fields of kale, fields of leeks. fields of abundance. on the farm, in the market. fields flowing with color and health. fields of flowers, fields of freckles. look up, look down, see the lines, see the wind flowing through the fields.
Fields of flowers, my friend. Fields of flowers. Pretty ones, poisonous ones, hell, even dead ones. You’d think those last two would scare me away. Haha. Nope.
yesterday’s word, what are you doing here?
i thought i left you long ago.
the fields were wide and twice as mean
as you were to me in the archipelago.
i don’t know what i’m writing
but it’s better than biting (my nails)
this makes no sense.
The semi-trailers trampled the fields of grass, their silhouettes sharp against the vivid reds of a rising sun. They were leviathans gliding across the surface of an ocean of guarded secrets, as their teeth crushed the fat, glistening blades and befell the wildflowers and bugs nestled between them, forming intertwining patterns in movements so random yet so sure, it seemed to any observer that they had to be with direction.
And with purpose they had come, for not only had their slaughter wrought ruin to a proudly groomed land, but it had also revealed the potholes and humps among the smooth plateaus of crumbling soil. In the end they left in quiet rumbles, and soon they were but dark dots in the horizon, leaving behind a land marred with faults both new and old, which lay naked under the scorching glare of a white hot sun.
There’s a gravitational field,
where thou must yield,
because even though a horse wants to chomp on a carrot,
that doesn’t mean the horse need clomp over another horse,
to eat,
there’s always more beets,
on other streets,
there’s always more hay,
The first instinct is one to listen to,
the second is one to glisten your tongue,
and prepare to speak through,
the third is an itch that must be scratched by another,
whether it be a hindering neimisis, or your brother.
fields in business, require expiation,
its a revelation, of a sensation,
that one gets when they connect with another,
the warm, feeling you get in your esophagus when you drink coffee;
stimulated and part of an impetus of righteous ethics,
and then visualize, all these party people,
up on a cloud, together,
laughing together,
growing together,
and never quail their endeavour to attain endeavours!
fields of flowers,,,, lavender felds…. france, smells, spring, romance, love, happiness in the air… a light and fragrant scent floating through the breeze…. colors…. vivid… beautiful, peace, harmony.
These were the fields where, he knew, lay the bones of generations of men like him. Hard-workers, tillers of the land and as mortal, as passing as the clouds that scudded now overhead, toward the west.
Together
No matter the weather
We gather and flatter induced by the nether
We grow as we go and the time seems to flow for the better;
strawberry fields forever.
fields as long as the night sky
and twice as hungry
starry crevices form this eyelashes of daffodils and those puffy white wishing flowers.
dandelions.
i remember to forget how hungry the fields were
because they stole my breathe and my words too.
fields stretch on
and on
and on
but i can’t seem to catch them.
the fleet past the corners of my eyes
they gather on my cheeks and i brush them away
i scratch my nails and there they are
but i can never capture them
no matter how hard i try.
i walk through the fields with my friends.
everything is fine, we pick flowers and hold hands.
a storm cloud is on the horizon, we run inside.
i like the summer when it’s mine.
I’m walking through fields of flowers and I hear the tall grasses shuffling behind me as she chases me. Her laughter echoes through the pastures and I feel her warmth enveloping me even though she’s still not near. I turn back and watch her hair bouncing as she skips towards me; always laughing. Her green eyes shining as they face the sun; the sun should be so grateful.
I love her.
fields grass sound of music wheat theresa may theresa may it feels grass sheep long meadowed expanse of daisy buttercup flat green palm against hand slapped white windows blue lockscreen
I have seen plenty of fields, grass fields, lawn fields and even ocean fields. It also depends on what context you are using the word field. There are plenty ways to use it.
I’m beginning to suspect you slipped a magnet into my bag when I went away. No matter how far afield I stray, I feel hints of you: subtle intimations through luminiferous ether.
the fields is where the little boy spent most of his day. he was always hard at work on the fields, his daddy never let him have a day off. he was so sick and tired of working the fields that he wanted to run away.
The fields were a bright green. The sun shone on them so nicely. It always makes me thank my God every time I see them. I thank Him for the beautiful fields He provides for you and me!
Fields of clover, fields of danger, of dead things lying there, waiting to be found amidst live and beautiful things springing up: strawberries, marigolds, wheat and corn… Tilled fields, barren of all but Hope; fields of work, rides to the dungeon or the stars; force fields to be slammed against on a outer space trek. And if all these fields existed as one, would it be called Dystopia?
World war two, Normandy Fields. The rows of poppies with the pretty contrast of the green grass and the blues skies. I love the balance of the beauty and the horror there, it comforts you that all those lives that were lost can rest in peace knowing that the world is still beautiful.
World war two, Normandy. When I see the word fields the first thing that comes to mind is Normandy, I can see it so clearly. The rows of poppies with the pretty contrast of the green grass and the blues skies. I love the balance of the beauty and the horror there, you are standing in the fields where so many good people died and you have the feeling of sadness but then you get a bit of hope and comfort in the fact that it is still pretty there. I like that because it comforts you that all those lives that were lost can rest in peace knowing that the world is still beautiful.
