Stewing Poems | Examples

Life

Life- Aye


My cherished one 
set against 
a sordid world 
My lanes are coerced 
just as my feet are formed 
My life is a platter 
furnished on a plaza 
dicing my thoughts 
stewing my ordeal
rendering my life 
a treasure meal
set before a soulless world

better juice

stewing in my own juices
in this 
dystopia
 of a nation
masked thugs 
tearing 
brown babies
from their mothers' arms
raking the brown 
off the streets 
disappearing the
inheritors of the kingdom 
idiots who believe 
in an ever-after
there will be 
a time after
masked thugs 
and mass terrorization
evil visits the evil
and payday 
isn't always Friday
I can't wait 
to write a poem then
but what will it be 
by then 
just
a poke in your 
blind eye
and better juice

Let Go

When you feel you're always controlled,
Like you've not got a choice,
Always questioning if your ever enough,
Letting others drown out your voice.

Feeling like you can never win,
No matter how hard you've tried,
To be left sat stewing alone,
Annoyed how many times you've cried.

Forever the victim to their games,
Enforcing the blame on to you,
Eventually their mask will fall off,
Revealing all you thought was true.

Where you can't see any closure,
Convinced it'll always be the same,
Leave that haunting never ending story,
You're not the one to blame.

As you slowly begin to learn,
Some people watch hoping you fall,
Use that to fuel your fire,
Making a fool out them all.

Begin to believe your inner power,
Start finding the strength to leave,
It's then when you can eventually,
Be able to rest and receive.

Finally there comes an ending point,
You will know when you know,
The only way to move on,
Face your fear to let go.

Reflections of the Past, Visions of the Future

I ask what I've learnt since I was a youth. 
It seems as though I don't have much to show - 
so much energy, spent in search of truth.
Little, have I, of what there is to know. 

Like anyone, I've suffered from abuse, 
but there's no point in stewing in my juice, 
and ambition does not, at all times, pay, 
when aiming at the wrong thing anyway,
and searching for love outside my own skin
is not as rich as finding it within.
With fellow pilgrims sharing life's bouquet,
I will try to appreciate each day.
To chase lady truth, I still have a while. 
Till then, I'll do whatever brings a smile.

The Frog Lunch

On the twig sat the little frog
hungry as a great big hog.
His eyes looked to the east
there he saw the fly, a feast.
He stuck out his tongue
the feasting had begun.
Later on the blade of grass
there was a slug at last,
his appetite was still brewing
his want of more was stewing.
Then from his wandering eye
there was swarm of flies near by.
Once again, he reached out his tongue
and the eating of the masses begun.

Anger in All

By: Katie Davis Written on 6/29/22 Revised on 10/28/24
Anger, burning hot enough to melt a calm mind.
Anger, boiling, steaming like a volcano shaking the earth ready to erupt the pain out of a blistering soul.
Anger stewing, building way beneath. Trying to contain thyself in a fragile encasement.
Breathe. In and out.
In and out.
Just breathe.
Don’t let it simmer and seethe for worse is the actions that are done in anger.
In and out.
In and out.
Keep breathing, keep surviving.
Anger that is like a trick candle that is thought to be blown out, but the flames keep on returning and can burn down what is built. 
So be careful.
Anger in all.

i've approached 13 people at work today and asked, 'do you like soup?'

are you pho real?
there is an overwhelming consensus 
i had to ask
two people had told me they hate all soups
'it's just water and soggy food.'
'slop in a bowl.' 
'looks like dish water.'
what kind of reaction is this?
the varieties found online are incredible
i am stewing - 
on hearing this, a colleague said to me,
'it's like your gf leaving u for another bloke
only for her to hang around your house for 
a few more days.'
i said to him, 
'it's not like that at all.'

Boiling Pot Of Anger

You don't need to swear and cuss
Making such a big loud fuss
Calm down, take a breath
You are scaring me to death
I know your angers coming through
Because of what he did to you
You are mad and really shaking
Your anger is hotly baking
Into a burning black pit
From this disturbing violent fit
There's smoke coming from your head
There is not a single shred
Of peace or calmness down inside
All your nerves are badly fried
 Stewing in a pot of hatred
Too far gone to even shake this
Your bloods like a pot of water
Boiling till its even hotter
Than the suns rays shining down
There's a madness all around
Circling you in a heat 
Until you are too far beat
To repair the damage of  
A sleazy cheating awful love

witch Ginger

She had spells other witches only dreamed of doing.
Her pot was full of exotic homemade recipes she had stewing.
Her spells were legendary, her ingenuity was amazing.
Goats, cows and chickens were in her kitchen, grazing.

She calls the animals, and they come, bending to her will.
A cardinal and rooster just flew into her open windowsill.
What concoctions will she invent today? The other witches wonder.
She brings on a storm complete with lightning and thunder.

