Stirring my cake mix with my wooden laddle, I look to my right and see my sister doing the same with hers. Baking goodies for Christmas every year has become a tradition of ours.
The wind was stirring…my hair whipping around my face like Medusa’s ferocious snakes. Why did he lead me out here? A better question…why did I let him?
“It’s just a little bit father.” he grunted, barely loud enough to cancel out the uproarious wind around us. I don’t know why I trust him yet, but I do so as we inched deeper into the forest I stood by his side. I guess I had to find out soon enough.
You stir and stir away endlessly just trying to please a family for Thanksgiving, you waste all your weeks trying to decorate and prepare your meals, when it all ends in less than 5 hours.
You stir and stir to make loads of delicious treats to share with your friends.
“stir the soup, please” she called from the other room. it was getting close to the time guests were scheduled to arrive and she still had curlers in her hair and slippers on. i loved nights like this, happy to help out in the kitchen preparing for the glamorus dinner party to come.
she mixed her body with a kind of stir that was unbelievable. she couldnt stop dancing. the wind in her hair. the stars shone on her bright body. he couldnt stop looking at her with anticipation of the love that they would have together. if she would just have him.
I stir my soup as I sit here and watch the pot boil. I would love to taste my throw-together, but it’s too hot. I don’t have a small spoon handy. I stop stirring and go to the silverware drawer. I open it to find it empty. My next thought is to run to the dishwasher before my soup boils over.
I took a deep breath and fell underneath the water line. Sounds were muffled; edges blurred. With seconds left until I had to swim up, I thanked the stirring waters for the temporary relief from my life. Below the waves, I could imagine nothing was wrong. My lungs screamed, and I heard my mouth gasping for air. There I was.
When he walked into the party, it created quite a stir. “Why is he here”, she thought to herself.
Some of them were her friends but he still had a connection to some of them. Some connections were deeper than others.
She tossed and turned in the dead of night, unable to sleep. She kept thinking. Thinking about everything. Why was it so difficult? So confusing? Nothing made sense anymore. She got up, slowly, to avoid waking her mom the next room over, slipping on her rope and creeping downstairs.
when you mix up the ingredients that you are using to make delicious holiday cookies or festive brownies or home made cakes with your mom or your grandma and it is a great time to bond and get closer to everyone. you get a warm feeling in your heart
Peter stirred the soft soup above the fire. He looked to John with somber eyes that were somehow filled with the lissome light of the morning. It was Sunday, and it was morning; perfect time for a run.
You stir the pot of contempt
And taste the bitterness of defeat
How do you survive on sour bile
When destruction could be as sweet
Bury your tortured soul in seething
Hollow your actions and groans
You are just a black heart beating
Within a wrinkled sack of bones
stirrings in the world are finally coming to this town. it takes a long time for change to wind its way down the tangled paths that lead here. isolation keeps us safe, but life here is stagnant.
Stirring, stirring, beneath the heavy blanket of snow, beneath the cloudless sky, beneath the cold, unfeeling heavens, I am stirring. There is rage in my heart burning off the fear and insecurity and my wings unfurl, shaking ice from their tips, and I am reborn in frozen fire.
While you sit there, I stir my coffee. Slowly. Carefully. I stir and stir. Suddenly my fingers slip from the cup and the coffee spills. Just like my life.
Stir it! there’s no need to go back to where we came from! you don’t knwo anything aobut me! so shut up and stir it! this is the only meal we’ll have in a while, o you0d better make it last. You’d better make it god. No, I’m not crying. So stp asking, and stop looking at me. Water? there’s nothing wrong with the water, just drink it. For me.
You stir in the nutmeg, speck by speck, drifting cinnamon on your teeth. Spitting white spots out from the corner of your mouth. Your brother sits in the living room, watching a decade-old sitcom. The laughter is tinny. Like calling someone through a can and a string connected to a live telephone wire.
“When will they be ready?” he calls over to you. You sigh.
“An hour.”
“Good. I want them for the office party tomorrow.”
She looked down at the cookbook that sat at her side, hands still gripping onto the spoon as she slowly stirred the pot. Inside, a liquid flowed around the wooden utensil, ignoring the obstacle and following the path created.
Before therer is a moment where everything is seperate, you choose to leave this standing you choose to leave me out, so please please lets shake it up and argue ytil our lungs give out this is what it is all about I’m not okay with just sitting back. How we left is not fine.
The witch chuckled gleefully as she stirred her cauldron. “The children will taste so good in this soup.” She cackles. “All I have to do is convince them to come over for dinner.”
The culdron bubbles. The witch hackles. “The children will taste sooo good in this soup.” Sh purrs. “Now all I have to do is “convince” them to come over for dinner.” she says gleefully.
