Pines.. She couldn’t see the beautiful trees any longer, all that remained was the dry, uncomfortable cones. The same circle, the same pattern, repeated till the bitter end. It wasn’t just one cone under the mattress, but a whole effing mountain. She didn’t even bother to count them. Anyway, they were always the same, eternally.
There was nothing left for them. Disease and famine had drove them away from their home. They were forced across the plains of America to live in the most desolate and worthless of places. There many died with red blood in their hearts. Concentrated in camps and subjected to sadness of a once free land. And the natives fell, like the pines from tree.
The pines on the trees shivered in the cold, winter breeze. They longed for it to be spring again so they could warm up. The pines liked the cold for a little, but after a while it got old. They were tired of winter and snow
The sharp scent of the needles pricked my nose. I felt my way over a mossy log, unable to see in the morning light. The hairs on the back of my neck stood erect; in the distance, I could hear dogs barking. And they sounded like they were getting closer.
They are nice tall trees with their branches and spines pointing out. there are a few computer graphic card brands named after pines. Some fruits like pineapple also contain the word pine. Some ice creams are called Pinachick.
Pines are good i dnt know the meaning exactly but pines looks like it is made up of five words. as much as i know pine tree is grown in the hilly areas in the north of india they are very tall and thick.
absolute nothingness, a void, still, tranquil, as if in the vacuum of space, no sound other than the blood rushing through your head, between your ears, your own heartbeat louder than anything else around you
The modern English name pine derives from Latin pinus which some have traced to the Indo-European base *pīt- ‘resin’ (source of English pituitary.[2] In the past (pre-19th century) they were often known as fir, from Old Norse fyrre, by way of Middle English firre. The Old Norse name is still used for pines in some modern north European languages, in Danish fyr, in Norwegian fura/fure/furu, Swedish fura/furu, Dutch vuren, and Föhre in German, but in modern English, fir is now restricted to Fir (Abies) and Douglas-fir (Pseudotsuga). Pine belongs to a group of seed-producing plants called gymnosperms.
pines is a pokey thing on a tree and i dont like hiking through those because it goes down my coat and i got to take my coat off and take all them off especially when its fall alot fall on you. most of the trees around here always has some kind of pines on it.
absolute nothingness, a void, still, tranquil, as if in the vacuum of space, no sound other than the blood rushing through your head, between your ears, your own heartbeat louder than anything else around you
“I’ve still never seen anything like it,” he said. “The firs and pines are taller than you’d think life could stretch. The forests aren’t bits of woods here and there. They stretch like oceans, far as the eye can see, covering the hills and valleys all the way to the horizon. For all I know, those forests run to the end of the earth. If I wanted, I could follow them there, climb the tallest tree that stands on the pole itself, and from there see all the world, all the sky, and the very planets beyond.”
Wind whistled through the pines on the mountain. A shriek pierced the air. Somewhere a mountain lion pounced on the back of an unsuspecting deer. It quickly crumpled to ground under the cat’s weight.
She was distraught. He had left her, alone, in this old house, without so much as a “goodbye.” She took out a picture of him and ran her finger over his hair, his face, his lips. She pined for him. She hadn’t eaten in days. She couldn’t think, couldn’t sleep. All she could do was sit there, tears streaming steadily from her eyes.
She caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned toward it and saw him. A sob of relief and joy escaped her throat. She rushed toward him, threw herself into his arms, buried her face in his neck. He was back. Everything would be okay now.
a movie, beyond the pines. i don’t even know what that word means. what is a pine? why would they make a movie about that? isn’t it stupid? can i get an other word?
my heart pines for something more than i can explain. the desire eats me up every single night. and i search and search and search far and wide, i look to places in desperation. yet i know i will never find it.
i pine for something more. something that this earth cannot satisfy.
they are coooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool
She wondered why the pine trees and the pine cones sounded so similar to the way she pined for Julia, she wondered if the trees had lost something and longed to have it back the way she did.
Up and up and up and up and up the pines grow. Ponderosa pines, the high desert, smelling of spice and vanilla. I remember childhood moments, nose pressed into the trunks, wishing I could take the fragrance away with me.
oh how I loved E! I woke every day with her name in my head. I would pull the covers over my head and remember something different about her every day.
they shook in the broken air of a giant’s breath as he lumbered through the pines over the facets of human buildings and his shadow long and stooped sadly observed so high up and so destructive the happiness of the tiny things below among the shade of the pines.
Stunning. Beautiful. Everlasting green. Here I am in the forest wondering how these pines can live to see the wole year. Never fading, never withering. They are a true monument of logevity.
pines pins trees
needles, splinters sharp
hurt, pain suffiering
green forest, dark floor
leaves twigs ants
beetles mud footprints
sun stream bare bark
naked trees
death sorry
lofty pines and scabbed knees
scattered things
clinging to everything
falling short
in a blue blazer
Pines.. She couldn’t see the beautiful trees any longer, all that remained was the dry, uncomfortable cones. The same circle, the same pattern, repeated till the bitter end. It wasn’t just one cone under the mattress, but a whole effing mountain. She didn’t even bother to count them. Anyway, they were always the same, eternally.
the curve of your ear looks
like the smooth hollow
of a conch shell
if i whispered into it
i wonder if i would sound
just like the ocean
something vast and lovely
and admired by you
(for once.)
