Blog Feed – Page 3 – The Author Stew webpage

Not The One Marrying You

I had a friend or so I thought

Well more than a friend if I were true

If I had been true to that what she sought

She wanted more, that I knew

It wasn’t something I was told

Not in words at least

The games of love are often old

The feelings of one often fleeced

In a game when hearts aren’t true

My actions weren’t meant to harm

This power was something new

Not many fell for my charm

Her heart was something borrowed

A loan for lonely times

When hurried times had slowed

Selfishness topped my list of crimes

I never considered her countenance

If she felt something blue

And a sixpence

Nor a dime would do

To fix what I did to you

So as I sit here

In this pew

Listening to vows shared I fear

I made the mistake in not being in his shoes

Not being the one marrying you

This is for a dVerse prompt: Pick one of the following two options:

1) Use one (or more) of the five phrases in the Victorian rhyme either as a title for your poem or within your poem. You can write about marriage or not. The subject of the poem is wholly up to you.
OR
2) Riff off this rhyme. Let it take you wherever it takes you, from the romantic and sentimental to the fantastic or macabre. What charms or rites, humorous or serious, would you include for a particular occasion’s success (or failure)? What ritual or recipe for good fortune, peace, or harmony? For writing? Just put it in a poem, narrative, lyrical, or anything in between. And good luck!

I chose #1 and used all the phrases from the rhyme
Something old, something new
Something borrowed, something blue
And a sixpence in her shoe.
I hope you enjoy! 😊

Like what you’ve read? Subscribe! And get a notice for every new post. It’s easy.

Horny

A trombone with a microphone in front of it. A dark out of focus background with colored lights — Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Horny?
Like the brass section in Beethoven’s symphony no. 9
My trumpet yearns for your lips
To blow out sweet melodies
Slide along with my trombone and break out the band
We’re celebrating tonight’s masterpiece

Horny?
Like a water buffalo
Let me stand in your wetlands
Protect and dominate 
Large and majestic my horns
Ride me and we’ll explore

Horny?
Like a car stuck on the highway
A Bugatti full of luxury 
Sit inside feel the soft leather molded seats
Touch the horn let the world know
You are here and ready to go

Horny?
Me? Don’t let these little things deceive you
I’m an angel in disguise. 
These little projections, protrude 
But that doesn’t make me a devil 
No, that’s just my smile

Horny? You could say that. 
But I don’t like to toot my own horn.

This was from a dVerse prompt that I did (Horny?) but forgot that the prompt was for a 44 word poem. So instead I present it here. 😁

A Taste of Stew

A collection of poems from seductive and spicy to thoughtful and observant. The best poems from the AuthorStew blog & across the Internet are gathered in this collection. There’s something just for you. Get a taste of AuthorStew’s poetry!

Horny?

Horny?

Like the brass section of a band
My trumpet yearns for your lips

Like a water buffalo
Let me in your wetlands

Like a car stuck in traffic
A Bugatti full of luxury 

Me? Don’t let these deceive you
I’m an angel in disguise.

This is for a dVerse prompt: For those new to dVerse Poets Pub or to the quadrille form, it is a 44-word poem written using a word that the host gives you. The title may give you a clue as to the word: horn. Please note that you may use any of the variations the word may take.

I hope you enjoy! 😊

Written on Spindrift Pages

I –
- think therefore I am, am because we are, singular,
- referring to the speaker, ninth letter of the alphabet
- refer to myself as such yet get lost within the crowd
Write –
- a letter, what you know, to fill in the blank spaces on a page
- The formation of letters, to express oneself in written form, produce as an author
- words on a page, hoping to convey my confusion clearly
On –
- the opposite of off, ease down the road, to remain support by
- attached to or unified with, as to be a covering, connection, or association with
- Top of -, oh I can’t say that, top of my game but you’re no play thing
These –
- are the days, are the times, this before a plural noun,
- used to indicate a [noun], as present, near, just mentioned or pointed out, supposed to be understood, or by way of emphasis
- All of that to say *waves hands around or points with palms open* Yeah
Spendthrift –
- someone who would spend $400 million (or more) on a ballroom
- especially if the building didn’t need a ballroom but you tore part of it down anyway
- And you’re not going to be living there after 2 year
Pages –
- kneel before the knight, of a magazine, a side of one of the pieces of paper in a book
- calls to a person, printed material on a bound collection of paper
- I call out to the one below me, I look for your name on this piece of paper