I think of emotions. Anything that reaches my senses brings up emotions from yesterday, ten years ago. I am forced to examine where they fall in my body. And I am okay with that. Everything that happens leaves me with the emotions swimming within me.
the stirring of one’s mind creates something so exponentially great that it cannot fully be described. the stirring of one’s soul results in such a greatness that one cannot fully know until they themselves experience it. the stirring of one’s heart equals something so much greater than all of us.
When I see him next week it will be the first time in months. I feel a stirring in my gut.
I’ve missed you, I think. Have you missed me?
Now the blush is creeping to my hairline. Oh great. Even if I didn’t say the words out loud, he will still hear them loud and clear. But he can’t know. He can never know because it’s just not the same anymore.
She gently stirred her coffee, smiling down absentmindedly at it. The whipped cream on the top mixed easily with the milky brown liquid beneath it, and she sighed happily. The best part of coffee was the scent.
Her stomach stirred. Did they see her? Is she safe? How long can she keep this up? This secret shreds her apart. She can’t take it anymore. She’s broken. Her thoughts strangle her. As her head spins with all these thoughts she hears an ominous voice behind her. She has been caught.
The watched pot never —
What?
I said the watched —
I know what you said. It’s just Quantum Mechanics.
I know.
I know.
I stir.
I wait.
It never boils.
I open my eyes.
One, two lumps of sugar in the cigarette-tasting diner coffee. Stir. Sip. Make that three. Grease stains smear his rumpled shirt, and his hair seems to have been the stage of a tap-dancing cat. Right foot shakes beneath the table. Finger taps counter. The diner door jingles. The waitress screams. Thick red pools.
my emotions stir up a large storm inside me.
will this be how my life ends, with no friends no loved ones and no family will this be how i set my life up,? just so it can come falling down?…
yes
Stirring my cake mix with my wooden laddle, I look to my right and see my sister doing the same with hers. Baking goodies for Christmas every year has become a tradition of ours.
The stir created by the news of his arrest spread throughout the town quickly. Some people could hardly believe it was safe to walk the streets again.
The wind was stirring…my hair whipping around my face like Medusa’s ferocious snakes. Why did he lead me out here? A better question…why did I let him?
“It’s just a little bit father.” he grunted, barely loud enough to cancel out the uproarious wind around us. I don’t know why I trust him yet, but I do so as we inched deeper into the forest I stood by his side. I guess I had to find out soon enough.
You stir and stir away endlessly just trying to please a family for Thanksgiving, you waste all your weeks trying to decorate and prepare your meals, when it all ends in less than 5 hours.
You stir and stir to make loads of delicious treats to share with your friends.
“stir the soup, please” she called from the other room. it was getting close to the time guests were scheduled to arrive and she still had curlers in her hair and slippers on. i loved nights like this, happy to help out in the kitchen preparing for the glamorus dinner party to come.
I stir my soup in the morning of December.
she mixed her body with a kind of stir that was unbelievable. she couldnt stop dancing. the wind in her hair. the stars shone on her bright body. he couldnt stop looking at her with anticipation of the love that they would have together. if she would just have him.
I stir my soup as I sit here and watch the pot boil. I would love to taste my throw-together, but it’s too hot. I don’t have a small spoon handy. I stop stirring and go to the silverware drawer. I open it to find it empty. My next thought is to run to the dishwasher before my soup boils over.
I took a deep breath and fell underneath the water line. Sounds were muffled; edges blurred. With seconds left until I had to swim up, I thanked the stirring waters for the temporary relief from my life. Below the waves, I could imagine nothing was wrong. My lungs screamed, and I heard my mouth gasping for air. There I was.
My bathtub looked the same as always.
john was stirring Carrie up again and i didn’t like it. he was just playing but it started to get mean.
When he walked into the party, it created quite a stir. “Why is he here”, she thought to herself.
Some of them were her friends but he still had a connection to some of them. Some connections were deeper than others.
to stir something is fun. sometimes i stir a cake mix for cake, sometimes people stir up trouble for attention. what type of world do we live in?
She tossed and turned in the dead of night, unable to sleep. She kept thinking. Thinking about everything. Why was it so difficult? So confusing? Nothing made sense anymore. She got up, slowly, to avoid waking her mom the next room over, slipping on her rope and creeping downstairs.
when you mix up the ingredients that you are using to make delicious holiday cookies or festive brownies or home made cakes with your mom or your grandma and it is a great time to bond and get closer to everyone. you get a warm feeling in your heart
One by one we fall, into the pot that mixes us all. Soaking, stirring, spinning, swimming. Molding together the souls of the willing.
Peter stirred the soft soup above the fire. He looked to John with somber eyes that were somehow filled with the lissome light of the morning. It was Sunday, and it was morning; perfect time for a run.
