one time a little kid had a pouch. he took the pouch and put money in it so he could buy a puppy. he loved puppies. since he was getting all this money to put in his pouch he was going to be able to purchase a pup. so he went and did chores for people. it would be the neighbors his family and everyone. finally he got enough money for the puppy
Pouch….Kangaroos! Kangaroos are the cutest animal ever! I’m listening to that song at the moment! They are defiantly one of the greatest creatures there are. And they have pouches! Really cute ones! They are lucky they always have a pocket to hold things in. Mainly they use it for babies.
There’s a spot in my heart made for you, I tuck you in and hope you’ll stay there forever. I want you safe within its chambers, kept warm by the metronome beat.
A pouch in which to carry all my worldly goods of which there are few. A pouch to carry a snatch of love and a parcel of hope. A pouch in which to carry life. A pouch to hold memories. A pouch for the good ones and the bad. What do you hold?
A simple one, of the softest leather imaginable. It sat impeccable, as if it was never touched. What it may have contained nobody knew. It was a mystery to all that set their sights on it. But how did one know it was crafted of buttery leather?
He reached into his pouch
a bag of magic tricks
still moving shadows crouch
their target still to fix
And though my view he often bars
this once he let me pry
to see how he pulled out the stars
and patterned out the sky
The tiny pockets that I’ve stored so deep within my soul hold more than just insignificance and waste. They hold the hopes and dreams I dwelled on that culminated into nothing. And instead of being hidden they dwindle in my mind everyday, like the haunted memories of those I’ve loved.
They never tell you what’s in the pouch. They just say, “Keep it safe, or else…” They never finish the sentence. You never find out what the ‘or else’ means. You just follow their instructions, because you know if you don’t, bad things will happen.
i stored whatever was left of the money i had spent that evening at the inn back into my worn leather pouch. It bounced lightly against my hip as i walked, reminding me of how little money i truly had.
“What’s this?” she asked confused, holding up the pouch.
“This. Is something incredibly important. “You can fit whatever you need into it. it’s something you need to keep with you at all times. Keep everything that’s necessary for you to immediately live in it. You never know when we’ll be attacked and you’ll need to run. So keep it with you.”
“What should I put in it?”
“Money, phone, notebook, pens, camera, ID’s, and your ring. Those are the things you need. Oh and your runes I suppose.”
“Hmmm that’s sad.” she mused.
He turned to her again, “Sad?”
“Well the idea that if I needed to, I could simply run away with this tiny bag.”
The pouch was metallic and an odd-looking color of green. Where it came from? Who the hell knows? What did this pouch contain? How did it arrive on the door-step of what used to be the home I lived in? I guess I will never know- the pouch had a padlock on it.
i put things in my pouch. i wish i was a kangaroo..they have pouches for their young..but i dont want a kid…that would suck, im only 16 i mean come on…i like pouches for storing purposes…they make me really happy.
I was a Kangaroo in a show once. I had balloons in hip pockets and a baby kangaroo in my pouch. I remember i kept pins in the baby kangaroo’s head to pop the balloons. but I had a pouch. And I know it’s not the most original thing ever, but it’s what the word reminds me of.
If I had an infinitely large pouch, I’d put all sorts of things in it. Things that would whizz around inside it, and things that would pop and squish and whirl. I’d have a colony of ants in there, keeping everything organized. Sometimes everything would pop out to say hello to the world…
As I stand on the edge of the world,
pondering my own mortality, I am
reminded of how I got here. A bad
egg in the pouch. It’s a fitting end
to someone such as myself: half
comical, half grave. I realize that
I will only miss one thing from this
world, the only thing worth protecting.
Is it wrong to protect it with a lie?
I have one. It’s small and it’s leather- you’d think that I would feel weird about carrying something made out of a dead cow’s skin- but it’s really not if you don’t think about it. A lot of things aren’t what they are if you think about it- you’re not who you are if you think about it. Why do we then impose our own thoughts onto our observations?
A velveteen patch was fastened to his hip. In it was everything he owned: two shillings, some string, and a polished stone.
He hadn’t much money, and the string was useless, at least at that time, but the tiny, seemingly insignificant rock—
The stone was what burned in his pocket, what burned in his mind; he could never forget the look in her face when she handed it to him and said goodbye.
She looked down at him and panic filled her eyes. Before she could freeze up though, she sprang into action. She grabbed the first aid kit from her pouch, and knelt beside him. She carefully and quickly cleaned and bandaged his wound.
Now, all they had to do was wait.
Wait for someone to save them, or wait until they could save themselves.
This bright eyed girl with her face smashed up against the windowpane staring at what she longed for the most; fiddling with her fingers she worried about what to say. Much to her dismay a rush of wind flew past her scattering leaves everywhere, her mother rushed her away from the window display; her eyes never left the beautiful pouch (bag) she yearned for.
