be America Again. The last stanza is a bit of free verse stream of conscious in style.

Snow Day

Picture by Me
Cold as a witch’s teat 
The phrase never made sense to me
But the white powdery snow made for a pretty scene

White as a lamb’s wool
I suppose if you kept it inside
The snow lay upon the ground like a baby’s blanket

Quiet as a church mouse
The winter landscape
Muted by flakes of snow piled one upon the other

Everything stopped in its tracks
More like hiding inside
Forced to sit and stay, quiet contemplation on a winter’s day

This was for a dVerse prompt: write about snow as you see, feel or imagine it, in any form you wish, using clear imagery as crisp as fresh-fallen snow. I hope you enjoy!