The trunk of a tree holds it in place. It grounds what would other wise fall. It is the support of life. Something all things need, but not all things have.
“well now”, said shane, “when are we going to drop jim off?” Maria looked at him with her huge brown eyes, and said with a coy smile “why, i think we could simply open the trunk and let him out on his own.”
I sat on the extended part of the truck in the back. We just sat there and kissed over and over for tomorrow was a day away. I never wanted it to come. I never wanted this moment to ever end for I love him for always and forever.
The trunk is dark,
and full of fear.
Sitting inside,
feels rather queer.
Soon I will see the light;
I have no fear.
Time is ticking,
things are clear.
The time has come;
The light is here.
there’s many uses for a trunk. I like to use my trunk for groceries mostly but I have put basically my entire life in my trunk. Not always clean but always useful thas for sure.
The trunk of a tree, the beginig of the journey to the top. How we ascend is our own choice, it is all about getting to the top. Or is it? Why not just climb the trunk high enough t be able toi see? We always want to get as high as possible.
The trunk had been kept beautifully. We were so protected, and unaware, and lest we did not forget, the trunk had kept us safe. We succeeded to embrace ourselves in a manner that nobody had seen before, and this had been the cause for success. Life had been flowing continuously and the trees and their trunks continued to thrive as well as we did. We were just as perfect as the trees seemed on that sunny summer day.
when it comes to my trunk i see it as a second home. it stores everything from clothes, to food, to random items of junk. i guess its all i need being homeless and all
James sat on his bed, his legs hanging over, thumping against the inside of the massive trunk he had just unpacked. Another school year. He glanced at the books arrayed on his shelf, now straight but which would soon lean over every which-way. He tried to overlay the enthusiasm he had felt when he moved in last year, when his shelf of textbooks gleamed in his eye like a trophy cabinet, when he swept his curtains back every morning with dramatic flair, as if boisterous Cambridge were the Grand Canyon. But all he could think was, when the hell is winter break coming?
We were all sitting in the trunk, my brothers and I. I remember clearly the sound of the rain .. the lights of the cars behind us reflecting on the window and rain drops magically, the thunder. My mom was driving us home and it was almost 10 30 pm and my mom thought we were sleeping. I could hear them talking, her and my dad.
“Put it in the trunk. Please. We don’t need to transport everything in the back seat.” She was tired of cleaning up sawdust, feathers, twigs, and stones from the car. He could carry his junk home in the trunk!
Alexandra stared at the dusty trunk. It’s paint was chipped and peeling. The locks, one large in the middle and the smaller ones on each side of that one, were beginning to rust. She touched a fingertip to its lid.
i opened the trunk to find not only my past, but maybe a small glimpse of my future. nestled in between a silk robe my mother swore she would never give me, and a felt hat was the photograph i had been looking for. old, yellow, tattered. a date scribbled in neat handwriting.
The tree must have been thousands of years old, its trunk was as wide as five full grown men arms’ length. Leander marveled at it, it must have seen so much history, this tree, so much pain, happiness, and life. All without ever saying a word.
So I packed my trunk and stepped outside. I could smell the country air and I wanted nothing more than to rid that scent from my brain. I wanted to forget. I left a note for Kurt and got on the 8:00 train.
Long, spindling fibers grazed the trunk of her neck, similar to the one in the graveyard. It’s been overgrown and overlooked, crooked nooks and tuberosities. Their spines come together to fall off the edge of the cliff, spiraling down to her delicate, fragile toes. All waiting to plunge off of mother earth to a place where her trunk may be any length, any colour, any strength to be loved.
If it weren’t for Woody Allen, he would never have learnt to see the funny side of things, the obtuse in the everyday or the absurd in his routine. Finding a body in his trunk would instead have been cause for alarm…
I like my truck. It has memories and fondness in it. I open it up and it makes that satisfying creaking sound as I lift the lid. It’s leather and old. I got it from an antique’s shop years ago. Ah, memories!
The truck pulling in to the driveway crooked and alittle on the lawn but the driver didn’t care he had been driving for days and all he wanted was to have the little girl running towards him in his arms. HOME.
The elephant his trunk lovingly around the burnt tree stump. This used to be his favourite resting place before men came to slash and burn his home stretch. He remembered using the tree trunk to scratch his back while lazing under the leafy canopy.
Junk in my trunk
Killed the hunk
We draw and we fight
Until the dusk of time.