Refer to myself as such yet get lost within the crowd
Words on a page, hoping to convey my confusion clearly
Top of -, oh I can’t say that, top of my game but you’re no play thing
All of that to say *waves hands around or points with palms open* Yeah
And you’re not going to be living there after 2 years
I call out to the one below me, I look for your name on this piece of paper

This is for a dVerse prompt: And so for today’s MTB prompt we are taking a lyrical line and defining it word by word in an acrostic:

Choose one of these lines from that most lyrical poet, Dylan Thomas:

How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
I write on these spindrift pages
This sandgrain day in the bent bay’s grave
Do not go gentle into that good night
Tells with silence the last light breaking

OR take a favourite line from your own poetry (and link or reference it)

Write as acrostic each word, alongside its defining characteristics – this could be any style you choose e.g. an American sentence; a haiku, a triplet etc…

Guidelines. use dictionary, thesaurus etc but loosen up the exactitude of the definition– let your imagination wander through each meaning, by word association, by sound, by interpretation, by what it means to you. or even create your own definition.

I’m not too sure how well I did with this form, and I took some liberties by adding the stanza at the end, but I hope you enjoy. 😊

Let Them

They want to come after me
Let them
They’ll see what fire brings
They’ll see what happens when my anger wins
When the control I have 
Slips the ring

They want to tear me down
Let them
They’ll see how hard of a rock I am
How hard it is to rip brick from brick
The tools they have
Aren’t fit for this

They want to cheat to win
Let them
They swear they’ll do anything
They don’t know what anything is
I’ve already done the things
They couldn’t even imagine

They want to come after me
Let them

This is for a dVerse prompt: I would like us to blend the concept of “Let Them” into a poem. I hope you enjoy! 😊

Memory/ Remembrance/ If Only

My eyes close in rest
Much like the moon at the dawn
My mind stays awake

I stand in the cemetery where my grandmother lays. Beside her are two soldiers, one on each side. Her husbands. Military service, the ultimate sacrifice. Military servitude to a military life. Happy wife, happy life. There are medals you can only receive when you lay down to rest, for the last time. Rest in peace. Peace; the reward given to those who sent you to war … if you win.

Upstairs neighbour sleeps
The same grave different day
We fought in your wars

“It must be weird to be here on Memorial Day,” said Donald.

“Huh? Why?” asked Justin.

“Well my family takes Memorial Day pretty seriously but don’t worry there is still going to be a cookout. Just after … this,” he said, waving his hands around.

“We have Remembrance Day in Canada. It’s just like Memorial Day.”

“So you have cookouts?”

“Umm no.”

“Fireworks?”

“Not really.”

“Does your dad get up and tell war stories about when he was in the war and how your grandfather fought and how your forefathers fought in the Revolutionary War to bring freedom to this country and how everyone should be grateful that your family is here?”

“Uh not exactly,” said Justin.

“So, it must be weird to be here on Memorial Day,” said Donald.

“Yeah eh.”

Memories fade quickly
Grey clouds pass by overhead
The clocktower chimes

If only they had remembered. I shake my head for what must be the millionth time. I look up scanning the skies for drones, for what must be the millionth time. All clear so far. Ever since they figured out that by splitting up any group into single person “units” warfare had become a lot lonelier. Though better alive and alone then dead with a million others. And as long as you believed that you were fit for active duty. When you stopped believing it you were as good as dead. When you stopped questioning it one way or the other that was the time to get off the battlefield.

If only they had remembered. Remembered the futility of fighting, the fallibility of human intelligence especially those that relied on artificial intelligence. If they had remembered the beauty of love and not money. If only. I shake my head again. The Hallucination War was an apt name. Started by who knows who, fought by unmanned drones and vehicles, amplified by AI. Until the only way to shut it down. … Send in the fleshies. Human beings. Us. Me. Flesh and blood against metal, plastic and circuitry. An unfair fight but the only fight left. If only they had remembered.

