Blog Feed – Page 5 – The Author Stew webpage

Granites and Schists

“Behold! The granites and schists of my dark and stubborn country,” said Igor, looking out of the window at the crowd below.

I looked at Svetlana.

“The people are dumb as rocks,” she explained. She rolled her eyes and slumped onto the couch.

“And twice as stubborn!” yelled Igor, turning away from the window, “They should be revolting! Burning cars in the street! Cursing the plutocracy. Readying themselves to rise up to their destiny!”

“And instead they watch as the modern equivalent of chariots and gladiators roll by,” I offered.

“No. Instead they line up to watch an orange clown paraded in front of them like some sad court jester. And as they laugh behind their hands the jester has led the enemy through the gates of the castle,” spat Igor.

“You have forgotten who your people are,” remarked Svetlana.

“Da. Granites and schists.”

This was for a prompt from dVerse: Write a piece of prose, fiction or non-fiction, up to 144-words, using the given line. The line:

“The granites and schists
Of my dark and stubborn country.”

I hope you enjoy!

Submission

An erotic poem

Domination of a different fashion
Taken in by a good reaction
Dopamine hits just right
That spot you know, just get in my licks
I’ll lick you good, call you daddy
Enter in the rear if that’s where you’ll have me
I’m on my knees, face down, hands flat
Eyes cast down but a smile on my lips
You can command me, my every action 
Obeying you is my satisfaction.

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.

Webs on the Christmas Tree

There was a lady who lived next door
From a town in Ukraine born
Who every year for the Christmas season
Put spiders and webs her tree in
What a strange lady I did think
That there might be a meaning I did not link
Then one day when we did cross paths
I thought to ask
Why the spiders and webs I pointed
The answer she gave left me not disappointed
It’s a tradition in my home country
From a story of the Christmas Spider it be
Here I believe it is tinsel
It is from my country that you received such info
Once a tree was planted
But had to be abandoned
Grown from a pine cone
From the seed it was grown
Grown for Christmas a tree they’d own
But the family was so poor they made soup from a stone
So no decorations they had
To decorate the tree and make themselves glad
So on Christmas eve they did sleep
But in the tree a spider they did keep
The spider and family worked all through the night
To decorate it with webs and make it a sight
When they woke the next morn
The light shown through the webs the tree adorned
The first light of Christmas day
Turned those webs into a gold and silver display
The poor family was overjoyed
They were blessed for the home of the spiders they did not destroy
Now we too add a web or two to our tree
In hopes of winning a web lottery. 😁

This was for a dVerse prompt:

Dear Poets, I am going to make today’s prompt easy for you (I hope!) by opening it up to the following options:
1) write to any of the previous prompts linked above, using their guidelines
2) follow the wikipedia link and choose one of Legendary Creatures to write about
3) create your own creature using one (or more) of the types wiki categorizes them into
4) take a line from one of the three above excerpts and build a poem around it.

I chose option 2 (clink the dVerse link to see more detailed info) and wrote about the Christmas Spider, which I just learned of because of the link. I followed the rhyming of each line similar to the A Visit from St. Nicholas (Twas the Night Before Christmas), though I stretched some of the rhyming a bit. lol. I hope you enjoy!

Zero: The Absence Of

background image by Felix Mittermeier from Pixabay

Zero: the absence of.
And I got zero problem with that,
99 problems but zero ain’t one.
Zero ain’t alone,
It's infinite in its emptiness.
Ain’t got nobody 
And we’re together in that,
Got zero use for foolishness,
An intolerance.

Zagged
Edges
Reach
Oblivion

This is for a prompt by dVerse: Write a quadrille with zero. Hope you enjoy!

Time Moves On

Like the butterfly
Or the falling leaves of fall
The passage of time

I knew that it was time to say goodbye. Not that I wanted to go. Or honestly needed to, though if you talked to my dad he would have said I needed to go 5 minutes out of the womb. Haha. He likes to joke like that. Dad jokes laugh at him. It was just that time had moved on. It was time I did too.

I looked around my room, correction, old room. The bed that took up entirely too much space. Many nights were spent sleeping on that bed. Many afternoons too. There were so many things I wanted to do on that bed that I never had the chance to do. Now, I most likely never would.

And in that corner I spent many hours in front of a computer. I learned many things in that corner. Many of them involved things that I wanted to do on the bed. I also wrote papers and emails. I once killed a man with a single shot in that corner. Yeah, I still remember that head shot. It was an awesome moment in gaming history. Thank. You. Very. Much.

I am no longer the boy that spent time in this room. I’ve grown. Branched out beyond these four walls. There comes a time when a boy walks out the door and in crossing that threshold he becomes something new. A man.

Time moves on. No man is an island. What comes around goes around. And all those other cliches I learned in school that I’ll never use in the real world.

“Jimmy? Are you done moving your things to the basement?”