She pulled from her pouch a dead watch, a canned ham, pickles, toothpaste, a reefer, an apple, a gyroscope and a map of Tunisia, murmuring, “Will this help?”.
pouch is a funny word. kangarros have pouches and i just want to sit in it and be all snuggly! in a kangaroo pouch with my kangaroo mother all snuggly and such! :)
My pouch of dreams is full of wonders. You can imagine what bizarre things I have in it. From going to Paris to becoming a known author.. my pouch has it all! :)
when i first saw this i thought it said porn. oh my.
well pouch reminds me of a fanny pack which is a cool nerdy purse. and if a guy i liked had this i’d tease him.
I already wrote a story about a pouch, but this new pouch contains my old story about the pouch. aka. This pouch is holding a story about a pouch. Which is ironic..
A pouch holds all sorts of things. I wish I had one like the puch Hermione has in HArry Potter where it hold everything! That would be so cool cause I could backpack without having a huge pack and that would give me the freedom to explore more.
I put everything in there. Everything I love and need? Childhood memories. Momentos of events long past. I store it in my closet. It’s a secret place I goto when I need a smile. I love recalling old memories. They make me giggle at the most inopportune times. Like when I’m atmy desk at work or on the bus surrounded by strangers. I have forgotten what some of my tokens represent. Some over the years have taken on new meaning for me. Better memories I hope. I have pictures, lots of movie stubs. Balloons and old keychains. A cracked mirror with my name on it.
there was a kangaroo named Ned. ned was a girl, even though her name was ned. ned had a pouch. ned carried a baby in her pouch. it name was daniel. ned loved daniel very much. very very much but one day ned
There once was a kangaroo with a baby in it’s pouch. I wanted to see a closer look but I didn’t want to scare them, so I just took a picture and now I could see them all I want, whenever I want.
one time a little kid had a pouch. he took the pouch and put money in it so he could buy a puppy. he loved puppies. since he was getting all this money to put in his pouch he was going to be able to purchase a pup. so he went and did chores for people. it would be the neighbors his family and everyone. finally he got enough money for the puppy
Pouch….Kangaroos! Kangaroos are the cutest animal ever! I’m listening to that song at the moment! They are defiantly one of the greatest creatures there are. And they have pouches! Really cute ones! They are lucky they always have a pocket to hold things in. Mainly they use it for babies.
There’s a spot in my heart made for you, I tuck you in and hope you’ll stay there forever. I want you safe within its chambers, kept warm by the metronome beat.
rhyme with couch. and i am siting on one wit the girl i love the night before she leaves for school. ouch.
A pouch in which to carry all my worldly goods of which there are few. A pouch to carry a snatch of love and a parcel of hope. A pouch in which to carry life. A pouch to hold memories. A pouch for the good ones and the bad. What do you hold?
A simple one, of the softest leather imaginable. It sat impeccable, as if it was never touched. What it may have contained nobody knew. It was a mystery to all that set their sights on it. But how did one know it was crafted of buttery leather?
He reached into his pouch
a bag of magic tricks
still moving shadows crouch
their target still to fix
And though my view he often bars
this once he let me pry
to see how he pulled out the stars
and patterned out the sky
Kangaroos have those.
Also, Capri Suns come in pouches.
I think that word is kind of weird to be honest.
The tiny pockets that I’ve stored so deep within my soul hold more than just insignificance and waste. They hold the hopes and dreams I dwelled on that culminated into nothing. And instead of being hidden they dwindle in my mind everyday, like the haunted memories of those I’ve loved.
The words he never got to say
The kiss he never got to give
The ring he never got to offer
Come to rest on his relentless, unforgiving heart.
The idea of a kangaroo baby in its mother’s pouch is cute, but I saw a video of a joey popping out and it just looked so weird.
They never tell you what’s in the pouch. They just say, “Keep it safe, or else…” They never finish the sentence. You never find out what the ‘or else’ means. You just follow their instructions, because you know if you don’t, bad things will happen.
i stored whatever was left of the money i had spent that evening at the inn back into my worn leather pouch. It bounced lightly against my hip as i walked, reminding me of how little money i truly had.
“What’s this?” she asked confused, holding up the pouch.
“This. Is something incredibly important. “You can fit whatever you need into it. it’s something you need to keep with you at all times. Keep everything that’s necessary for you to immediately live in it. You never know when we’ll be attacked and you’ll need to run. So keep it with you.”
“What should I put in it?”
“Money, phone, notebook, pens, camera, ID’s, and your ring. Those are the things you need. Oh and your runes I suppose.”
“Hmmm that’s sad.” she mused.
He turned to her again, “Sad?”
“Well the idea that if I needed to, I could simply run away with this tiny bag.”