The Fields of Asphodel were brimming with the ghosts of sunflowers.
They danced to memories of the summer breeze, and brightened for the spirits that drifted past them, ignorant of the absent sunlight and coarse, cracked ground.
I think about you leading my by the hand, and I am delighted. I am free, and I am light. I look around me and all I see are the green green fields and the yellow yellow poppy flowers. The blue blue sky takes me away. and you, you keep me grounded here. but I can’t see your face.
This Halloween, the pumpkin fields are in real danger. A formidable religious sect of chocolate bunnies is merging, plotting a hideous flash mob for these ridiculous and loathsome festivities.There is only one thing they do not take into account: they will not ridicule this holiday, they will realise its very essence: every single pumpkin will be torn out, smashed on the street and arranged in a bunny-shape, lit by candles and carved in like easter eggs – this will be a truly awful Halloween-experience for the kidos.
Fields are an important part of my life in the sense that without them, I would not have anything to coach the sport that I love the most. Football is my passion and where my passion comes to life is out on the football field. Its the same place where 100 young men get to live out their dream at the same time as I do.
They say that if you find the fields of dying wheat just outside town, you’ll catch a glimpse of a colony, where the inhabitants are almost human. They dig holes in the dirt where it’s dry and yields no fruit or life, and when night falls, each ditch glows as if lit by a thousand embers or laughing fireflies.
my worries are like fields stretching as far as the eye can see
you are the reaper of my fields
you work hard day and night
in the rain and the burning sun
you yank from the roots
you till my land
you open me up for better things
There was once a boy who lived on a ranch with his grandpapa. They harvested corn every spring and wheat every autumn. One terrible day happened when Grandpapa passed away and the boy had to continue selling the crops every day at the bazaar until he had enough money to help his older brother move to the metropolis.
I dream of fields. Big, spacious, wide open fields. Bright orange California Poppies in full bloom and giant, sturdy trees swaying in the light breeze. I can ride my horse for miles through the blue bonnets growing in the noon day sun. This is my go to place, my private happy place. I may go there soon…it is waiting for me.
fields of kale, fields of leeks. fields of abundance. on the farm, in the market. fields flowing with color and health. fields of flowers, fields of freckles. look up, look down, see the lines, see the wind flowing through the fields.
She ran as fast as she could, faster than she had since she was a child.
Fields of flowers, my friend. Fields of flowers. Pretty ones, poisonous ones, hell, even dead ones. You’d think those last two would scare me away. Haha. Nope.
yesterday’s word, what are you doing here?
i thought i left you long ago.
the fields were wide and twice as mean
as you were to me in the archipelago.
i don’t know what i’m writing
but it’s better than biting (my nails)
this makes no sense.
The semi-trailers trampled the fields of grass, their silhouettes sharp against the vivid reds of a rising sun. They were leviathans gliding across the surface of an ocean of guarded secrets, as their teeth crushed the fat, glistening blades and befell the wildflowers and bugs nestled between them, forming intertwining patterns in movements so random yet so sure, it seemed to any observer that they had to be with direction.
And with purpose they had come, for not only had their slaughter wrought ruin to a proudly groomed land, but it had also revealed the potholes and humps among the smooth plateaus of crumbling soil. In the end they left in quiet rumbles, and soon they were but dark dots in the horizon, leaving behind a land marred with faults both new and old, which lay naked under the scorching glare of a white hot sun.
There’s a gravitational field,
where thou must yield,
because even though a horse wants to chomp on a carrot,
that doesn’t mean the horse need clomp over another horse,
to eat,
there’s always more beets,
on other streets,
there’s always more hay,
The first instinct is one to listen to,
the second is one to glisten your tongue,
and prepare to speak through,
the third is an itch that must be scratched by another,
whether it be a hindering neimisis, or your brother.
fields in business, require expiation,
its a revelation, of a sensation,
that one gets when they connect with another,
the warm, feeling you get in your esophagus when you drink coffee;
stimulated and part of an impetus of righteous ethics,
and then visualize, all these party people,
up on a cloud, together,
laughing together,
growing together,
and never quail their endeavour to attain endeavours!
fields of flowers,,,, lavender felds…. france, smells, spring, romance, love, happiness in the air… a light and fragrant scent floating through the breeze…. colors…. vivid… beautiful, peace, harmony.
These were the fields where, he knew, lay the bones of generations of men like him. Hard-workers, tillers of the land and as mortal, as passing as the clouds that scudded now overhead, toward the west.
Fields remind me of the layers of the earth. There are so many but we really only ever see the top ones.
fields of cold running down my vision, head thumping and feeling all the repetition. A field of sickness.