This is for a dVerse prompt: This Memorial Day, let us honor what we want to remember. Let our haibun sing our remembrance! Write a haibun that alludes to remembrance. I chose to do 3 though they can all tie together or be separate. I tried to keep it short as I usually do a haiku and then a story after I wanted to keep it to a much smaller piece after the haiku. I hope you enjoy! 😊

Wanted

I want to hurt you
Because you asked me to
To make your jaw ache
And have your soul break upon the hardness
Of my discipline

I want your bottom pink
As you begged me to do
Sharp pains that made you no longer think
Of the right or wrongs, the outside world and 
It’s goings on

I want you a mess, your eyes red, mascara smeared 
As you look in the mirror and smile
Understanding that you were a good girl 
Deserving of praise and punishment
So fucking proud

I want you
As you want yourself
Kneeling, ready, obedient, brat
Here because you want to be
Here because you need to be
Mine and wanted

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. 7 stories in all! Get a taste of spicy stories to cuddle up with. Something that will satisfy your erotic taste.

You’ll find a wide variety of fun well written stories to enjoy with high spice content.

A Bride Dressed in White / The Painter’s Vision

**Marc Chagall, *Bride with a Fan* (1911), oil on canvas, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY**

A Bride Dressed in White

She wasn’t innocent this wife to be
Though she was dressed in white
Pale as a moonlit night
She said her silent prayers
To whom one can only guess
This woman whom the veil hides 
Hides more than just pretty eyes
A past ruby red and dark as obsidian 
No fan can brush away
Here comes the bride
An organ plays
Of an organ played 
She was a virtuoso
Practice makes perfect some might say
No my bride to be is not innocent
But then again, neither am I

The Painter's Vision

The sky is not grey
Upon this wedding day
A man waits for whom the picture paints
Not a dark line drawn
She holds within her hand
Not a bouquet but something else 
To brush the heat away
What is there to hide her beauty?
Pulled back she is in full display
Pale as ice, no color touches 
Her hiding curtain, nor the arraignment her cover
Her cheeks hold no blush
Are her eyes cast down
In devotion
In dread
In sweet resignation?
The sky is not grey
Upon this wedding day

The strokes of the brush
Were not light upon the canvas.
Of the painter’s hand, the lines were not thin.
Warmth was not what his vision sought.
What did he see within the bride
As his paint lay on the canvas?
A splash of color encroaches not from the west
Perhaps an intrusion of his own.
I will tell you not what she holds,
Though it blows its own gale
Cooling on an already icy vision.

This is for a dVerse prompt: For your Poetics prompt today, if you haven’t already guessed, I’d like to write ekphrastic poetry about Chagall’s art. Choose one of the paintings in this post, and compose a poem about it. For an added challenge, use descriptors in your poem to describe the details in the artwork and tell us about what they are, by telling us what they are not.

I did two poems. The second was a more literal reply to the added challenge while the first, my initial poem, is more subtle in the way it addresses the added challenge, saying more of what the bride is not verses describing the painting by telling what it is not. I hope you enjoy! 😊

She Wants Another Dog

She wants another dog.
I don’t think so
She wants a puppy.
We don’t need another
She wants another dog.
I said no
A cute little dog.
The puppy needs no brother
She wants another dog.
It’s a no go
We have another dog.

This is for a dVerse prompt: Sit! Stay! Now: pen us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), including some form of the word dog. I hope you enjoy! 😊

Questions of the Heart

Two question marks with different colored hearts inside combined to make a heart shape — Question mark Image by John Hain from Pixabay; edited by me

When you think of the warmth of love
Can you picture me?
I want to be the one you think of
Does the feeling of love
Come when you’re in my arms?
I want to hug you and make you feel warm
Is it love
When we’re together?
I don’t want to be apart
Can I call you 
My forever love?
It’s a question of the heart.

A Taste of Stew

A collection of poems from seductive and spicy to thoughtful and observant. The best poems from the AuthorStew blog and across the Internet are gathered in this collection.

There’s something just for you. Get a taste of AuthorStew’s poetry! A sample of my safe for work & not safe for work poetry.