Cooking, this word reminds me of all of the times I have cooked with my family. Especially making homemade soup, chili, or spaghetti sauce with my Grandma, who believes there is nothing better than homemade spaghetti sauce. It is practically illegal to buy the store bought sauce.
stir me frnt to back
around
keep it bubbling keep it ground
tight as lovers
swift as their feet
stir me heart my soul
my beat
watch me feel
the intense waves
you stir
we stir
he stirs in his grave
stir it up. mix it up. let it change. keep it how it is. whatever way you stir it, the product will be the same. The only way it will be different is if you add new ingredients or thoughts
mmmm stir me up! i wanna feel your lovin’ from the chimney top. the way you taste is too cool, your pepermint stick is nice to lick. meet me under the missle toe?
mix omg what is this i am going to stir you up stir ups are those a thing i hope so what else goes with stir i feel like woody from toy story has stir ups on his boots are those that or idk like maybe i will stir the soup can you stir soup idk maybe i like soup but i dont really what am i even doing.
I stirred violently and the brownie mix reacted by spraying out of the bowl and onto my brand new white sweater. “Why would you do this? What is wrong with you?” He boomed from the next room over.
The butterflies in my stomach awoke and stirred when I saw him walking down the hall towards me. I twisted my lock combination and tried to remind myself to breathe. He’s a normal person. Don’t freak out about it. Breathe.
Bubbling, humming, sizzling, spiciness permeates the air, bringing the hint of clove and magic. I savor the scent, but keep my attention on my potions, stirring carefully to make sure everything stays properly mixed up. This is my favorite part of the day.
arousal; roused.
up lifting like cranes erecting skyscrapers
butterfly kiss on collarbone
deep pull in bellies as we collapse
towerlike onto snowfield sheets
The water stired with a demented swirl as the deep threatend to swallow the boat whole. I looked into the sky above and saw only a promise of wind and a torrent of rain.
I feel my toes stirring in the sand. The air is light like a wisp of cream on top of an ice cream sundae. The tide draws the water closer and closer each minute. I see the people walking around with gloriously colorful umbrellas to keep their pure pale hue and some bearing the brutal wrath of the sun, lubed up in sun-tan lotion. For a moment I can tune out the fray. The kiss of the waves and a far-away seagull are all that I hear.
i mixed a pot of mashed potatoes with an icicle. it turned out to be quite delicious. i invited my friend kit to eat it with me but he didnt show up, i went to look for him.
Stir the pot. Mix things up. Put somethin’ real nice up in my cup. Get a little crazy, take a couple shots. Girl you got me nervous got my stomach up in knots. That’s how I know it’s real, baby how you feel? Wanna know the deal, tell me what’s real.
The last time I saw my mother – she died while I was abroad – she stood with her back to me mixing apples and brown sugar and flour in a bowl in preparation for a pie she’d intended to make. She was a wreck then, my father having just left her, and she in the midst of moving out of their home and into the same apartment complex as my aunt downtown, and she kept forgetting she’d packed most of the kitchenware (spices and sugars included) as she stared at the boxes in the living room trying to remember where she’d put things. Jonathan, she said, not turning around to greet me, I need sugar and my pie pans. I think, I think they’re in one of the boxes marked – something, I can’t remember – Will you just see if you can find it for me? I walked around her and dropped to my knees in the living room, pulling my keys out of my pocket so I could cut through the hastily applied tape, and to my right my mother began crying. She eventually slid to floor, the bowl almost being knocked off the counter, and I pretended not to hear her sobs as tried to make as much noise as I could rummaging through every artifact of what used to be her life.
it wasn’t till I looked at the bottom of the mug
too late I suppose, consider myself lucky… don’t make the same mistake next time
at least I wasn’t dead
yet
who knows
maybe
“Stir gently.” The instructions read. “Add one flower and one old piece of paper. Shake.” I hated this class, making poison, making potions. They were one and the same, for anything can be used for bad if it is in the right hands.
In the wake of an endless silence, here is the feeling again.
The morning, the mist, the moon.
A silent sun sinks her fingers into the horizon, and for a moment the coating of frost on fingers feels thinner than I had dreamed. Inside my chest, a foreign heartbeat stirs.
The sauce needed a good stir. I could smell it burning from where I sat in the living room. Mom wasn’t going to stir it though, she was too busy yelling at dad on the phone from the front porch. Dinner was going to be ruined. Again.
She added a bit of sugar, stirred the soup awhile before bringing the spoon to her lips to taste, cocking her one side as the flavors played across her tongue.
I loved watching her cook. Sometimes, I felt a bit creepy, but I couldn’t help but be fascinated by her movements and her surety. I think those early days, that was what most attracted me to Diana. When she got into a kitchen, she rolled up her sleeves and got to work, and somehow was able to take a few seemingly random ingredients and make them into something magical.
