eu nem sequer sei o que esta palavra significa. acho que sim. é dizer palavrões acho eu. eu não sei o que penso disso. as pessoas as vezes precisam de dizer. não sei. eu digo toda a gente devia dizer. faz parte das pessoas. para expulsar tudo o que tem dentro delas nao
The eagle perched on top of the rugged cliff top. The sun shone with it’s searing heat. The eagle spied the helpless child below. It took flight, it began to soar.
I hate Eagles. Not eagles, exactly. I hate my father, who left me and my mom in 1999, who happen to love eagles and put them everywhere he could. On his dresser, his dashboard, around his neck. He sure loved eagles. Just wish he loved us as much as he loved them.
Leave me to be free to cleave through the clouds and spread my wings then soar to the highest point in space imaginable leaving all my cares and worries behind.
Soaring. A word that has meant for the human race to think beyond. To soar beyond the clouds, to soar to space, and to continue of the curious life as human beings. A thing that we all must accomplish and something that everyone dreams to do.
Chris couldn’t believe it- he was doing it! Finally, after years, and years, and years of hard, grueling work, he had made the device that was going to let him fly.
The bird didn’t look like much. Plain blue-colored feathers with what appears to be a grain of something sticking at the bottom of its beak. It seems like it’s about to crash. It does. And it dies.
We zip around the room, arms outstretched, pretending to fly airplanes. Every child is a pilot, tilting wings this way and that, swooping in curves as their feet zoom around the big circle. The eyes of the elderly grandmothers crinkle as they watch.
the bright blue was both above and below. Somehow. And my nightgown (that I don’t wear) wafted behind me. And there were more fluffy clouds than I had ever seen. And it was the lightest I had ever felt. And I was flying.
I soared high above the clouds and watched the tiny people below me.
I could only describe the feeling as free. I felt free from all worries, distractions, just..life. I wanted to break away and never go back.
Every time I hear the news I soar through my thoughts like an eagle plummeting to the edge of the lake to pluck out a fish vicariously swimming through out its day as if it was reading the mornings newspaper or having its coffee.
I will fly high. I will soar in my job. Having more confidence, doing additional tasks, taking ownership and responsibility in my position. The sky is limitless, my opportunities are endless
Every time I go to the top of the mountain I see y self leaping off and soaring throughout the town no one noticing me above them but moving like an eagle amongst its prey waiting for the right moment to come crashing down upon the earth.
I am soaring above the world. Only the wind on my face. Seagulls below. I am higher. I have power. Sunshine beating my wings. Wind pounding in my ears. Nothing to disturb me.
A bird flies without needing to dream, but when humans fly it is because of dreams. The wright brother turned bicycle mechanics into gliders. We have gone to the moon, and every day thousands of us cross the sea hoping for beauty or a better life. We soar and it seems almost normal, but even the most serious individual can’t help but feel wonder looking at the world tiny down below.
She’s flying away and yet you’re stuck on the ground, staring up a the blinking red dot in the night sky, irrationally hoping that she can see you watching her, and that she’s looking back at you. She didn’t have much of a choice when it came to leaving, so why did you still hope she would stay?
The sky so open so free. I stretched out my arms as far as they could go – attempting the wingspan of a condor. On the edge of the cliff with one step, I soar.
I finally decide to do it. Fear will no longer hold me back… I have seen her do it. The way she is able to just, soar through the sky. How she dives off the cliff without a moment of hesitation. Now, its my turn. I will finally know what it feels like.
I’m a bird. An eagle. Once I was a chick, but a grew and grew, from my mother’s love and feeding and nurturing. And one day, I flew. I didn’t learn, I just did; and I soared.
I always soar in my dreams. But I have to swim upwards until I attain the height required for flight. I am vulnerable in this state. Especially if I’m having to swim upwards while a giant approaches me. But I like to fly, so I keep doing it.
i was driving and the lights blurred from my tears. i didn’t car what was a tail light and what was a headlight. i didn’t care. i bent my head and started to cry. then there was a blare of a horn, louder than i’d ever heard, a horrid twisting of metal, and i was thrown from my seat, through the windshield to soar through the night air.
I wind helped me feel like I was soaring through the air like a bird as I bounced up and down on the trampoline. The springs groaning and moaning every time they stretched and contracted. The trampoline allowed me to be alone and keep my thoughts in order so I don’t become overwhelmed.