“Just a sec mom! I’m almost done!”

Goodbye old boy’s room. Hello new man’s basement.

This was for a dVerse prompt: Write a haibun that references transformation.

I chose the transformational time when a boy becomes a man and moves out. … of his room. 😁 Hope you enjoy!

Singly #1

A single pear
Image by pablo102 from Pixabay

It’s a numbers game
You gotta play to lose
Plenty of fish in the sea
3.5 trillion give or take 3
Well you’ll always be alone thinking like that
But 1 is a prime number and I’m prime with that
(actually it’s not)
You could join me and her, a throuple of sorts
1 69?  No, thanks I’m fine.
You’ll think differently, when you reach an age like me
And at exactly what age does the womb dry up?
It’s not me, it’s biology
And childbearing is all the definition of me
Exactly, though I won’t say it aloud

I’m not lonely being alone
The loneliest number is one, when it’s with another
Free to be me, to judge my own inadequacies 
Pump my own tires, hear my own accolades
Would a 1 + 1 be nice?  Of course
It would do more than suffice to have a full 100% of another
To add my 100% as cover
And we together would be 
100

This was for a dVerse prompt: Write about numbers.

There are numerous ways to respond to the prompt. Here are some ideas to work with.

Pen a poem about your favourite number or lucky number.
Honour or highlight a number that holds meaning for you like a birthday, anniversary, meaningful event, personal milestone, the number of times you have done something or something has happened.
Write of numbers in general (mathematical concepts such as counting, measurement, geometry).
Use many numbers within your poem to emphasize another theme or message.
How does a particular number makes you feel and why?
Personify a number, taking inspiration from Harry Baker.
Play with a nursery rhyme such as “One, Two, Buckle My Shoe” and make it your own.

I hope you enjoy!

Boxed Out

Limited
Handcuffed to a limit I never agreed with
Narrow view
Of a specific group I don't know
Bought
And sold to a man with no soul
I can't stand
Nor can I sit by, Running to a crowded exit
All your X's
and O's mean nothing
Now that you've boxed me in.

Just One Kiss

She was at a bar alone. Guy approaches and says he can get her in bed with just one kiss. Will she humor him? Or …
Just One Kiss pick it up, you know you want to.

An erotic short story available for only $0.99

So This is Laughter

Joy radiates in sounds like choking
Short breaths barked out 
Like dogs looking at their own reflection
So this is laughter?
Appreciation of a tale
Told through embarrassment 
That I share 
A coupled uncomfortableness that brings a smile
So 
    This
is laughter
The sound a baby makes when happy
Or is that just gas?
Giggles but louder, longer, 
Unabashed in glee, unashamed in enjoyment
So? 
this is laughter
Cruel in mockery
Pointing poignant in sound
Give me the nails on a chalkboard
Rather than soooo much
This laughter 
A dagger through my ego
Maniacal
      Unhinged
  Evil
Genius 
       Or just a madman
   Why is he so mad
Did they not 
         get 
              the 
 Joke
    ?
           So this is 
           Laughter

So this is laughter
Just a sound
The intake of air and released again
Vocalized emotion

So this is why I laugh
Because life is funny like that

This is for a dVerse Prompt: “So, let’s dive into your challenge today, which is to use Ted Kooser’s “So This Is Nebraska” poem {above} for inspiration to write your own “So This Is (fill in the blank)” poem. Hope you enjoy!

Can I Coax Your Love?

How can I coax love from thee
Kisses and sweet words fail
Hearts and chocolate pale
To grant affection towards me
What can this affliction be
That leads to such a woeful tale
Are your feeling so frail
That yearning can not see

This was for a dVerse prompt: Pen us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), including some form of the word coax. Hope you enjoy!

Not A Moment Too Soon

The bright sun arose in the morning sky
I sat in my bed and watched the clouds bloom
From the cold comfort of what was our room

The black darkness fled as the birds did fly
Rising high taking with them the night’s gloom
The sun arose upon the morning sky
I sat and watched the clouds red and orange bloom

I wonder why last night you said goodbye
My heart is dead, my chest is just a tomb
But yet, it was not a moment too soon
The bright sun arose in the morning sky
I sat in my bed and watched the clouds bloom
From the cold comfort of what was our room

This was for a dVerse prompt: … Thus we distinguish the Chaucerian Roundel from all other forms as well as from The Rondel and Rondeau. And by now you’ve guessed that our poetry today is to be written as Chaucer outlines:

Poetry Style:

13 lines
3 stanzas divided into 3 lines (tercet); 4 lines (quatrain) 6 lines (sestet)
rhyme scheme: A B1 B2/a b A B1/a b b A B1 B2
usually 10 syllables per line as iambic pentameter

Hope you enjoy!

Are you a subscriber? You don’t want to miss out on great content! Like poems and stories and announcements. All you have to do is sign up below.