There was nothing left for them. Disease and famine had drove them away from their home. They were forced across the plains of America to live in the most desolate and worthless of places. There many died with red blood in their hearts. Concentrated in camps and subjected to sadness of a once free land. And the natives fell, like the pines from tree.
The pines on the trees shivered in the cold, winter breeze. They longed for it to be spring again so they could warm up. The pines liked the cold for a little, but after a while it got old. They were tired of winter and snow
The sharp scent of the needles pricked my nose. I felt my way over a mossy log, unable to see in the morning light. The hairs on the back of my neck stood erect; in the distance, I could hear dogs barking. And they sounded like they were getting closer.
They are nice tall trees with their branches and spines pointing out. there are a few computer graphic card brands named after pines. Some fruits like pineapple also contain the word pine. Some ice creams are called Pinachick.
Pines are good i dnt know the meaning exactly but pines looks like it is made up of five words. as much as i know pine tree is grown in the hilly areas in the north of india they are very tall and thick.
trees, fall, sap, birds
trees, fall, sap
absolute nothingness, a void, still, tranquil, as if in the vacuum of space, no sound other than the blood rushing through your head, between your ears, your own heartbeat louder than anything else around you
I needle type thing that hurts when you walk through it. Its on a tree.
The modern English name pine derives from Latin pinus which some have traced to the Indo-European base *pīt- ‘resin’ (source of English pituitary.[2] In the past (pre-19th century) they were often known as fir, from Old Norse fyrre, by way of Middle English firre. The Old Norse name is still used for pines in some modern north European languages, in Danish fyr, in Norwegian fura/fure/furu, Swedish fura/furu, Dutch vuren, and Föhre in German, but in modern English, fir is now restricted to Fir (Abies) and Douglas-fir (Pseudotsuga). Pine belongs to a group of seed-producing plants called gymnosperms.
pines is a pokey thing on a tree and i dont like hiking through those because it goes down my coat and i got to take my coat off and take all them off especially when its fall alot fall on you. most of the trees around here always has some kind of pines on it.
plant,
plant, pointy,
absolute nothingness, a void, still, tranquil, as if in the vacuum of space, no sound other than the blood rushing through your head, between your ears, your own heartbeat louder than anything else around you
“I’ve still never seen anything like it,” he said. “The firs and pines are taller than you’d think life could stretch. The forests aren’t bits of woods here and there. They stretch like oceans, far as the eye can see, covering the hills and valleys all the way to the horizon. For all I know, those forests run to the end of the earth. If I wanted, I could follow them there, climb the tallest tree that stands on the pole itself, and from there see all the world, all the sky, and the very planets beyond.”
Wind whistled through the pines on the mountain. A shriek pierced the air. Somewhere a mountain lion pounced on the back of an unsuspecting deer. It quickly crumpled to ground under the cat’s weight.
She was distraught. He had left her, alone, in this old house, without so much as a “goodbye.” She took out a picture of him and ran her finger over his hair, his face, his lips. She pined for him. She hadn’t eaten in days. She couldn’t think, couldn’t sleep. All she could do was sit there, tears streaming steadily from her eyes.
She caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned toward it and saw him. A sob of relief and joy escaped her throat. She rushed toward him, threw herself into his arms, buried her face in his neck. He was back. Everything would be okay now.
a movie, beyond the pines. i don’t even know what that word means. what is a pine? why would they make a movie about that? isn’t it stupid? can i get an other word?
my heart pines for something more than i can explain. the desire eats me up every single night. and i search and search and search far and wide, i look to places in desperation. yet i know i will never find it.
i pine for something more. something that this earth cannot satisfy.
they are coooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool
The tangy scent of pine sap tingled in his nose as he pressed his palms against the bank.
they are trees. they grow from the dirt. they need sun and water. they are evergreens. They are tall.
She wondered why the pine trees and the pine cones sounded so similar to the way she pined for Julia, she wondered if the trees had lost something and longed to have it back the way she did.
There were three things he missed about being a child:
1. The small patch of pines in the northwest pasture.
2. Shifting the gears in the blue truck.
3. The car rack.
Some of the sweetest memories involve seemingly insignificant things.
Up and up and up and up and up the pines grow. Ponderosa pines, the high desert, smelling of spice and vanilla. I remember childhood moments, nose pressed into the trunks, wishing I could take the fragrance away with me.
oh how I loved E! I woke every day with her name in my head. I would pull the covers over my head and remember something different about her every day.
like thick viens pulled
up from earth-skin
by cloud-god
palm against bark
heat might be from sun
might be from
high up heart
they shook in the broken air of a giant’s breath as he lumbered through the pines over the facets of human buildings and his shadow long and stooped sadly observed so high up and so destructive the happiness of the tiny things below among the shade of the pines.
Stunning. Beautiful. Everlasting green. Here I am in the forest wondering how these pines can live to see the wole year. Never fading, never withering. They are a true monument of logevity.
pines pins trees
needles, splinters sharp
hurt, pain suffiering
green forest, dark floor
leaves twigs ants
beetles mud footprints
sun stream bare bark
naked trees
death sorry
Reaching, grasping, holding –
Grip slips. You fall.
Away they turn, away they go.
Gone, gone, gone.
You’ve stopped, waiting, tearful
alone