I wished that I was a kite when I first saw you
I knew in that instant that you were going to be my judgement day,
and all I really wanted to do is soar far away from you, so that I could keep from memorizing how your face looked when you were about to smile.
With all his strength he threw the ring. It arched so high before disappearing to the bottom of the river. He was so proud. He never thought he could do it. He watched it soar so high, its brilliance faltered as it was hit by what was left of the sun’s rays that dusk, before completely being swallowed by the dark waters. He enjoyed the metaphor. Then he all of a sudden felt sick in his gut; he realized it was the stupidest thing he had done, aside of course from the fact that the he would never marry the love of his life, he had thrown away what could have been a lavish dinner. Sadly, he could have indulged the same metaphor by the pawnshop.
With all his strength he threw the ring. It arched so high before disappearing to the bottom of the river. He was so proud. He never thought he could do it. He watched it soar so high, its brilliance faltered as it was hit by what was left of the sun’s rays that dusk, before completely being swallowed by the dark waters. He enjoyed the metaphor. Then he all of a sudden felt sickness in his gut, he realized it was the stupidest thing he had done, aside of course from the fact that the he could never marry the love of his life, he had thrown away what could have been a lavish dinner. Sadly, he could have indulged the same metaphor by the pawnshop.
At first Icarus couldn’t even believe it. He had fallen so many times, he thought that he must be imagining the way the wind scooped him up now, pushing up at his wings and lifting him into the sky. He let go a breathless laugh. “I’m flying,” he murmured, and then, crowing for all the sky to hear: “I’M FLYING!”
He steps to the edge, wings flared in the chilling night. The city snarls below him, packed with lights and rumbling with smoke and footsteps. He steps back once, twice–stops. Then, with a running jump, his feet hit the edge, and he soars.
I soared over the countryside going higher and higher. The small village that had been my world faded into the background until it was a dot on the landscape behind me. Ahead of me, the world and space and adventure. Let the adventure begin.
fly high in the sky
fall low to the ground
i can’t fucking write so i think i will go pet my hound
writers block is a bitch but when i don’t have it i can write with soaring speed
a velocity unmeasurable to anything
fucking writers block.
the bird might soar but a voice soars higher. above what we conceive on a conscious level and into the heights of our souls. i’m not convinced that we have depth within us, but rather height. up, through our crown of our heads, through that chakra. and that’s where the voice takes us. up into the stratosphere where the overtones are.
I have seen many juliettes running from their romeo (remembrance)
too many trees shedding their leaves in this falling world
I am wistful; you are not lucid
I think of the many planes that have disappeared; I think of you. your smile
keeps me up in the clouds with them. So I can remember. How I felt, How I felt.
soaring above me is the gates to your faith that I try to follow. My own is full of lies and trembling. (remembrance).
I try to follow you, try to call to you. The lines ring clear of your voice each time.
I am trembling. Calling out to you, you tell me I am lucid. Tell me not to call your name any longer.
I always told you I wanted to be Juliette in the school play. You tell me no.
I listen. Go along with everyone else until I say
I am NOT lucid. I am far gone. No longer do I wish to be a part of your name. (remembrance)
and when I arrive you ask me why I am out of breath, I say.
velveteen as my heart, I am all too visible.
I wish I had wings. I wish they hadn’t been sawed off from my back when I was so little. But for the moment, I am happy that there is no chance I will not hit the ground. I need to hit the ground, need to know that I’m not going to feel anything any more. I don’t need to soar–I just need to feel that moment in the air for two seconds, that moment just before I hit the ground, just before I can’t think about wings ever again.
i dont know what soar means. Maybe i should look it up in the dictionary but when i thought of starting this activity i thought i would find a word i know. I’m not a native English speaker but usually i can read a wall of a text and be able to understand 90% of it.
His image seemed to flicker. I squinted and though it was maybe a trick of the rising sun. Like a mirror that had fallen over, the boy suddenly shattered. A million pieces of him looked as if they were about to soar out over a passing train. I gasped softly when the pieces all came together and he was sitting on top of the train as he had done it for his whole life.
eu nem sequer sei o que esta palavra significa. acho que sim. é dizer palavrões acho eu. eu não sei o que penso disso. as pessoas as vezes precisam de dizer. não sei. eu digo toda a gente devia dizer. faz parte das pessoas. para expulsar tudo o que tem dentro delas nao
The eagle perched on top of the rugged cliff top. The sun shone with it’s searing heat. The eagle spied the helpless child below. It took flight, it began to soar.