We kill some time in the Trunk of our car
Duktaped hand and screaming for mercy.
i dont know whate trunk is…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
The trunk was lying locked up in the basement. It was really old and had a huge lock on it. all the children were so enraptured by tales of what was inside. No one had ever seen it open.
The trunk in my junky garage is up the creek without a paddle. Row row row your boat gently downtown, where all the lights are bright and the kittens in my room are scratching at cardboard, licking lips and making a ruckus of a mess.
Trunk. Who knows what to write about a trunk? Tree trunk? Trunk of a car? Midgets in the trunk of the car? Cats stuck in the tree. Seriously. i’m so confused, stuck, blocked on this. Help! I don’t get it! I’m running out of time.
there was a fire truck headed down the street, on the corner of an ave. invested with snails, although the truck had one passanger, he couldn’t see all the snails all over the road due to lack of vision. the dog in the front seat was barking to stop but being def as well he couldn’t t hear him and they slipped and caused a fire. how ironic
There was something fishy about his trunk. The entire car reeked of riches and expense, but the trunk was… empty. Empty in the cleanest of ways – clinical, like a murder had been committed and the bloodstains had been removed. It didn’t fit the image of the twenty-year-old daddy’s boy who got everything he ever wanted. Empty. He’d shout at her sometimes and become irrationally angry, and she would think of that clean trunk. She would fear his wrath and its consequences, shuddering at the endless CSI-related possiblities and hoping her overimaginative mind was dead wrong. Until one day, she no longer did.
The letters are grey and purple. All letters are at same level except the d. The word one is grey and the word word is purple. It was at the top right of the screen and half way shown.
On a car, on an elephant, on the end of a bed with all of your keepsakes in it. Bunk, sunk, clunk, dunk. Dunk basketball, sunk in a trunk in the back of a bunk. Knurt!
shoes
elephant
wrinkled
water
sorry I have no idea what this is…..
uhhh.
gray
travelling
clothes
The trunk of a tree holds it in place. It grounds what would other wise fall. It is the support of life. Something all things need, but not all things have.
the car had a very large accommodating trunk. It held stories. Family vacations, moving from Connecticut to Arizona, the move to college.
“well now”, said shane, “when are we going to drop jim off?” Maria looked at him with her huge brown eyes, and said with a coy smile “why, i think we could simply open the trunk and let him out on his own.”
I sat on the extended part of the truck in the back. We just sat there and kissed over and over for tomorrow was a day away. I never wanted it to come. I never wanted this moment to ever end for I love him for always and forever.
The trunk is dark,
and full of fear.
Sitting inside,
feels rather queer.
Soon I will see the light;
I have no fear.
Time is ticking,
things are clear.
The time has come;
The light is here.
there’s many uses for a trunk. I like to use my trunk for groceries mostly but I have put basically my entire life in my trunk. Not always clean but always useful thas for sure.
The trunk of a tree, the beginig of the journey to the top. How we ascend is our own choice, it is all about getting to the top. Or is it? Why not just climb the trunk high enough t be able toi see? We always want to get as high as possible.
The trunk had been kept beautifully. We were so protected, and unaware, and lest we did not forget, the trunk had kept us safe. We succeeded to embrace ourselves in a manner that nobody had seen before, and this had been the cause for success. Life had been flowing continuously and the trees and their trunks continued to thrive as well as we did. We were just as perfect as the trees seemed on that sunny summer day.
when it comes to my trunk i see it as a second home. it stores everything from clothes, to food, to random items of junk. i guess its all i need being homeless and all
there’s a trunk
underneath her
bed
hiding
secrets and
shadows
there was an odor pouring out of the car, originating from the trunk. just flooding out, absolutely rank. it was so strong i couldnt possibly cover it
James sat on his bed, his legs hanging over, thumping against the inside of the massive trunk he had just unpacked. Another school year. He glanced at the books arrayed on his shelf, now straight but which would soon lean over every which-way. He tried to overlay the enthusiasm he had felt when he moved in last year, when his shelf of textbooks gleamed in his eye like a trophy cabinet, when he swept his curtains back every morning with dramatic flair, as if boisterous Cambridge were the Grand Canyon. But all he could think was, when the hell is winter break coming?
We were all sitting in the trunk, my brothers and I. I remember clearly the sound of the rain .. the lights of the cars behind us reflecting on the window and rain drops magically, the thunder. My mom was driving us home and it was almost 10 30 pm and my mom thought we were sleeping. I could hear them talking, her and my dad.
We were in the trunk all wide awake.
