Slowly peeping out from below the sheets, she tumbled down from the bed. And there she found the glowing blue-bird, at the foot of the bed… his name was Glo-bo. He looked at her with frightened beady eyes.
“Where is your mother”, the little girl asked. Glo-bo stepped back and balled himself up in the farthest corner he could find. “Oh, don’t be scared”, said the little girl, “I lost my mumma too…but the matron here is a kind old lady”.
Glo-bo tilted his head side-ways, he looked as if he was weighing her words. He slowly hopped into the little girls hands. “I am Glo-bo” he chirped. The child’s eyes filled with excitement, because her crumbling dreams were finally coming true.
I feel like my life has been crumbling lately and I’ve just been trying to put the pieces back together. I feel broken, but I don’t know I’m just trying to find my way and make something out of this mess I’ve made
You watch as everything dear to you crumbles, all but a hollow artifice masquerading as happy relationships, met goals. But this is the world you deluded yourself into seeing in desperate hopes all could be well. The world is not perfect.
Crumble like a cookie. The crumbs fall to the plate with tiny bits of chocolate. The salty-ness of the crumbs mixes with the sweet on your tongue. The cookie crumbles in your mouth and make your taste buds tingle.
I fell apart today in a little coffee shop right across from a Men’s Warehouse. I watched as she crumbled the remainder of her scone and flicked the crumbs at his nose, and I stood tall, but when he laughed, and worse, when the laughter was so genuine I could see it in his eyes; well, then i crumbled.
I was so mad! I had worked so hard on the cherry pie for my grandmother’s birthday. I wanted it to be perfect because she is an extraordinary baker and I wanted to show her that I could be a baker as well. Sadly, after I took the pie out of the oven and let it cool, when I went to cut it, the crust crumbled in piles all over the kitchen counter.
When I was a child, my Mom made the most delicious homemade cookies and stored them in a tin. Oatmeal, Chocolate Chip, Chocolate Doodles, Snickerdoodles, and Gingersnaps – I can still see the flecks of crumbs in that beloved can.
crumble for example you have a cookie and it breaks it causes the cookie to crumble. crumple is when a food or object breaks apart causing it to be in bits and pieces that makes it crumble.
I feel like my whole world is crumbling. But maybe it isn’t me who is crumbling but it’s other people whom i crumble. I leave a trail of broken hearts everywhere i go because the attention lifts me up but when as soon as it becomes too serious I crumble with their hearts.
The only thing I can think of when I hear the word “crumble” is bread. All kinds of bread. Biscuits, cookies, bread, banana bread, cranberry bread, etc. Do I sound hungry? Yeah. I am.
Long ago, in a country called Greece, everything was new. Nothing was yet crumbling. The buildings, the history, the people, the food. And a little girl named Calista. Calista saved her village from a terrible fire. But there is bad news to this story. Calista did not have the same fate as the others in the village. Calista perished greatly in the fire. But Calista died a hero. THE END
The world around her began to crumble as she tried desperately to save herself from the words spilling out of her mouth. “I mean, what I mean, what I MEANT, um, it’s more like…” There was no stopping her and she could see each sentence corner herself further and further into oblivion.
so the world around her started to crumble… as she saw her parents fight like mad dogs… the hell broke lose…she could not understand what was going on in her life.. her world her parents seems to have forgotten everything….she seemed to have her house but have lost her home :’)
i crumbled the breas so as to feed the baby bird that came to my window…it chirped smelling the bread it seemed to me…. and after the storm the sun rays made her feathers glisten…the cruncy bread crumble seemed to be a good enough treat for her…
She wouldn’t crumble. No matter how long she was instructed to stay there. Though he could see her arms shake, and the tears fall into her blinking eyes, she would not give in. He imagined what her muscles would have felt like by now, long since soaked in lactic acid and sending out screams of pain up through her spine. Yet she stayed. Defiant.
The bread fell apart in his hands. “How peculiar,” he thought as he watched the fluff crumble into dust. The thought of his next meal was, for some reason, not on the forefront of his mind. All he could do was contemplate his eventual fate, like that of his pastry.
The walls crumbled, debris littering the cracked tiles and kicking up dust around what used to be their room. He coughed, praying that his asthma wouldn’t act up here. Looking around, all he could think about was the happiness he had once felt at being the cause of this sort of destruction, but now…
i can make you a delicious peach crumble. Or maybe an apple one – a microvaved shit like the thing I did back at Spoons. With some frozen custard or ice cream on top. 2.50 for frozen shit, fucking ridicoulous.
Cake it on. Just pick up the pieces and cake it on. Ignore the dust. Just make sure you hide every scar. Let the only thing crumble be the powder in that little jar.
There is mud covering my eyes. And it is only now, when it is starting to crumble, that I finally see how wrong I was.
How prideful and stupid. Building castles out of lies and promises. It only took a little water, rushing up the shore to meet me, for the clay to finally fall.
And now I see.
I was always the wrong one.