Together
No matter the weather
We gather and flatter induced by the nether
We grow as we go and the time seems to flow for the better;
strawberry fields forever.
fields as long as the night sky
and twice as hungry
starry crevices form this eyelashes of daffodils and those puffy white wishing flowers.
dandelions.
i remember to forget how hungry the fields were
because they stole my breathe and my words too.
fields stretch on
and on
and on
but i can’t seem to catch them.
the fleet past the corners of my eyes
they gather on my cheeks and i brush them away
i scratch my nails and there they are
but i can never capture them
no matter how hard i try.
i walk through the fields with my friends.
everything is fine, we pick flowers and hold hands.
a storm cloud is on the horizon, we run inside.
i like the summer when it’s mine.
where did the fields come from?
that’s what they asked me once.
i know, i couldnt believe it either
I’m walking through fields of flowers and I hear the tall grasses shuffling behind me as she chases me. Her laughter echoes through the pastures and I feel her warmth enveloping me even though she’s still not near. I turn back and watch her hair bouncing as she skips towards me; always laughing. Her green eyes shining as they face the sun; the sun should be so grateful.
I love her.
Wide and open. Dandelions, sunflowers. Warmth. String of sunlight on your freckled cheeks. Butterflies. In my stomach, in the fields.
fields grass sound of music wheat theresa may theresa may it feels grass sheep long meadowed expanse of daisy buttercup flat green palm against hand slapped white windows blue lockscreen
Fields and field what exactly do they mean? who knows it is a word that was created long before we were alive.Grass fields are a example though.
I have seen plenty of fields, grass fields, lawn fields and even ocean fields. It also depends on what context you are using the word field. There are plenty ways to use it.
I’m beginning to suspect you slipped a magnet into my bag when I went away. No matter how far afield I stray, I feel hints of you: subtle intimations through luminiferous ether.
I would love to play hide and go seek in a huge field but at the same time it would take a long time trying to find anyone!
the fields is where the little boy spent most of his day. he was always hard at work on the fields, his daddy never let him have a day off. he was so sick and tired of working the fields that he wanted to run away.
The fields were a bright green. The sun shone on them so nicely. It always makes me thank my God every time I see them. I thank Him for the beautiful fields He provides for you and me!
Fields of clover, fields of danger, of dead things lying there, waiting to be found amidst live and beautiful things springing up: strawberries, marigolds, wheat and corn… Tilled fields, barren of all but Hope; fields of work, rides to the dungeon or the stars; force fields to be slammed against on a outer space trek. And if all these fields existed as one, would it be called Dystopia?
World war two, Normandy Fields. The rows of poppies with the pretty contrast of the green grass and the blues skies. I love the balance of the beauty and the horror there, it comforts you that all those lives that were lost can rest in peace knowing that the world is still beautiful.
World war two, Normandy. When I see the word fields the first thing that comes to mind is Normandy, I can see it so clearly. The rows of poppies with the pretty contrast of the green grass and the blues skies. I love the balance of the beauty and the horror there, you are standing in the fields where so many good people died and you have the feeling of sadness but then you get a bit of hope and comfort in the fact that it is still pretty there. I like that because it comforts you that all those lives that were lost can rest in peace knowing that the world is still beautiful.
oh how i love feilds they have doves,ducks and all kinds of birds.
The Fields of Asphodel were brimming with the ghosts of sunflowers.
They danced to memories of the summer breeze, and brightened for the spirits that drifted past them, ignorant of the absent sunlight and coarse, cracked ground.
I think about you leading my by the hand, and I am delighted. I am free, and I am light. I look around me and all I see are the green green fields and the yellow yellow poppy flowers. The blue blue sky takes me away. and you, you keep me grounded here. but I can’t see your face.
Fields of the world have given a fruition and placed the the thoughts of wheat of harvesting the fusion.
This Halloween, the pumpkin fields are in real danger. A formidable religious sect of chocolate bunnies is merging, plotting a hideous flash mob for these ridiculous and loathsome festivities.There is only one thing they do not take into account: they will not ridicule this holiday, they will realise its very essence: every single pumpkin will be torn out, smashed on the street and arranged in a bunny-shape, lit by candles and carved in like easter eggs – this will be a truly awful Halloween-experience for the kidos.
The fields of Ukraine are iconic. The colors of the flag are blue for the sky and then yellow for the beautiful fields.
Fields are an important part of my life in the sense that without them, I would not have anything to coach the sport that I love the most. Football is my passion and where my passion comes to life is out on the football field. Its the same place where 100 young men get to live out their dream at the same time as I do.
They say that if you find the fields of dying wheat just outside town, you’ll catch a glimpse of a colony, where the inhabitants are almost human. They dig holes in the dirt where it’s dry and yields no fruit or life, and when night falls, each ditch glows as if lit by a thousand embers or laughing fireflies.
my worries are like fields stretching as far as the eye can see
you are the reaper of my fields
you work hard day and night
in the rain and the burning sun
you yank from the roots
you till my land
you open me up for better things
There was once a boy who lived on a ranch with his grandpapa. They harvested corn every spring and wheat every autumn. One terrible day happened when Grandpapa passed away and the boy had to continue selling the crops every day at the bazaar until he had enough money to help his older brother move to the metropolis.
I dream of fields. Big, spacious, wide open fields. Bright orange California Poppies in full bloom and giant, sturdy trees swaying in the light breeze. I can ride my horse for miles through the blue bonnets growing in the noon day sun. This is my go to place, my private happy place. I may go there soon…it is waiting for me.
strawberry fields…
Done