Stir. oh yes, I love that word. To stir a stew is to hamp a crew dew, at the newest hair do. I dont guess it’s a hardworking bomb, but gotta see how long it takes for it to explode. So what the deal
i stirred the pot full of macaroni. i was planning on making a delicious sauce, but got lazy, and used cheap sauce from a jar. why am i so lazy? why don’t i take the time to put nutritious and delicious food on my plate?
stiring is fun especially when making pie. pie is super good and spoons are used to stir. you also stir brownies. i guess you could say that stirring is an important part of baking anything and everything. stiring is what makes the matter go round.
I stir the ingredients of my life and i know i will either end up with a masterpiece or a disaster. i know it is up to me. it always is. i live my life to the most and hope for the best.
food in a pan, possibly chicken soup with those bits in it, that my mum sieved out when i was younger because i was ill. I really wanted those bits as they are the best. they remind of me of this boy from my childminder who i think my sister liked!
He stirs in his sleep. The overwhelming guilt has weighed heavy on his soul lo these many days. He tells himself that it wasn’t his fault, that she should have been wearing brighter clothes, that she should not have been crossing the street, that the two-and-a-half drinks didn’t impair his reaction speed; but he always fails to convince himself. His current insomnia is a mild punishment to say the least.
stir when you want to mix up some interesting concoction, stir up some chaos when bored, stir the stew and keep it warm, stir the hornets nest to make them swarm
To stir. You can stir inthe sense of cooking, like stirring dough for bread. However you can also “stir things up” which can be anything from adding some extra sugar in your coffee to moving somewhere exotic.
stir when you want to mix up ingredients in some odd concoction, stir up some chaos when bored, you always knew how to stir me up, stir the stew and keep it warm, stir the hornets nest to make them swarm
Stir until smooth. But not too smooth. It has to have some lumps in it. Pour into cake pan, and place in pre-heated oven. Take out when golden brown. Let it cool. Frost once cooled. Eat alone, and try not to cry.
stir in the butter
stir your hips, not for them
for yourself
stir up trouble, without thinking about the consequences
because who really thinks about the consequences
Cooking, this word reminds me of all of the times I have cooked with my family. Especially making homemade soup, chili, or spaghetti sauce with my Grandma, who believes there is nothing better than homemade spaghetti sauce. It is practically illegal to buy the store bought sauce.
stir me frnt to back
around
keep it bubbling keep it ground
tight as lovers
swift as their feet
stir me heart my soul
my beat
watch me feel
the intense waves
you stir
we stir
he stirs in his grave
seven seconds and the smoke begins to rise. curling like the dark of your hair over a shoulder. breathing slow, swirl and the light changes.
stir it up. mix it up. let it change. keep it how it is. whatever way you stir it, the product will be the same. The only way it will be different is if you add new ingredients or thoughts
mmmm stir me up! i wanna feel your lovin’ from the chimney top. the way you taste is too cool, your pepermint stick is nice to lick. meet me under the missle toe?
mix omg what is this i am going to stir you up stir ups are those a thing i hope so what else goes with stir i feel like woody from toy story has stir ups on his boots are those that or idk like maybe i will stir the soup can you stir soup idk maybe i like soup but i dont really what am i even doing.
food, cakes, make different, round, spoon, upset, unsettle, mix,
I think of mixing cakes. I think of unsettling things.
I stirred violently and the brownie mix reacted by spraying out of the bowl and onto my brand new white sweater. “Why would you do this? What is wrong with you?” He boomed from the next room over.
The butterflies in my stomach awoke and stirred when I saw him walking down the hall towards me. I twisted my lock combination and tried to remind myself to breathe. He’s a normal person. Don’t freak out about it. Breathe.
Bubbling, humming, sizzling, spiciness permeates the air, bringing the hint of clove and magic. I savor the scent, but keep my attention on my potions, stirring carefully to make sure everything stays properly mixed up. This is my favorite part of the day.
arousal; roused.
up lifting like cranes erecting skyscrapers
butterfly kiss on collarbone
deep pull in bellies as we collapse
towerlike onto snowfield sheets
The water stired with a demented swirl as the deep threatend to swallow the boat whole. I looked into the sky above and saw only a promise of wind and a torrent of rain.
I feel my toes stirring in the sand. The air is light like a wisp of cream on top of an ice cream sundae. The tide draws the water closer and closer each minute. I see the people walking around with gloriously colorful umbrellas to keep their pure pale hue and some bearing the brutal wrath of the sun, lubed up in sun-tan lotion. For a moment I can tune out the fray. The kiss of the waves and a far-away seagull are all that I hear.
i mixed a pot of mashed potatoes with an icicle. it turned out to be quite delicious. i invited my friend kit to eat it with me but he didnt show up, i went to look for him.
Stir the pot. Mix things up. Put somethin’ real nice up in my cup. Get a little crazy, take a couple shots. Girl you got me nervous got my stomach up in knots. That’s how I know it’s real, baby how you feel? Wanna know the deal, tell me what’s real.
