I’m feeling my age, because the first thing to come to mind was the ‘cone of silence’ from the old Get Smart show. It’s astounding how much things have changed since then. I wonder what Smart would think of things today, him and his shoe phone.
The cone shaped bra intimidated all the men. They were, of course, curious about what the bra could be hiding. Though on the flip side they were terrified that the woman would put out their eye if they asked or tried to peek. One man swore he saw a poisoned needle coming from it. They all agreed it was scary shit.
She loved the icecream that came in the waffle cones. They were so crunchy and if the icrecream went all the way to the bottom of the cone it was heaven for her. She loved it when it was drizzled with berry pure.
There was something about the cone that made people stare. It wasn’t really a big deal, it was just a regular traffic cone. No one ever could take their eyes off of it, though scientists often speculated for years. Perhaps the silver sheen of its blinders, perhaps its astonishing hue that sent deep fears of danger into someone’s heart. It was impossible to say for sure. All anyone was able to say, if anyone was able to say anything, was that the traffic cones were dangerous. Seriously.
pretty words from a pretty mouth
do not equal wisdom
but twist words
and burn the rhythms off your tongue.
feed off of poetry;
it’s good for you
the lines on my palm
speak of plotholes and misery
but some degree of self-fulfillment
( shouldn’t have tipped the reader but
we all need to eat )
i will not die on a misty mountain
or fall from twenty stories onto noontime traffic,
but i definitely won’t melt into the tub and drown in the stars—
my veins are too thick to be battered
I try to understand what a cone is. Does it have a point. Or is it shaped like an ice cream cone, filled with that icy cream taste filling my thoughts at this moment. This is just like functions, which I just learned in class today. One input (cone) cannot have two outputs. So therefore the meaning of cone is a relationship, not function. Life works like that sometimes.
I hated high school geometry… finding the area of all that stuff… cones, rectangles, parabalas…. or whatever the hell they are called. Seriously, I have never, EVER needed that stuff except while playing pool in college, a game I am sadly miserable at…. statistics was much more appealing than geometry.
Ice cream cones filled with hard ice cream are the best… sugar, well waffle actually although I am always too cheap to buy those. I guess it is almost time to bid farewell to summer which is bittersweet. I will miss summer nights, ice cream and fires, the front porch in the morni
I was disheveled about how amazing this little cone of light was. It irradiated from the center of the being made of pulsating forms of radiation. But despite how strange this being was, it was the cone of light that perplexed me more. Was it the soul of this creature? Was it the eyes or some other kind of sensing organ? I didn’t know; it wracked my brain with such mystery that it absorbed me in a way that nothing ever has before. My life will now be consumed by that strange cone of lights. Will anything ever mean anything after this encounter with the being? Will I be stuck here left with nothing left to discuss but this cone? I do not know, but I fear that’s all I’ll have left now.
As she modeled for herself in the mirror, Ivory wondered whether or not she could bring back the dunce cap as fashionably ironic. It would make the perfect prom statement.
I like cones, cones inspire me to think of the way life works. It makes me think of working towards goals to the point of acomplishment. It is something I want to do with writing a novel and play. Working towards it like a cone.
Cone – ice cream, of course. A big double scoop of chocolate would be my favorite. Even without the nuts and bits of fudge and tiny marshmallows. Just the plain old delicious, fabulous, fantastic, flavor-of-the-Gods chocolate. Is there anything better? I have read that vanilla is the world’s favorite. I simply cannot understand how that could possibly be. Vanilla is so … so, well, so ordinary. It’s sometimes too sweet and cloying. But chocolate? Ah… the variety. Milk chocolate, dark chocolate, semi-sweet chocolate. Chocolate with nuts of all kinds, but especially with pecans, is absolutely divine. Chocolate with any other additions is acceptable. With the exception of peanut butter. I’ll eat it with peanut butter if there’s no other chocolate around. But I’d prefer pecans. And maybe tiny chunks of chocolate brownie. Hmm. Delicioso!
Emila ran across the beach screaming “Momma Momma” there is the ice cream man! I want an ice cream cone she yelled with excitement. Lilly her mom just seemed to ignore the request when a flash of a twist cone from another individual walked past her. She caved in! Emila got her ice cream and she was excited!
The cone was empty and I thought of the addition of another scoop of ice cream. That would be the best way to end this dinner. I had thought of other desserts but the idea of ice cream was tempting.
he had a cone for a head. not a traffic cone, glaring orange and alerting others of safety hazards. not an ice cream cone, created for enjoyment. in fact, his cone-shaped head was barely visible. he often went unnoticed by others entirely. and yet all his life, he felt like the freak that everybody stared at.