Chai Tea, Vanilla

"Chai Tea, Vanilla: Writing it All"


We are a cauldron
steeped, stewing bitter,
unlike sweet chai tea

boiling 
and bubbling,
our reality, 

is hard
to swallow.

how do we live
with ourselves,
knowing,

we live
complacently?
we observe,

we write, 

we watch it all,
the killing of 
innocence,

the black
and white
of it all;

the death 
of a dream.
before the end, 

the war
begins 
it all.

the future of
our children:
we watch it all.

we watch it all. 
we take notes,
we journal, 

the poetry 
of it all.

do we make 
changes?
do we? 

do we, 
do
anything, at all?

writing it all.

We are a cauldron
steeped, stewing bitter,
unlike sweet chai tea. 

we are so
Vanilla,
do we do 

anything?

writing it all? 

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)







John 1 (NIV). 






"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." 

Lux Vitae.

Deserves This Pain

She is still mad just stewing over this everything that has happened. When ever she gets upset over anything or doesn't understand something the brown eye girl writes it out or does something to focus her anger. But this time is too much and she knows. All the brown eye girl wants is answers is that too much to ask? She needs closer to things. But instead she gets told she uses people for whatever reason. If the green eye man knew her really knew her he wouldn't have said that. He knows that isn't true how she really cared for him and he threw it away like it was nothing. It felt like he ripped out her heart without a second thought. So cold and cruel to do that. How many lies he has told her, he helped her through the perfect best friend's death and now he is throwing her away like a used bottle. If anyone used someone it was him using her. After everything that has happened her heart still wants him even though all he has ever done it was tear it in little pieces. Now the brown eye wonders if there is something wrong with her to deserve this kind of pain?

The Sky Has Gills

Broken-hearted are the tree limbs,
General Flooding surveys the wreckage
blames a subversive sky.

Gamely, the peg-legged scarecrow
salutes the wavy navy
while they row on by
in their bathtub parade.

It's a fine day under water,
cats are stewing poems
in a bobbing blue barrel;
words drip from their whiskers.

Ducks flop their slippery wings
as oily drums grease
their oily bones.
Rowdy are the gulls
that pipe the rain ashore,

it's as if the blocked-up
boggy landlubbers
had Mackerel eyes,
or as if the sky had gills
and needed more.

Zestful

Zestful
Beneath a weeping willow tree
Shielded by its canopy of leaf
Two lovers found sweet serenity 
Zestful to share love in ecstasy.

Sadly a vicious storm was brewing
Both their zestful hearts began stewing
Thunder clapped and lightning struck the tree
The sweethearts too, they died instantly.

Forlorn the couple took off in flight
Into the darkness of sky at night
Flying to unknown territory
To dwell in everlasting glory.

The pair were eventually found 
They’d decayed into the underground 
Their loving souls live on tenderly
Entwined in heaven's grace zestfully.

The tree recovered its heart still beats
Often sadly the willow tree weeps
Never before in its history 
Has it known such zestful tragedy.

*+*+*+*

12th May 2023

Writing Challenge - 'Z' Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Word choice no.10 - Zestful

Retreat From Defeat

My mind is moving and brewing towards improving/
The heart finds pathways stewing me to be nurturing/
Lives in this part bind fast ways of learning/
Strife in this heart grinds for days I’m deserving/
Brief is the restart of times that’ll be concerning/
Relief gives a depart from jives people may be concocting/
Believe it’s smart to stop and strive before any con locking/
He heaves pits apart through slop addicted prone docking/
Be free and forget dirt thrown or mishaps that have afflicted/
Bad bees sting everywhere deep, what are you a resident in?/
Can’t leave everything and everywhere or avoid feelings more sore/
Lent a reprieve and sent a report to raise noise ceilings for score/
Said I’d see if it’d be agreed to resort to a choice retort/
I need to retreat from the heap of defeat I used to call home peak/
Otherwise I’ll seep in defeat and be seated bleak not so unique/
I’d cover my eyes and ears with a fleet of apathy to keep/
I discovered all advice smart heeded to me I would be cheap and pay no attention/
Now uncovered is a nice, respectful style with more compassion to forgo tension

I Could Sit Around and Bemoan

I could sit around and bemoan our country’s woes
Pessimistically wrestle with the problems we face,
Convince myself that all is lost, in our death throes
See only a lousy future for the whole human race,

I could spend time thinking about what seems wrong
Perhaps, forgetting wars and disasters of the past
Spend my time berating the present with a sad song.
Stewing about just how long we as a nation will last.

But, I still see promise in that “shining city on a hill,”
I see the glass as half full, and sunrise in the morning
We’ve survived wars and depressions, going strong still
The times, yes, they are changing, new ways aborning.

For every Donald Trump, I believe there is a Liz Cheney
Who is standing up for truth and the American way,
Good things in our country, convinced there are plenty
I will stand up for our America … forever and a day! 

Written July 26, 2022

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