I hate Eagles. Not eagles, exactly. I hate my father, who left me and my mom in 1999, who happen to love eagles and put them everywhere he could. On his dresser, his dashboard, around his neck. He sure loved eagles. Just wish he loved us as much as he loved them.
Leave me to be free to cleave through the clouds and spread my wings then soar to the highest point in space imaginable leaving all my cares and worries behind.
Soaring. A word that has meant for the human race to think beyond. To soar beyond the clouds, to soar to space, and to continue of the curious life as human beings. A thing that we all must accomplish and something that everyone dreams to do.
Chris couldn’t believe it- he was doing it! Finally, after years, and years, and years of hard, grueling work, he had made the device that was going to let him fly.
To let him soar.
He picked up the wings and started his descent.
The bird didn’t look like much. Plain blue-colored feathers with what appears to be a grain of something sticking at the bottom of its beak. It seems like it’s about to crash. It does. And it dies.
Soaring Soaring Soaring, Airplanes are soaring!
We zip around the room, arms outstretched, pretending to fly airplanes. Every child is a pilot, tilting wings this way and that, swooping in curves as their feet zoom around the big circle. The eyes of the elderly grandmothers crinkle as they watch.
Sometimes you soar. Sometimes you crash.
the bright blue was both above and below. Somehow. And my nightgown (that I don’t wear) wafted behind me. And there were more fluffy clouds than I had ever seen. And it was the lightest I had ever felt. And I was flying.
I soared high above the clouds and watched the tiny people below me.
I could only describe the feeling as free. I felt free from all worries, distractions, just..life. I wanted to break away and never go back.
Every time I hear the news I soar through my thoughts like an eagle plummeting to the edge of the lake to pluck out a fish vicariously swimming through out its day as if it was reading the mornings newspaper or having its coffee.
I will fly high. I will soar in my job. Having more confidence, doing additional tasks, taking ownership and responsibility in my position. The sky is limitless, my opportunities are endless
Every time I go to the top of the mountain I see y self leaping off and soaring throughout the town no one noticing me above them but moving like an eagle amongst its prey waiting for the right moment to come crashing down upon the earth.
I am soaring above the world. Only the wind on my face. Seagulls below. I am higher. I have power. Sunshine beating my wings. Wind pounding in my ears. Nothing to disturb me.
A bird flies without needing to dream, but when humans fly it is because of dreams. The wright brother turned bicycle mechanics into gliders. We have gone to the moon, and every day thousands of us cross the sea hoping for beauty or a better life. We soar and it seems almost normal, but even the most serious individual can’t help but feel wonder looking at the world tiny down below.
She’s flying away and yet you’re stuck on the ground, staring up a the blinking red dot in the night sky, irrationally hoping that she can see you watching her, and that she’s looking back at you. She didn’t have much of a choice when it came to leaving, so why did you still hope she would stay?
The sky so open so free. I stretched out my arms as far as they could go – attempting the wingspan of a condor. On the edge of the cliff with one step, I soar.
I finally decide to do it. Fear will no longer hold me back… I have seen her do it. The way she is able to just, soar through the sky. How she dives off the cliff without a moment of hesitation. Now, its my turn. I will finally know what it feels like.
I’m a bird. An eagle. Once I was a chick, but a grew and grew, from my mother’s love and feeding and nurturing. And one day, I flew. I didn’t learn, I just did; and I soared.
I always soar in my dreams. But I have to swim upwards until I attain the height required for flight. I am vulnerable in this state. Especially if I’m having to swim upwards while a giant approaches me. But I like to fly, so I keep doing it.
i was driving and the lights blurred from my tears. i didn’t car what was a tail light and what was a headlight. i didn’t care. i bent my head and started to cry. then there was a blare of a horn, louder than i’d ever heard, a horrid twisting of metal, and i was thrown from my seat, through the windshield to soar through the night air.
we re soaring we re flying (high school musical ) lol
I wind helped me feel like I was soaring through the air like a bird as I bounced up and down on the trampoline. The springs groaning and moaning every time they stretched and contracted. The trampoline allowed me to be alone and keep my thoughts in order so I don’t become overwhelmed.