Ohh the feelings stirred within me what do I say? What do I do? AHHHHHHH
The last time I saw my mother – she died while I was abroad – she stood with her back to me mixing apples and brown sugar and flour in a bowl in preparation for a pie she’d intended to make. She was a wreck then, my father having just left her, and she in the midst of moving out of their home and into the same apartment complex as my aunt downtown, and she kept forgetting she’d packed most of the kitchenware (spices and sugars included) as she stared at the boxes in the living room trying to remember where she’d put things. Jonathan, she said, not turning around to greet me, I need sugar and my pie pans. I think, I think they’re in one of the boxes marked – something, I can’t remember – Will you just see if you can find it for me? I walked around her and dropped to my knees in the living room, pulling my keys out of my pocket so I could cut through the hastily applied tape, and to my right my mother began crying. She eventually slid to floor, the bowl almost being knocked off the counter, and I pretended not to hear her sobs as tried to make as much noise as I could rummaging through every artifact of what used to be her life.
it wasn’t till I looked at the bottom of the mug
too late I suppose, consider myself lucky… don’t make the same mistake next time
at least I wasn’t dead
yet
who knows
maybe
“Stir gently.” The instructions read. “Add one flower and one old piece of paper. Shake.” I hated this class, making poison, making potions. They were one and the same, for anything can be used for bad if it is in the right hands.
I could stir my brain with a stick.
The insides sticking, coagulating,
congealing.
The gray matter reflecting
the gray world
that holds me captive.
As I looked out the window, I couldn’t help but stir at the discomfort within myself. A mid-December day, raining like it’s May.
In the wake of an endless silence, here is the feeling again.
The morning, the mist, the moon.
A silent sun sinks her fingers into the horizon, and for a moment the coating of frost on fingers feels thinner than I had dreamed. Inside my chest, a foreign heartbeat stirs.
The sauce needed a good stir. I could smell it burning from where I sat in the living room. Mom wasn’t going to stir it though, she was too busy yelling at dad on the phone from the front porch. Dinner was going to be ruined. Again.
She added a bit of sugar, stirred the soup awhile before bringing the spoon to her lips to taste, cocking her one side as the flavors played across her tongue.
I loved watching her cook. Sometimes, I felt a bit creepy, but I couldn’t help but be fascinated by her movements and her surety. I think those early days, that was what most attracted me to Diana. When she got into a kitchen, she rolled up her sleeves and got to work, and somehow was able to take a few seemingly random ingredients and make them into something magical.
Eyes
Stir. oh yes, I love that word. To stir a stew is to hamp a crew dew, at the newest hair do. I dont guess it’s a hardworking bomb, but gotta see how long it takes for it to explode. So what the deal
stir crazy
i stirred the pot full of macaroni. i was planning on making a delicious sauce, but got lazy, and used cheap sauce from a jar. why am i so lazy? why don’t i take the time to put nutritious and delicious food on my plate?
stir bake YUM
stiring is fun especially when making pie. pie is super good and spoons are used to stir. you also stir brownies. i guess you could say that stirring is an important part of baking anything and everything. stiring is what makes the matter go round.
I stir the ingredients of my life and i know i will either end up with a masterpiece or a disaster. i know it is up to me. it always is. i live my life to the most and hope for the best.
food in a pan, possibly chicken soup with those bits in it, that my mum sieved out when i was younger because i was ill. I really wanted those bits as they are the best. they remind of me of this boy from my childminder who i think my sister liked!
He stirs in his sleep. The overwhelming guilt has weighed heavy on his soul lo these many days. He tells himself that it wasn’t his fault, that she should have been wearing brighter clothes, that she should not have been crossing the street, that the two-and-a-half drinks didn’t impair his reaction speed; but he always fails to convince himself. His current insomnia is a mild punishment to say the least.
You can stir ones emotions up. Why do people feel that it is okay to continually stir, and ignore? Take responsibility for your actions, my friend.
stir when you want to mix up some interesting concoction, stir up some chaos when bored, stir the stew and keep it warm, stir the hornets nest to make them swarm
To stir. You can stir inthe sense of cooking, like stirring dough for bread. However you can also “stir things up” which can be anything from adding some extra sugar in your coffee to moving somewhere exotic.
stir when you want to mix up ingredients in some odd concoction, stir up some chaos when bored, you always knew how to stir me up, stir the stew and keep it warm, stir the hornets nest to make them swarm
Stir until smooth. But not too smooth. It has to have some lumps in it. Pour into cake pan, and place in pre-heated oven. Take out when golden brown. Let it cool. Frost once cooled. Eat alone, and try not to cry.
cooking stirring and boiling over i don’t know how to make much with stirring other than mac and cheese recipes are useful…
stir in the butter
stir your hips, not for them
for yourself
stir up trouble, without thinking about the consequences
because who really thinks about the consequences