a red, flying object. Sometimes blue or yellow, or maybe even pink. A child’s plaything. One of my earliest memories is my balloon, my new, acquired treasure, flying away from me. What a shame.
Sometimes she’d get anxious when she saw her puppy lying down, his tongue out on the cold floor, his chest barely heaving, and she’d get even more anxious when she couldn’t see him, and she could call him but he wouldn’t answer because his ears had never worked at all. So she’d resolved to tying a red balloon to his collar every morning, and was very happy – not to hear his footsteps padding around her, since her ears had never worked at all either – but to see the red balloon floating around her table, her bed, her chair, all around the house.
balloon is elastic
it floats in air
it soars
sack of air
hot air balloon or helium balloon?
pink blue black red balloons
birthday balloons
I don’t know what i’m writing
Happiness in a ball of air.
I couldn’t describe my fascination
as I watched you
observed this simplistic,
amazed
ecstasy on your face.
I don’t want you to grow up.
Sometimes you have to let things go.
I stood in the street and realized that love is about admiration, not possession.
I’ll find myself forever wanting what once was, but because change is the only definite concept in life.. I came to terms with the fact that you have to adapt to loss. Forever is a myth in the reality which we exist.
There’s a little speck floating in the sky. It could be the free floating balloon of a child now in tears, or a bird in the distance, lost and alone. It could be a speck on my glasses, or something in my eye, but it could also be a helicopter or airplane.
There are a million ways to see things from a distance. It’s only when we silence the world around us and look closer that we can see the truth clearly.
as a young girl i rarely played with balloons although we always had them whenever there was abirthday party. i onve rembere how my mamu surprised me and braought p[ractivcally a million balloons along with him. me and my coisins ahda an awesome time blowing them up.
She lay helpless on the bed, a million tubes hooked to her peaceful body. My trembling fingers grasped her warm hands, I raised my tear stained face as the doctor walked in. He made promises of a new experimental balloon procedure which could save her life, bring her back to me. It could be inserted into her heart and she could live! I glanced at my mother who was next of kin and had to make the call. As usual she just shrugged, not a care in the world. My tears of sadness began to burn with rage. I screamed DO IT! DO IT! SAVE HER! Finally my selfish mother nodded and they came for her, taking my Grandma into emergency surgery. I paced the room, tears and prayers keeping me company as my mother flipped through the tv channels. Suddenly my heart quickened at the sound of the doctor. My legs heavy with dread as I watched them wheel her back into the room. Something was wrong. The balloon procedure couldn’t be done. Within minutes my life changed forever as I lost the one person who truly ever loved me, accepted me, my only true family.
light falling through the breeze entering the tunnel of darkness with a mellow orange light at the end shining. Floats and gets pricked by a sharp stone. Falls flat on top of a fire illuminating the dark tunnel at the end.
Ninety-nine were once let go,
Demonstrating folly
Of the silent war and wall of stone,
Puppetmastering all. We
Now release our own legion
Of colors multitudinous,
To reflect the barriers now gone,
Towards the goal that yet awaits us.
pretty balloons, lots of balloons, floating in the sky. All the children below laugh and clap their hands. They are enjoying the end of my son’s birthday party. We had a lot of fun and games for the children. The best way to know whether your party has been a success or not is to see the smiles on the children’s faces. The balloons were the last bit, and quite the icing on the cake!
The balloon floated high into the air with little care for the anguish of the child who had let it go. It has seemed to him that the thing wanted so desperately to be free, bobbing this way and that in the wind, that there was no other ethical choice but to oblige it. Now that he had, however, he rather regretted it. He wondered briefly how high it would climb.
I saw the balloon rise in the sky, big and red. Drifting through the air currents with no real direction. I thought, some child must be sad that they had let it go, slip out of their tiny palm. Or maybe, a birthday party was a bit less decorated, having lost that shiny red balloon to the clouds.
as a child i hav always fantasied ballons,,they come in different colors,,it brings nostalgia in me,,,,the colors and the way they make u proud as achild,,,,u think of all the lovely times u played and enjoyed.
I told her I didn’t want to go up. Some things we do for those we love. Afraid of the heights, afraid of the fall. Visions of the fall. Visions of floating away with her forever.
I don’t know where it’s going, but I don’t know where I am going either. It’s so far away but I know if I tried, I could reach it – but do I want to?
where is it going
where am I
save me.
floating and i dont know how to get it back. too far and too fast but at the same time it is within reach – what is stopping me? you? nothing? up and up like everything else and i cant, i cant,
save me.
fly away in the sky further and further away. Red ballon followed that child in that film where ever he went bounce bounce. They carried that house away in up. I’d like a balloon to carry me away
I was excited to go up in the air in the balloon with my friends. Thoughts of danger had entered my mind and try as hard as I could I just could not shelved them away.