I wished that I was a kite when I first saw you
I knew in that instant that you were going to be my judgement day,
and all I really wanted to do is soar far away from you, so that I could keep from memorizing how your face looked when you were about to smile.
With all his strength he threw the ring. It arched so high before disappearing to the bottom of the river. He was so proud. He never thought he could do it. He watched it soar so high, its brilliance faltered as it was hit by what was left of the sun’s rays that dusk, before completely being swallowed by the dark waters. He enjoyed the metaphor. Then he all of a sudden felt sick in his gut; he realized it was the stupidest thing he had done, aside of course from the fact that the he would never marry the love of his life, he had thrown away what could have been a lavish dinner. Sadly, he could have indulged the same metaphor by the pawnshop.
With all his strength he threw the ring. It arched so high before disappearing to the bottom of the river. He was so proud. He never thought he could do it. He watched it soar so high, its brilliance faltered as it was hit by what was left of the sun’s rays that dusk, before completely being swallowed by the dark waters. He enjoyed the metaphor. Then he all of a sudden felt sickness in his gut, he realized it was the stupidest thing he had done, aside of course from the fact that the he could never marry the love of his life, he had thrown away what could have been a lavish dinner. Sadly, he could have indulged the same metaphor by the pawnshop.
At first Icarus couldn’t even believe it. He had fallen so many times, he thought that he must be imagining the way the wind scooped him up now, pushing up at his wings and lifting him into the sky. He let go a breathless laugh. “I’m flying,” he murmured, and then, crowing for all the sky to hear: “I’M FLYING!”
He steps to the edge, wings flared in the chilling night. The city snarls below him, packed with lights and rumbling with smoke and footsteps. He steps back once, twice–stops. Then, with a running jump, his feet hit the edge, and he soars.
I soared over the countryside going higher and higher. The small village that had been my world faded into the background until it was a dot on the landscape behind me. Ahead of me, the world and space and adventure. Let the adventure begin.
High. I want to fly over the sky. Love the air in my cheeks. Soaring over the world. Fearless. Dauntless. Free .
fly high in the sky
fall low to the ground
i can’t fucking write so i think i will go pet my hound
writers block is a bitch but when i don’t have it i can write with soaring speed
a velocity unmeasurable to anything
fucking writers block.
the bird might soar but a voice soars higher. above what we conceive on a conscious level and into the heights of our souls. i’m not convinced that we have depth within us, but rather height. up, through our crown of our heads, through that chakra. and that’s where the voice takes us. up into the stratosphere where the overtones are.
I have seen many juliettes running from their romeo (remembrance)
too many trees shedding their leaves in this falling world
I am wistful; you are not lucid
I think of the many planes that have disappeared; I think of you. your smile
keeps me up in the clouds with them. So I can remember. How I felt, How I felt.
soaring above me is the gates to your faith that I try to follow. My own is full of lies and trembling. (remembrance).
I try to follow you, try to call to you. The lines ring clear of your voice each time.
I am trembling. Calling out to you, you tell me I am lucid. Tell me not to call your name any longer.
I always told you I wanted to be Juliette in the school play. You tell me no.
I listen. Go along with everyone else until I say
I am NOT lucid. I am far gone. No longer do I wish to be a part of your name. (remembrance)
and when I arrive you ask me why I am out of breath, I say.
velveteen as my heart, I am all too visible.
If my spirits had wings that could fly like a bird I would soar away in the infirmity and escape from all my errant cares and worries
I wish I had wings. I wish they hadn’t been sawed off from my back when I was so little. But for the moment, I am happy that there is no chance I will not hit the ground. I need to hit the ground, need to know that I’m not going to feel anything any more. I don’t need to soar–I just need to feel that moment in the air for two seconds, that moment just before I hit the ground, just before I can’t think about wings ever again.
i dont know what soar means. Maybe i should look it up in the dictionary but when i thought of starting this activity i thought i would find a word i know. I’m not a native English speaker but usually i can read a wall of a text and be able to understand 90% of it.
as you soar with school you learn more!
His image seemed to flicker. I squinted and though it was maybe a trick of the rising sun. Like a mirror that had fallen over, the boy suddenly shattered. A million pieces of him looked as if they were about to soar out over a passing train. I gasped softly when the pieces all came together and he was sitting on top of the train as he had done it for his whole life.
My lips were soar. What just happened. Did we actually kiss? I felt my cheeks turn hot. I watched down to the ground. Soar. That was a weird word.