“How it got it’s name, I don’t really know.” I thought as I watched the chipmunks scamper to and fro, piling seeds from within the cone. Fallen from a high pine tree, it trusted the critters to plant afresh.
Hard to eat ice-cream without a cone. Hard for Maxwell Smart to talk to his chief without the cone of silence. Can’t think of any other meaning for cone.
A cone is placed in the road to mark where you can’t drive. I once stole one when I was a student. It was dirty. I also stole a plastic spoon and got caught. It was embarrassing and strange because it only cost 50c in the end and was atually free.
I wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t given in in the end.
It was a hot summer day, we were walking hand in hand, the sun glaring down on us. We loved it, the sun, the warmth, each other.
Suddenly she stopped me, pulling me towards a cart on the side of the road, ‘Please Brian,’ she said, ‘just one cone for me?’ She asked with a cute pout.
Sighing, I couldn’t help but agree and bought both of us an ice cream cone.
cone, como aquele cone de gelado que me imaginei a trincar num final de tarde precioso. Estava acompanhada por ti, com quem tinha estado no dia antes e estaria no dia seguinte. Aquela fase das paixões em que os amantes não se conseguem separar, nem mesmo para comerem um cone de gelado acompanhados só e apenas pelas suas belas almas e pelos seus esbeltos físicos.
I picked up the ice cream cone and threatened, “if you do that one more time…”.
I wasn’t kidding. I was tired of him constantly sneaking up behind me and trying to tickle me. I was a very nervous child and having someone always going for my ribs drove me nuts. I also made me very jumpy, thus the threat with the ice cream cone.
The bright orange cone reflected the little amount of light that filtered between the clouds oppressing the tiny town. It lay on its side in the middle of a road, dusty and essentially useless. There was no traffic here any more.
She always bit a hole at the bottom of her cone first thing, she couldn’t help it. And then she would try to suck the ice cream out as hard as she could.
For some reason, the traffic cone in the middle of the road caught his eye. Bright orange and reflective, it was a distraction from the greyness of the dreary Autumn day, and the blood splattered all over the pavement.
Ohio’s state flower, comes in orange, orange, and orange. Millions come out in spring, many don’t make it through the summer as people drive over them in frustration.
While I wait for it. I smell the scent in the air. I feel the fragrance on my skin. Savor the waiting. As I watch it get ready for the fall. That little pine cone which I will use to feed the birds one and all.
While I wait for it
I smell the scent
in the air
Feel the fragrance
On my skin
Savor the waiting
As I watch it get ready
For the fall
That little pine cone
Which I will use
To feed the birds
One and all
I think of ice cream, the cone heads, but I think of the times mom and dad would take me for ice cream and I’d eat the bottom of the cone and eat it as I was getting messy. I like cones instead of cups because it’s more fun to eat everything and then have a crunch at the end.
Delicious dripping ice cream on a hot, hot day. Sugar cone, hiding underneath the mound of sweetness. Always delicious on the tongue. Chocolate, coffee, mint.
She simply stood, staring. The cone of ice cream was clutched so tightly in her hand it threatened to break, but she didn’t care. She watched with ever-growing anger as the sight of his familiar form wrapped its arms around a girl who was most definitely not her.
like an ice cream cone? I’ve always been on the fence about ice cream cones. I like them, but they are messy. I don’t like messy things. Even if they are delicious, like ice cream.
“It’s a icecream!” A little child screamt to it’s mom who was right beside him. Indeed, it was an icecream in a cone. Two scoops, one chocolate and one strawberry.
Wrapping up a newspaper, she stuck it with clear tape to the tip of her widow’s peak, through her fluttering mess of fringe.
“Unicorns are such vile, untameable things, aren’t they?”
“I’ve never heard someone call a unicorn vile.”
“Oh, I never said I didn’t like them. It just seems to me we’re a lot alike.” She smiled at me, with a happiness in her eyes that took in the mountains and the grass and river streaking by below us on our little hill. “I’ve never been one you could even talk to without my impudence bubbling up.”
I smiled back at her, the breeze as soft on my cheek as the kind wonder of her words.
I’m feeling my age, because the first thing to come to mind was the ‘cone of silence’ from the old Get Smart show. It’s astounding how much things have changed since then. I wonder what Smart would think of things today, him and his shoe phone.
The cone shaped bra intimidated all the men. They were, of course, curious about what the bra could be hiding. Though on the flip side they were terrified that the woman would put out their eye if they asked or tried to peek. One man swore he saw a poisoned needle coming from it. They all agreed it was scary shit.