“Put it in the trunk. Please. We don’t need to transport everything in the back seat.” She was tired of cleaning up sawdust, feathers, twigs, and stones from the car. He could carry his junk home in the trunk!
Alexandra stared at the dusty trunk. It’s paint was chipped and peeling. The locks, one large in the middle and the smaller ones on each side of that one, were beginning to rust. She touched a fingertip to its lid.
i opened the trunk to find not only my past, but maybe a small glimpse of my future. nestled in between a silk robe my mother swore she would never give me, and a felt hat was the photograph i had been looking for. old, yellow, tattered. a date scribbled in neat handwriting.
The tree must have been thousands of years old, its trunk was as wide as five full grown men arms’ length. Leander marveled at it, it must have seen so much history, this tree, so much pain, happiness, and life. All without ever saying a word.
um…..its a trunk wide it reminds me of stools the rings on a trunk tell me how old it is i do not know alot about trunks
So I packed my trunk and stepped outside. I could smell the country air and I wanted nothing more than to rid that scent from my brain. I wanted to forget. I left a note for Kurt and got on the 8:00 train.
Long, spindling fibers grazed the trunk of her neck, similar to the one in the graveyard. It’s been overgrown and overlooked, crooked nooks and tuberosities. Their spines come together to fall off the edge of the cliff, spiraling down to her delicate, fragile toes. All waiting to plunge off of mother earth to a place where her trunk may be any length, any colour, any strength to be loved.
If it weren’t for Woody Allen, he would never have learnt to see the funny side of things, the obtuse in the everyday or the absurd in his routine. Finding a body in his trunk would instead have been cause for alarm…
I like my truck. It has memories and fondness in it. I open it up and it makes that satisfying creaking sound as I lift the lid. It’s leather and old. I got it from an antique’s shop years ago. Ah, memories!
in the bodom of the trunk i see clutter and junk its really quite a mess aspeshally in mine
The truck pulling in to the driveway crooked and alittle on the lawn but the driver didn’t care he had been driving for days and all he wanted was to have the little girl running towards him in his arms. HOME.
One Love
I want to be an elephant with a giant trunk, so that I could make my own shower in summer, I could reach the top of the trees …
A box for keep sakes. The back of a car. The front of an elephant. Dark. Old. Scary. Big. Long.
big
heavy
warm
india
crops
goods
foods
old
helpful
noise
anywhere
The elephant his trunk lovingly around the burnt tree stump. This used to be his favourite resting place before men came to slash and burn his home stretch. He remembered using the tree trunk to scratch his back while lazing under the leafy canopy.
Junk in my trunk
Killed the hunk
We draw and we fight
Until the dusk of time.
We kill some time in the Trunk of our car
Duktaped hand and screaming for mercy.
i dont know whate trunk is…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
The trunk was lying locked up in the basement. It was really old and had a huge lock on it. all the children were so enraptured by tales of what was inside. No one had ever seen it open.
the main part of a tree
a storage for things
a back part of a car used for storing things
a nose part of an elephant
The trunk in my junky garage is up the creek without a paddle. Row row row your boat gently downtown, where all the lights are bright and the kittens in my room are scratching at cardboard, licking lips and making a ruckus of a mess.
Trunk. Who knows what to write about a trunk? Tree trunk? Trunk of a car? Midgets in the trunk of the car? Cats stuck in the tree. Seriously. i’m so confused, stuck, blocked on this. Help! I don’t get it! I’m running out of time.
there was a fire truck headed down the street, on the corner of an ave. invested with snails, although the truck had one passanger, he couldn’t see all the snails all over the road due to lack of vision. the dog in the front seat was barking to stop but being def as well he couldn’t t hear him and they slipped and caused a fire. how ironic
There was something fishy about his trunk. The entire car reeked of riches and expense, but the trunk was… empty. Empty in the cleanest of ways – clinical, like a murder had been committed and the bloodstains had been removed. It didn’t fit the image of the twenty-year-old daddy’s boy who got everything he ever wanted. Empty. He’d shout at her sometimes and become irrationally angry, and she would think of that clean trunk. She would fear his wrath and its consequences, shuddering at the endless CSI-related possiblities and hoping her overimaginative mind was dead wrong. Until one day, she no longer did.
The letters are grey and purple. All letters are at same level except the d. The word one is grey and the word word is purple. It was at the top right of the screen and half way shown.
On a car, on an elephant, on the end of a bed with all of your keepsakes in it. Bunk, sunk, clunk, dunk. Dunk basketball, sunk in a trunk in the back of a bunk. Knurt!