I had to pull over and watch when I saw them from highway. The airport had long been abandoned by conventional planes, but for today it appeared it was becoming a launch pad for balloons. I counted five in all, spread across the ground in a myriad of stages of taking in air. People chattered, some huddling with coffee against the chill of the early morning. Their faces glowed with rosy cheeks and smiles. Their eyes held a mix of concentration, excitement, and a glassy awe. They smiled at me and greeted me with hellos and nods. There was one individual talking to the group, and I realized I had stumbled into some kind of group or club meeting. There was a review of checking gadgets, importance of weather awareness, guidance discussions for various conditions. At least half of the balloons were in partial fill stance with colors splayed across the ground everywhere. Bold primary colors in herringbone zigzags, contrasting stripes of colors, squares bonded together like magical quilts—soon to be magic carpets and riding baskets on adventures. Leaving them to their tasks and prep, I chided myself for not having a camera at my side. Later after work and phones and the pressures of the day, video captures on the local news instantly breathed air into my weary spirit again. The view of their colored bulbs floating above buildings and highways turned an ordinary day, once again, into something magical. My day and mind held still at long last watching the airborne balloons perform an enchanting ballet beneath a blue sky dotted with clouds, silently coasting with birds and breeze and beauty on display all around around them. Even though I could only witness their flight though the looking glass in my livingroom, my heart soared with them in wonder reveling in their ballooned freedom as a stowaway.
Is it suppose to be a celebration? Am I suppose to be overwhelmed with excitement? Am I suppose to have a smile from ear to ear with a heart beating full of joy? The image of a balloon tells me that. Colorful, bright, big, and floating in mid air.
the ballon was small, as if the person who gave it life with their breath had given up halfway through. it was red and its surface reflected the yellow light of the room.
She was holding it, afraid that it’d disappear just like everyone else she had tried holding on to. Her grip grew tighter as the balloon seemed to float further and further away from her.
i started floating away. i didn’t know what was happening. i held on tight and braced myself for whatever was going to happen.
when i was sixteen
i entered a writing contest
with a singular prompt:
‘red balloon.’
while the other entries
were about childhood memories
and toys, and the darkest of them
about fondess and dead loves
i could not think about
a red balloon
as something other
than an IV bag full of blood
and at last i went with a story
about teen pregnancy
a disgusting girl and a cruel boy
who hated each other
and a red balloon
in the form of a burst belly
miscarriages
bleakness
and dead babies.
i won, though i never could reread
that piece again. i’m not sure
what that says about
the person i was
and who i have become.
a red, flying object. Sometimes blue or yellow, or maybe even pink. A child’s plaything. One of my earliest memories is my balloon, my new, acquired treasure, flying away from me. What a shame.
Sometimes she’d get anxious when she saw her puppy lying down, his tongue out on the cold floor, his chest barely heaving, and she’d get even more anxious when she couldn’t see him, and she could call him but he wouldn’t answer because his ears had never worked at all. So she’d resolved to tying a red balloon to his collar every morning, and was very happy – not to hear his footsteps padding around her, since her ears had never worked at all either – but to see the red balloon floating around her table, her bed, her chair, all around the house.
balloon is elastic
it floats in air
it soars
sack of air
hot air balloon or helium balloon?
pink blue black red balloons
birthday balloons
I don’t know what i’m writing
Happiness in a ball of air.
I couldn’t describe my fascination
as I watched you
observed this simplistic,
amazed
ecstasy on your face.
I don’t want you to grow up.
Balloons reminds me of my childhood days.Balloons were my companions in the festival seasons of our town.
Sometimes you have to let things go.
I stood in the street and realized that love is about admiration, not possession.
I’ll find myself forever wanting what once was, but because change is the only definite concept in life.. I came to terms with the fact that you have to adapt to loss. Forever is a myth in the reality which we exist.
There’s a little speck floating in the sky. It could be the free floating balloon of a child now in tears, or a bird in the distance, lost and alone. It could be a speck on my glasses, or something in my eye, but it could also be a helicopter or airplane.
There are a million ways to see things from a distance. It’s only when we silence the world around us and look closer that we can see the truth clearly.
as a young girl i rarely played with balloons although we always had them whenever there was abirthday party. i onve rembere how my mamu surprised me and braought p[ractivcally a million balloons along with him. me and my coisins ahda an awesome time blowing them up.
She lay helpless on the bed, a million tubes hooked to her peaceful body. My trembling fingers grasped her warm hands, I raised my tear stained face as the doctor walked in. He made promises of a new experimental balloon procedure which could save her life, bring her back to me. It could be inserted into her heart and she could live! I glanced at my mother who was next of kin and had to make the call. As usual she just shrugged, not a care in the world. My tears of sadness began to burn with rage. I screamed DO IT! DO IT! SAVE HER! Finally my selfish mother nodded and they came for her, taking my Grandma into emergency surgery. I paced the room, tears and prayers keeping me company as my mother flipped through the tv channels. Suddenly my heart quickened at the sound of the doctor. My legs heavy with dread as I watched them wheel her back into the room. Something was wrong. The balloon procedure couldn’t be done. Within minutes my life changed forever as I lost the one person who truly ever loved me, accepted me, my only true family.
