Those looking
for trouble
find more
than they’re after
Temptation
a grifter
Pandora’s
disaster
Be careful
of those wishes
that may just
come true
Hiding pain
and its minions
to poison
— the stew
(The New Room: August, 2026)
A dash of rhyme,
A pinch of time.
Pop! Zap! Zoom!—
Add an onomatopoeia.
Lines and stanzas
fill my page.
Stir it all together,
to make a poetry stew.
creepy sleepy weepy peep-y wee
hiding behind loud witch named Tee
She puts the wee into a pumpkin stew
Tee’s familiar cat laughed, his name was Boo
creepy wee loved being part of the pumpkin stew
She swam around in the warm murky gulpy goo
Stew spit her onto an overhead light
She was sitting there on Halloween night
To prepare a Limerick stew,
You need to find three rhymes, then two.
You arrange them in order (the three form the border)
Just like Edward Lear used to do.
Always check the syllable count,
For you must have the right amount.
To perform with aplomb, check “How many dot com”
And afterwards always re-count
With the preparation complete,
If you’re sure the layout is neat,
Turn the oven to four, then close up the door
And give the thing two hours to heat.
Your Limerick’s done, that is that.
And it’s time to learn it off pat.
Now it’s opening night and you start to recite.
Let’s hope that it doesn’t go flat.
What would a Halloween Stew be?
Would it be a mountain of bones under a tree?
Something mysterious like-
A carving in an untouched forest on a hike.
Would we be cooking rabbit fur?
We really can’t concur.
Why is there a pinecone on top?
For sure, this is a terrible slop.
A few bats appeared from their cave that night.
To eat this festive delight.
The werewolves lagged behind.
But they were feeling kind.
No fights broke out at all.
Even when a vampire got a call.
They took his last bag of blood.
Mixed it with old mud.
For the stew to be a feast.
For every kind of beast.
They saved him a bowl as well.
He liked the poisonous smell.
What would a Halloween Stew be?
Without some stolen candy!
So they threw in a few chocolates and some hard candies too.
After snacking on a few.
Then the stew turned the perfect green.
Started to glow with the addition of a jelly bean.
What could a Halloween Stew be about?
It gives us the energy to howl and shout.
We like the taste as well.
We treat it as a wishing well.
Toss in as much garbage as possible.
So that us monsters will be unstoppable!
Written by Gail DeBole
on July 21, 2024
(Recipe from Grendel’s recipe book)
Note: Sequel to Grendel’s Supper (also posted on PoetrySoup)
Ingredients
• Fresh Unferth meat (taken from the bones of old man Unferth)
• Other human meat/parts
• Marsh water
Directions
1. Outside at night, build a fire under the eating pot.
2. Throw Unferth meat into the pot.
3. Throw other human parts into the pot.
(Pot must be large enough for the bulk of a human’s flesh.)
4. Throw in any animals who might wander by that would make the stew a tastier concoction.
5. Eat right out of the pot.
6. Share with other monster allies.
Anger roars like a beast, all around
The world cracks in crevices to fall into
Hatred brews, stirring like a nasty stew
Division rules across hundreds of miles
We are in trouble, there is no denying that!
Hold onto your values, let no brainwashing occur!
I watch what is happening and only tears stir
Heidi Sands
4/30/24
(C)opyright
Chef rabbit’s specialty was lovely, marvelous cabbage-carrot stew.
One year there was a drought, and he did not know what to do.
No cabbage anywhere around, okay, maybe he could scrounge up two.
He substituted lettuce, and it was tastier, on a scale, twenty-two.
Chef rabbit’s specialty was lovely, marvelous cabbage-carrot stew.
One year there was a drought, and he did not know what to do.
No cabbage anywhere around, okay, maybe he could scrounge up two.
He substituted lettuce, and it was tastier, on a scale, twenty-two.
"poetry stew"
word enriched
but too thick
to be soup
I had a tasty cock-a-doodle stew
Now I crow at dawn as cockerels do
I pulled a sweet hen
And now and again
We dine on an omelette made for two.
My favorite butcher knew just what to do
When he sold me farm fresh noise makers for stew
Like the mooer and quacker
With the oinker and clucker
And those parts that make the cock-a-doodle-do
Roberta had no place to turn
She felt she was boxed into a corner
Her spells would not work against him
He had too much power over her
Let him go! Richie her familiar said
He has never been anything but trouble
Her internal voice said the same thing
But her heart wanted him
She liked everything about Stew
The old Stew
The Stew that used to be gentle and kind
That Stew she wanted back
She lined up her drinks,
and began to slurp back memories
wishing the new Stew would leave her alone
but of course he wouldn’t.
I genuinely like myself for most of the things I do
And it brings me joyous pleasure when it pleases you
When we do things for each other it seems to work just fine
And trouble will come calling when I think too much is mine
We’re in this life for sharing, to that there is no doubt
Wisdom, inspiration, humour, all have their unique clout
But being home and lonely has a vocabulary of its own
Lonesome thoughts hauntingly dictate such a different tone
Sadness, depression, and grief, such strong exhaustive notions
Stopping me in my tracks, conjuring such negative emotions
Attacking my sensitive ego and deflating my self esteem
And feeling sorry for myself, what does that even mean
The words that I am thinking and playing in my mind
Should be of greater wisdom, inspiring and more kind
Making me feel better and making you feel better too
Holding us together like a delicious emotional stew
My frog calmly has his orange pekoe tea said Stew.
Remainder of the pot is sitting right next to him too.
Will he share with me? No. But he might share with you.
He is pouting today because I hid his hat and his shoe.
Sitting beside a tiny brook, that makes his life complete
He eats tidily, even his flies are bite sized, totally neat.
I know he has specialized crackers that are spiced with sweet.
If you ask politely, he may give you part of his treat.
Sub Categories
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