I may not have all the ingredients
To be your perfect pie
But I’ve got just enough
To be a decent crumble
So if you can be happy with something simple
Take a bite of me
I may not be much
But perhaps I can satisfy
When from your mouth
the non-truth flies
and you fill your head
with your own lies
you can bluster
you can mumble
but sooner
your wall
starts to crumble
And that was when he crumbled. She said his name, and it struck his heart, fracturing the the walls all the way down, down, down.
He was a hypocrite.
He was a liar.
He was a thief and an outlaw, but she loved him down to the deepest part.
The whole crumbling mess.
All I could do was stand and watch as everything I’d built up all crumbled apart. The gravity was too much; the pieces fell, one by one, and crashed into even smaller ones at the bottom. I watched this happen until there was nothing left but dust.
Today at work I made a coffee cake. Now, I’m a pretty good baker. I’ve never actually made most of the stuff I’ve made here, but so far, I’ve only had one bad review. It was a fudge that never set. But I didn’t realize how hard it was to make a strusel crumble.
She falls down, head in her hands.There’s a mad standing in front of her, eyes shining through the shadows cast. A leveled sword, aiming at her neck.
She grins. A single glance up, a jerk to the side, and he crumbles down. The sword clatters.
She stands.
She is victorious.
She is.
That’s the way the cookie crumbles. It crumbles into tiny little pieces, which are further broken down into smaller pieces, and finally broken down into microscopic parcels which can hardly be seen by the human eye. Biology is an incredible thing.
The cake was dry, and she didn’t see it crumbling onto the floor beneath her. She was simply shoving it into her mouth, forkful after forkful, as her mind was distracted by thoughts of the day. The dog took advantage of her distraction to vacuum up any crumbs that fell at her feet.
I’m always out the moment the sun rises, the brisk wind of dawn tangling my hair in knots and stinging my face red. The rays always gradually creep up across the grass, like a snake slithering to its prey, and casts shadows on the crumbling remains of the stone ruins.
It crumbled in my fingers, just before it reached my mouth. Pieces of biscuit fell from my hands in a ginger cascade, burying themselves in my woolen jumper and landing on the floor in a waterfall of disappointment.
I dropped my empty, crumb-covered hands to my sides as I felt tears begin to spill from my eyes.
Slowly peeping out from below the sheets, she tumbled down from the bed. And there she found the glowing blue-bird, at the foot of the bed… his name was Glo-bo. He looked at her with frightened beady eyes.
“Where is your mother”, the little girl asked. Glo-bo stepped back and balled himself up in the farthest corner he could find. “Oh, don’t be scared”, said the little girl, “I lost my mumma too…but the matron here is a kind old lady”.
Glo-bo tilted his head side-ways, he looked as if he was weighing her words. He slowly hopped into the little girls hands. “I am Glo-bo” he chirped. The child’s eyes filled with excitement, because her crumbling dreams were finally coming true.
Crumble like a pie or crumbling like an old man carrying the weight of his life.
I feel like my life has been crumbling lately and I’ve just been trying to put the pieces back together. I feel broken, but I don’t know I’m just trying to find my way and make something out of this mess I’ve made
You watch as everything dear to you crumbles, all but a hollow artifice masquerading as happy relationships, met goals. But this is the world you deluded yourself into seeing in desperate hopes all could be well. The world is not perfect.
Crumble like a cookie. The crumbs fall to the plate with tiny bits of chocolate. The salty-ness of the crumbs mixes with the sweet on your tongue. The cookie crumbles in your mouth and make your taste buds tingle.
I fell apart today in a little coffee shop right across from a Men’s Warehouse. I watched as she crumbled the remainder of her scone and flicked the crumbs at his nose, and I stood tall, but when he laughed, and worse, when the laughter was so genuine I could see it in his eyes; well, then i crumbled.
bread crums. nothing else comes to my miind
I was so mad! I had worked so hard on the cherry pie for my grandmother’s birthday. I wanted it to be perfect because she is an extraordinary baker and I wanted to show her that I could be a baker as well. Sadly, after I took the pie out of the oven and let it cool, when I went to cut it, the crust crumbled in piles all over the kitchen counter.
When I was a child, my Mom made the most delicious homemade cookies and stored them in a tin. Oatmeal, Chocolate Chip, Chocolate Doodles, Snickerdoodles, and Gingersnaps – I can still see the flecks of crumbs in that beloved can.
a clifrf can crumble like just start breaking and boom faaaaaaaaaaalls
crumble for example you have a cookie and it breaks it causes the cookie to crumble. crumple is when a food or object breaks apart causing it to be in bits and pieces that makes it crumble.
1.break or fall apart into small fragments.
“their crumbling ancestral home
the plaster started to crumble
fall apart
fall down.
The mountain was crumbling when an earthquake started.
I feel like my whole world is crumbling. But maybe it isn’t me who is crumbling but it’s other people whom i crumble. I leave a trail of broken hearts everywhere i go because the attention lifts me up but when as soon as it becomes too serious I crumble with their hearts.
break into pieces
The cookie crumbled in my hand as I reached across the counter.
“Damn it!” i shouted as I looked down at the mess I had made, “Mom is going to kill me”. How am I supposed to sneak a cookie when it crumbles on me?