You stir the pot of contempt
And taste the bitterness of defeat
How do you survive on sour bile
When destruction could be as sweet
Bury your tortured soul in seething
Hollow your actions and groans
You are just a black heart beating
Within a wrinkled sack of bones
stirrings in the world are finally coming to this town. it takes a long time for change to wind its way down the tangled paths that lead here. isolation keeps us safe, but life here is stagnant.
Stirring, stirring, beneath the heavy blanket of snow, beneath the cloudless sky, beneath the cold, unfeeling heavens, I am stirring. There is rage in my heart burning off the fear and insecurity and my wings unfurl, shaking ice from their tips, and I am reborn in frozen fire.
While you sit there, I stir my coffee. Slowly. Carefully. I stir and stir. Suddenly my fingers slip from the cup and the coffee spills. Just like my life.
His purr stirred her lust in the most potent way.
Stir it! there’s no need to go back to where we came from! you don’t knwo anything aobut me! so shut up and stir it! this is the only meal we’ll have in a while, o you0d better make it last. You’d better make it god. No, I’m not crying. So stp asking, and stop looking at me. Water? there’s nothing wrong with the water, just drink it. For me.
You stir in the nutmeg, speck by speck, drifting cinnamon on your teeth. Spitting white spots out from the corner of your mouth. Your brother sits in the living room, watching a decade-old sitcom. The laughter is tinny. Like calling someone through a can and a string connected to a live telephone wire.
“When will they be ready?” he calls over to you. You sigh.
“An hour.”
“Good. I want them for the office party tomorrow.”
She looked down at the cookbook that sat at her side, hands still gripping onto the spoon as she slowly stirred the pot. Inside, a liquid flowed around the wooden utensil, ignoring the obstacle and following the path created.
Before therer is a moment where everything is seperate, you choose to leave this standing you choose to leave me out, so please please lets shake it up and argue ytil our lungs give out this is what it is all about I’m not okay with just sitting back. How we left is not fine.
Stir now or you die!
I don’t wannadie. (incoherent sobbing)
Stir!
You’re so cruel
The witch chuckled gleefully as she stirred her cauldron. “The children will taste so good in this soup.” She cackles. “All I have to do is convince them to come over for dinner.”
The culdron bubbles. The witch hackles. “The children will taste sooo good in this soup.” Sh purrs. “Now all I have to do is “convince” them to come over for dinner.” she says gleefully.
Stir the milk careful my mother warns. “I will.” I retort angerly . She treats me like a child. I spill the milk. “F@@@”
I think of emotions. Anything that reaches my senses brings up emotions from yesterday, ten years ago. I am forced to examine where they fall in my body. And I am okay with that. Everything that happens leaves me with the emotions swimming within me.
the stirring of one’s mind creates something so exponentially great that it cannot fully be described. the stirring of one’s soul results in such a greatness that one cannot fully know until they themselves experience it. the stirring of one’s heart equals something so much greater than all of us.
When I see him next week it will be the first time in months. I feel a stirring in my gut.
I’ve missed you, I think. Have you missed me?
Now the blush is creeping to my hairline. Oh great. Even if I didn’t say the words out loud, he will still hear them loud and clear. But he can’t know. He can never know because it’s just not the same anymore.
She gently stirred her coffee, smiling down absentmindedly at it. The whipped cream on the top mixed easily with the milky brown liquid beneath it, and she sighed happily. The best part of coffee was the scent.
Her stomach stirred. Did they see her? Is she safe? How long can she keep this up? This secret shreds her apart. She can’t take it anymore. She’s broken. Her thoughts strangle her. As her head spins with all these thoughts she hears an ominous voice behind her. She has been caught.
To mix, shake, bake, cook, pull something up, blend, pull over,
The watched pot never —
What?
I said the watched —
I know what you said. It’s just Quantum Mechanics.
I know.
I know.
I stir.
I wait.
It never boils.
I open my eyes.
i really wanna open a Christmas present early because everyone else got to. i just got my tonsils removed yesterday.
One, two lumps of sugar in the cigarette-tasting diner coffee. Stir. Sip. Make that three. Grease stains smear his rumpled shirt, and his hair seems to have been the stage of a tap-dancing cat. Right foot shakes beneath the table. Finger taps counter. The diner door jingles. The waitress screams. Thick red pools.
Stirring up some one’s emotions. That is not nice.
Stirring up feelings you should have left alone.
What is your problem?
Was it worth it? I don’t know.
From where I am standing it wasn’t.
It just hurts.
my emotions stir up a large storm inside me.
will this be how my life ends, with no friends no loved ones and no family will this be how i set my life up,? just so it can come falling down?…
yes