She loved the icecream that came in the waffle cones. They were so crunchy and if the icrecream went all the way to the bottom of the cone it was heaven for her. She loved it when it was drizzled with berry pure.
There was something about the cone that made people stare. It wasn’t really a big deal, it was just a regular traffic cone. No one ever could take their eyes off of it, though scientists often speculated for years. Perhaps the silver sheen of its blinders, perhaps its astonishing hue that sent deep fears of danger into someone’s heart. It was impossible to say for sure. All anyone was able to say, if anyone was able to say anything, was that the traffic cones were dangerous. Seriously.
pretty words from a pretty mouth
do not equal wisdom
but twist words
and burn the rhythms off your tongue.
feed off of poetry;
it’s good for you
the lines on my palm
speak of plotholes and misery
but some degree of self-fulfillment
( shouldn’t have tipped the reader but
we all need to eat )
i will not die on a misty mountain
or fall from twenty stories onto noontime traffic,
but i definitely won’t melt into the tub and drown in the stars—
my veins are too thick to be battered
I try to understand what a cone is. Does it have a point. Or is it shaped like an ice cream cone, filled with that icy cream taste filling my thoughts at this moment. This is just like functions, which I just learned in class today. One input (cone) cannot have two outputs. So therefore the meaning of cone is a relationship, not function. Life works like that sometimes.
I hated high school geometry… finding the area of all that stuff… cones, rectangles, parabalas…. or whatever the hell they are called. Seriously, I have never, EVER needed that stuff except while playing pool in college, a game I am sadly miserable at…. statistics was much more appealing than geometry.
The top of the building was shaped like a cone, which made it impossible for the helicopter to land there. They would have to jump…
Ice cream cones filled with hard ice cream are the best… sugar, well waffle actually although I am always too cheap to buy those. I guess it is almost time to bid farewell to summer which is bittersweet. I will miss summer nights, ice cream and fires, the front porch in the morni
I was disheveled about how amazing this little cone of light was. It irradiated from the center of the being made of pulsating forms of radiation. But despite how strange this being was, it was the cone of light that perplexed me more. Was it the soul of this creature? Was it the eyes or some other kind of sensing organ? I didn’t know; it wracked my brain with such mystery that it absorbed me in a way that nothing ever has before. My life will now be consumed by that strange cone of lights. Will anything ever mean anything after this encounter with the being? Will I be stuck here left with nothing left to discuss but this cone? I do not know, but I fear that’s all I’ll have left now.
“Gimme an ice cream cone!”
“No.”
“Gimme an ice cream cone!”
“No!”
“GIMME AN ICE CREAM CONE!”
“For the last time, no, because you are being undeniably rude!” barked Joel’s mother as she grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the window.
“Oh! Uh…please?”
“Too little, too late, young man!”
As she modeled for herself in the mirror, Ivory wondered whether or not she could bring back the dunce cap as fashionably ironic. It would make the perfect prom statement.
I like cones, cones inspire me to think of the way life works. It makes me think of working towards goals to the point of acomplishment. It is something I want to do with writing a novel and play. Working towards it like a cone.
it is a math figure, it can be used to stop cars, it can be used to hold Icecream. OOOOOh ice cream, the powers of a cone are endless and infinite.
Cone – ice cream, of course. A big double scoop of chocolate would be my favorite. Even without the nuts and bits of fudge and tiny marshmallows. Just the plain old delicious, fabulous, fantastic, flavor-of-the-Gods chocolate. Is there anything better? I have read that vanilla is the world’s favorite. I simply cannot understand how that could possibly be. Vanilla is so … so, well, so ordinary. It’s sometimes too sweet and cloying. But chocolate? Ah… the variety. Milk chocolate, dark chocolate, semi-sweet chocolate. Chocolate with nuts of all kinds, but especially with pecans, is absolutely divine. Chocolate with any other additions is acceptable. With the exception of peanut butter. I’ll eat it with peanut butter if there’s no other chocolate around. But I’d prefer pecans. And maybe tiny chunks of chocolate brownie. Hmm. Delicioso!
Emila ran across the beach screaming “Momma Momma” there is the ice cream man! I want an ice cream cone she yelled with excitement. Lilly her mom just seemed to ignore the request when a flash of a twist cone from another individual walked past her. She caved in! Emila got her ice cream and she was excited!
The cone was empty and I thought of the addition of another scoop of ice cream. That would be the best way to end this dinner. I had thought of other desserts but the idea of ice cream was tempting.
he had a cone for a head. not a traffic cone, glaring orange and alerting others of safety hazards. not an ice cream cone, created for enjoyment. in fact, his cone-shaped head was barely visible. he often went unnoticed by others entirely. and yet all his life, he felt like the freak that everybody stared at.