The only thing I can think of when I hear the word “crumble” is bread. All kinds of bread. Biscuits, cookies, bread, banana bread, cranberry bread, etc. Do I sound hungry? Yeah. I am.
Long ago, in a country called Greece, everything was new. Nothing was yet crumbling. The buildings, the history, the people, the food. And a little girl named Calista. Calista saved her village from a terrible fire. But there is bad news to this story. Calista did not have the same fate as the others in the village. Calista perished greatly in the fire. But Calista died a hero. THE END
Who’s up for pizza?
As I watch my sister get adopted without me I felt like I was going to crumble. I know I had to seem strong so my sister won’t worry about me.
The man crumbled the bread in his hands and threw the pieces one by one into the duck pond.
The world around her began to crumble as she tried desperately to save herself from the words spilling out of her mouth. “I mean, what I mean, what I MEANT, um, it’s more like…” There was no stopping her and she could see each sentence corner herself further and further into oblivion.
so the world around her started to crumble… as she saw her parents fight like mad dogs… the hell broke lose…she could not understand what was going on in her life.. her world her parents seems to have forgotten everything….she seemed to have her house but have lost her home :’)
i crumbled the breas so as to feed the baby bird that came to my window…it chirped smelling the bread it seemed to me…. and after the storm the sun rays made her feathers glisten…the cruncy bread crumble seemed to be a good enough treat for her…
She wouldn’t crumble. No matter how long she was instructed to stay there. Though he could see her arms shake, and the tears fall into her blinking eyes, she would not give in. He imagined what her muscles would have felt like by now, long since soaked in lactic acid and sending out screams of pain up through her spine. Yet she stayed. Defiant.
The bread fell apart in his hands. “How peculiar,” he thought as he watched the fluff crumble into dust. The thought of his next meal was, for some reason, not on the forefront of his mind. All he could do was contemplate his eventual fate, like that of his pastry.
The walls crumbled, debris littering the cracked tiles and kicking up dust around what used to be their room. He coughed, praying that his asthma wouldn’t act up here. Looking around, all he could think about was the happiness he had once felt at being the cause of this sort of destruction, but now…
You are the ocean, where I ebb and flow,
and where the rocks crumble.
Shine on, you sea sand. Glisten under the sun.
Our nights have been heavy, but our day’s just begun.
i can make you a delicious peach crumble. Or maybe an apple one – a microvaved shit like the thing I did back at Spoons. With some frozen custard or ice cream on top. 2.50 for frozen shit, fucking ridicoulous.
Cake it on. Just pick up the pieces and cake it on. Ignore the dust. Just make sure you hide every scar. Let the only thing crumble be the powder in that little jar.
There is mud covering my eyes. And it is only now, when it is starting to crumble, that I finally see how wrong I was.
How prideful and stupid. Building castles out of lies and promises. It only took a little water, rushing up the shore to meet me, for the clay to finally fall.
And now I see.
I was always the wrong one.
I may not have all the ingredients
To be your perfect pie
But I’ve got just enough
To be a decent crumble
So if you can be happy with something simple
Take a bite of me
I may not be much
But perhaps I can satisfy
When from your mouth
the non-truth flies
and you fill your head
with your own lies
you can bluster
you can mumble
but sooner
your wall
starts to crumble
And that was when he crumbled. She said his name, and it struck his heart, fracturing the the walls all the way down, down, down.
He was a hypocrite.
He was a liar.
He was a thief and an outlaw, but she loved him down to the deepest part.
The whole crumbling mess.
All I could do was stand and watch as everything I’d built up all crumbled apart. The gravity was too much; the pieces fell, one by one, and crashed into even smaller ones at the bottom. I watched this happen until there was nothing left but dust.
Today at work I made a coffee cake. Now, I’m a pretty good baker. I’ve never actually made most of the stuff I’ve made here, but so far, I’ve only had one bad review. It was a fudge that never set. But I didn’t realize how hard it was to make a strusel crumble.
She falls down, head in her hands.There’s a mad standing in front of her, eyes shining through the shadows cast. A leveled sword, aiming at her neck.
She grins. A single glance up, a jerk to the side, and he crumbles down. The sword clatters.
She stands.
She is victorious.
She is.
That’s the way the cookie crumbles. It crumbles into tiny little pieces, which are further broken down into smaller pieces, and finally broken down into microscopic parcels which can hardly be seen by the human eye. Biology is an incredible thing.
The cake was dry, and she didn’t see it crumbling onto the floor beneath her. She was simply shoving it into her mouth, forkful after forkful, as her mind was distracted by thoughts of the day. The dog took advantage of her distraction to vacuum up any crumbs that fell at her feet.
I’m always out the moment the sun rises, the brisk wind of dawn tangling my hair in knots and stinging my face red. The rays always gradually creep up across the grass, like a snake slithering to its prey, and casts shadows on the crumbling remains of the stone ruins.
It crumbled in my fingers, just before it reached my mouth. Pieces of biscuit fell from my hands in a ginger cascade, burying themselves in my woolen jumper and landing on the floor in a waterfall of disappointment.
I dropped my empty, crumb-covered hands to my sides as I felt tears begin to spill from my eyes.
It was going to be another one of those days.