one impossible blue floats overhead
lands in a suburban desert backyard
startles the inhabitants
you never know when an impossible blue will drop in.
light falling through the breeze entering the tunnel of darkness with a mellow orange light at the end shining. Floats and gets pricked by a sharp stone. Falls flat on top of a fire illuminating the dark tunnel at the end.
flying big parties decorations helium birthdays
Ninety-nine were once let go,
Demonstrating folly
Of the silent war and wall of stone,
Puppetmastering all. We
Now release our own legion
Of colors multitudinous,
To reflect the barriers now gone,
Towards the goal that yet awaits us.
pretty balloons, lots of balloons, floating in the sky. All the children below laugh and clap their hands. They are enjoying the end of my son’s birthday party. We had a lot of fun and games for the children. The best way to know whether your party has been a success or not is to see the smiles on the children’s faces. The balloons were the last bit, and quite the icing on the cake!
Balloons in the sky
So many colours
Are they our chakras or especially for this
weekend a celebration of Pride?
Colours, balloons, Canada pride ,happiness,
Plant a seed and let it go like a balloon up up up into the beautiful blue sky !
I traveled in an old hot air balloon on my way to St. Louis for a 4th of July celebration with my younger sibling, Jennifer.
The balloon floated high into the air with little care for the anguish of the child who had let it go. It has seemed to him that the thing wanted so desperately to be free, bobbing this way and that in the wind, that there was no other ethical choice but to oblige it. Now that he had, however, he rather regretted it. He wondered briefly how high it would climb.
I saw the balloon rise in the sky, big and red. Drifting through the air currents with no real direction. I thought, some child must be sad that they had let it go, slip out of their tiny palm. Or maybe, a birthday party was a bit less decorated, having lost that shiny red balloon to the clouds.
as a child i hav always fantasied ballons,,they come in different colors,,it brings nostalgia in me,,,,the colors and the way they make u proud as achild,,,,u think of all the lovely times u played and enjoyed.
I told her I didn’t want to go up. Some things we do for those we love. Afraid of the heights, afraid of the fall. Visions of the fall. Visions of floating away with her forever.
I don’t know where it’s going, but I don’t know where I am going either. It’s so far away but I know if I tried, I could reach it – but do I want to?
where is it going
where am I
save me.
floating and i dont know how to get it back. too far and too fast but at the same time it is within reach – what is stopping me? you? nothing? up and up like everything else and i cant, i cant,
save me.
fly away in the sky further and further away. Red ballon followed that child in that film where ever he went bounce bounce. They carried that house away in up. I’d like a balloon to carry me away
I was excited to go up in the air in the balloon with my friends. Thoughts of danger had entered my mind and try as hard as I could I just could not shelved them away.
balloon is amazing it can fly and it got so many colors. enough said. balloon is kinda childish but fun. i love it.
I had to pull over and watch when I saw them from highway. The airport had long been abandoned by conventional planes, but for today it appeared it was becoming a launch pad for balloons. I counted five in all, spread across the ground in a myriad of stages of taking in air. People chattered, some huddling with coffee against the chill of the early morning. Their faces glowed with rosy cheeks and smiles. Their eyes held a mix of concentration, excitement, and a glassy awe. They smiled at me and greeted me with hellos and nods. There was one individual talking to the group, and I realized I had stumbled into some kind of group or club meeting. There was a review of checking gadgets, importance of weather awareness, guidance discussions for various conditions. At least half of the balloons were in partial fill stance with colors splayed across the ground everywhere. Bold primary colors in herringbone zigzags, contrasting stripes of colors, squares bonded together like magical quilts—soon to be magic carpets and riding baskets on adventures. Leaving them to their tasks and prep, I chided myself for not having a camera at my side. Later after work and phones and the pressures of the day, video captures on the local news instantly breathed air into my weary spirit again. The view of their colored bulbs floating above buildings and highways turned an ordinary day, once again, into something magical. My day and mind held still at long last watching the airborne balloons perform an enchanting ballet beneath a blue sky dotted with clouds, silently coasting with birds and breeze and beauty on display all around around them. Even though I could only witness their flight though the looking glass in my livingroom, my heart soared with them in wonder reveling in their ballooned freedom as a stowaway.
passion free air colour happiness fly freedom inspiration life
Is it suppose to be a celebration? Am I suppose to be overwhelmed with excitement? Am I suppose to have a smile from ear to ear with a heart beating full of joy? The image of a balloon tells me that. Colorful, bright, big, and floating in mid air.
JUST DO IT HAVE ENAUGH COURAGE
the ballon was small, as if the person who gave it life with their breath had given up halfway through. it was red and its surface reflected the yellow light of the room.
She was holding it, afraid that it’d disappear just like everyone else she had tried holding on to. Her grip grew tighter as the balloon seemed to float further and further away from her.
I someday want to ride a ballon with my lover and fly away forever…