“How it got it’s name, I don’t really know.” I thought as I watched the chipmunks scamper to and fro, piling seeds from within the cone. Fallen from a high pine tree, it trusted the critters to plant afresh.
“How it got it’s name, I don’t really know. I really must investigate” I thought
Hard to eat ice-cream without a cone. Hard for Maxwell Smart to talk to his chief without the cone of silence. Can’t think of any other meaning for cone.
A cone is placed in the road to mark where you can’t drive. I once stole one when I was a student. It was dirty. I also stole a plastic spoon and got caught. It was embarrassing and strange because it only cost 50c in the end and was atually free.
I wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t given in in the end.
The orange cone is sitting on the street. It looks like a triangular sun in a night sky. It shines in the light.
It was a hot summer day, we were walking hand in hand, the sun glaring down on us. We loved it, the sun, the warmth, each other.
Suddenly she stopped me, pulling me towards a cart on the side of the road, ‘Please Brian,’ she said, ‘just one cone for me?’ She asked with a cute pout.
Sighing, I couldn’t help but agree and bought both of us an ice cream cone.
cone, como aquele cone de gelado que me imaginei a trincar num final de tarde precioso. Estava acompanhada por ti, com quem tinha estado no dia antes e estaria no dia seguinte. Aquela fase das paixões em que os amantes não se conseguem separar, nem mesmo para comerem um cone de gelado acompanhados só e apenas pelas suas belas almas e pelos seus esbeltos físicos.
I picked up the ice cream cone and threatened, “if you do that one more time…”.
I wasn’t kidding. I was tired of him constantly sneaking up behind me and trying to tickle me. I was a very nervous child and having someone always going for my ribs drove me nuts. I also made me very jumpy, thus the threat with the ice cream cone.
The bright orange cone reflected the little amount of light that filtered between the clouds oppressing the tiny town. It lay on its side in the middle of a road, dusty and essentially useless. There was no traffic here any more.
She always bit a hole at the bottom of her cone first thing, she couldn’t help it. And then she would try to suck the ice cream out as hard as she could.
For some reason, the traffic cone in the middle of the road caught his eye. Bright orange and reflective, it was a distraction from the greyness of the dreary Autumn day, and the blood splattered all over the pavement.
Ohio’s state flower, comes in orange, orange, and orange. Millions come out in spring, many don’t make it through the summer as people drive over them in frustration.
While I wait for it. I smell the scent in the air. I feel the fragrance on my skin. Savor the waiting. As I watch it get ready for the fall. That little pine cone which I will use to feed the birds one and all.
While I wait for it
I smell the scent
in the air
Feel the fragrance
On my skin
Savor the waiting
As I watch it get ready
For the fall
That little pine cone
Which I will use
To feed the birds
One and all
I think of ice cream, the cone heads, but I think of the times mom and dad would take me for ice cream and I’d eat the bottom of the cone and eat it as I was getting messy. I like cones instead of cups because it’s more fun to eat everything and then have a crunch at the end.
Delicious dripping ice cream on a hot, hot day. Sugar cone, hiding underneath the mound of sweetness. Always delicious on the tongue. Chocolate, coffee, mint.
She simply stood, staring. The cone of ice cream was clutched so tightly in her hand it threatened to break, but she didn’t care. She watched with ever-growing anger as the sight of his familiar form wrapped its arms around a girl who was most definitely not her.
like an ice cream cone? I’ve always been on the fence about ice cream cones. I like them, but they are messy. I don’t like messy things. Even if they are delicious, like ice cream.
“It’s a icecream!” A little child screamt to it’s mom who was right beside him. Indeed, it was an icecream in a cone. Two scoops, one chocolate and one strawberry.
Lite-brites.
Construction paper.
Blue plastic cones with picks.
Wrapping up a newspaper, she stuck it with clear tape to the tip of her widow’s peak, through her fluttering mess of fringe.
“Unicorns are such vile, untameable things, aren’t they?”
“I’ve never heard someone call a unicorn vile.”
“Oh, I never said I didn’t like them. It just seems to me we’re a lot alike.” She smiled at me, with a happiness in her eyes that took in the mountains and the grass and river streaking by below us on our little hill. “I’ve never been one you could even talk to without my impudence bubbling up.”
I smiled back at her, the breeze as soft on my cheek as the kind wonder of her words.
sometimes, i get really emotional when i see someone drop their ice cream cone.
god forbid i drop mine.