The pouch was metallic and an odd-looking color of green. Where it came from? Who the hell knows? What did this pouch contain? How did it arrive on the door-step of what used to be the home I lived in? I guess I will never know- the pouch had a padlock on it.
i put things in my pouch. i wish i was a kangaroo..they have pouches for their young..but i dont want a kid…that would suck, im only 16 i mean come on…i like pouches for storing purposes…they make me really happy.
I was a Kangaroo in a show once. I had balloons in hip pockets and a baby kangaroo in my pouch. I remember i kept pins in the baby kangaroo’s head to pop the balloons. but I had a pouch. And I know it’s not the most original thing ever, but it’s what the word reminds me of.
If I had an infinitely large pouch, I’d put all sorts of things in it. Things that would whizz around inside it, and things that would pop and squish and whirl. I’d have a colony of ants in there, keeping everything organized. Sometimes everything would pop out to say hello to the world…
Outpouch.
There once was a magical pouch, and when you stuck your hand in it, and pulled it out inside of the pouch you’d find everything you’ve ever wanted.
As I stand on the edge of the world,
pondering my own mortality, I am
reminded of how I got here. A bad
egg in the pouch. It’s a fitting end
to someone such as myself: half
comical, half grave. I realize that
I will only miss one thing from this
world, the only thing worth protecting.
Is it wrong to protect it with a lie?
kangaroo’s sleeping place. a spot to keep little things. what dumb people refer to as their belly fat. cross between potato & couch.
I have one. It’s small and it’s leather- you’d think that I would feel weird about carrying something made out of a dead cow’s skin- but it’s really not if you don’t think about it. A lot of things aren’t what they are if you think about it- you’re not who you are if you think about it. Why do we then impose our own thoughts onto our observations?
All these thoughts, from a small pouch.
Word
A velveteen patch was fastened to his hip. In it was everything he owned: two shillings, some string, and a polished stone.
He hadn’t much money, and the string was useless, at least at that time, but the tiny, seemingly insignificant rock—
The stone was what burned in his pocket, what burned in his mind; he could never forget the look in her face when she handed it to him and said goodbye.
She looked down at him and panic filled her eyes. Before she could freeze up though, she sprang into action. She grabbed the first aid kit from her pouch, and knelt beside him. She carefully and quickly cleaned and bandaged his wound.
Now, all they had to do was wait.
Wait for someone to save them, or wait until they could save themselves.
This bright eyed girl with her face smashed up against the windowpane staring at what she longed for the most; fiddling with her fingers she worried about what to say. Much to her dismay a rush of wind flew past her scattering leaves everywhere, her mother rushed her away from the window display; her eyes never left the beautiful pouch (bag) she yearned for.
I filled it with rocks. My dad smiled. I was a rock person, so was he. We watch as the rocks fall out into the hot sun. Rocks of memories.
She pulled from her pouch a dead watch, a canned ham, pickles, toothpaste, a reefer, an apple, a gyroscope and a map of Tunisia, murmuring, “Will this help?”.
pouch is a funny word. kangarros have pouches and i just want to sit in it and be all snuggly! in a kangaroo pouch with my kangaroo mother all snuggly and such! :)
My pouch of dreams is full of wonders. You can imagine what bizarre things I have in it. From going to Paris to becoming a known author.. my pouch has it all! :)
when i first saw this i thought it said porn. oh my.
well pouch reminds me of a fanny pack which is a cool nerdy purse. and if a guy i liked had this i’d tease him.
it holds things
easy to carry
five-letter word
starts with a p
I already wrote a story about a pouch, but this new pouch contains my old story about the pouch. aka. This pouch is holding a story about a pouch. Which is ironic..
A pouch holds all sorts of things. I wish I had one like the puch Hermione has in HArry Potter where it hold everything! That would be so cool cause I could backpack without having a huge pack and that would give me the freedom to explore more.
I put everything in there. Everything I love and need? Childhood memories. Momentos of events long past. I store it in my closet. It’s a secret place I goto when I need a smile. I love recalling old memories. They make me giggle at the most inopportune times. Like when I’m atmy desk at work or on the bus surrounded by strangers. I have forgotten what some of my tokens represent. Some over the years have taken on new meaning for me. Better memories I hope. I have pictures, lots of movie stubs. Balloons and old keychains. A cracked mirror with my name on it.
lol wut
there was a kangaroo named Ned. ned was a girl, even though her name was ned. ned had a pouch. ned carried a baby in her pouch. it name was daniel. ned loved daniel very much. very very much but one day ned
There once was a kangaroo with a baby in it’s pouch. I wanted to see a closer look but I didn’t want to scare them, so I just took a picture and now I could see them all I want, whenever I want.
There once was a pouch. This pouch was on the side of a camel carrying a bottle of wine for Moses to drink on his great exodus to the Promised Land.