They marched through the windy streets, a frightening and confusing sight to everyone now leaving their homes to see what was happening. The soldiers’ feet pounded on the concrete, sending a resounding ‘thump’ throughout the neighborhood.
I wish it was windy in here and it’d blow this word all the way to tomorrow and tomorrow’s word prompt would take its place briefly, for roughly one minute in fact. A minute can be a very long time when you are sitting waiting in front of a screen with a keyboard at your fingertips. My throat hurts, ow…
They called her Gale
She was a force of nature
she’d blow into your life
whisking your heart away
stealing the breath from your lungs
But you didn’t mind that she was windy
you never felt so alive
and you would set off trying to chase her
more, you wanted more
no matter how you tried you couldn’t find her
she only ever found you
It’s windy in the absence of your response. At moments, I think it’ll rain, but the air is hot and sticky. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me.
city, chi town. windy outside with the hurricans. I can’t hurry, so I’m good there. farting a lot. maybe side affect from all the fart p0rn>>> life is weird. I think i’m getting better though. lost some weight. gained some too. I’m hungry and i”ll eat then I’ll eat again
The wind whipped in her hair, flinging it into her eyes as she squinted up at the box. The stadium lights blared back. “Last time, same thing!” the band director hollered, but she knew in her heart that they’d be doing it another three times after this,
“Fucking wind,” she hissed, and adjusted her instrument.
It was windy outside while the people inside were scared the wind was going to blow their house down and people really didnt like the wind it wasnt that nice. The wind made everything colder, wind is nice on a hot summer day but on a cold winter day its not. Than the hose tore down and the people jumped out.
The day was cold, blustery and grey. The girl walked along the old cobbled street, the sharp edges of the cobbles cutting her bare feet. People stared as she walked, no one knew her, and they didn’t want to. The girl turned into a door way and sat down, hands over her face, wishing that she had a home and someone to love her.
It was windy outside. The trees battered against the windows and rain pelted down with soft tings. The wind was so strong trees bent. You sit curled up in your chair enjoying the rain sitting near the fireplace. Sipping your tea from its mug. This was nice. This was nice you could do this forever. You could sit here and watch the trees wave along the ground as a silent hello to the cloud covered sun.
people used to say they hated the wind. i said i loved it.
the way it pulls back your hair and touches your face
like it’s cleansing you from everything dirty and awkward
like it’s emptying you of everything you’ve been
like it’s setting you free
A soft drift along my skin calls me back to life. The heat behind my eyes slowly disappears as they flutter back open, and I lift them from the ground to look at you. “No.” I say, as my hair whips through the night. “I can’t do that. Even if it means losing you.”
The drifting wind whips you now too, and I see your fist clench, even though all that issues from your mouth is, “Okay. See you later, then.”
on windowpanes that shine like hornets
who look daringy into their own reflection
peeling its way under worn, marbling wood
and lovely white slices of candlelight
wavering and sweet
Hurricane Irma will bring very windy conditions with it. Many people have to board up their windows so their house will be protected. Winds could bring catastrophic damage. Homes could be destroyed, trees can fall over, and power lines can be downed. Irma is a very dangerous storm and everybody should precautions.
wind is a bad word in my house. my mother hates the wind because it’s too cold. it makes her eyes water. the wind reminds her her ex-boyfriend, my father, his death. it reminds her of his eyes watering from the gusts of wind, and how he never understood why she didn’t like the wind blowing the freshly-raked leaves across the yard. it reminds her of how he was blind, and he never did understand why she didn’t like the wind blowing her hair around and getting it tangled. but wind isn’t a bad word. the memories give it a bad name
it was a windy day, and a strong breeze blew across my tear-stained cheeks, leaving a stinging sensation. it could have been worse, i thought. at least it wasn’t raining.
sitting at home and watching as the winds blow in. The sound is deafening. trees sway and break as debris blows by. I am forced to step away from my vantage point. I must now take shelter from the wind. All I can do is wait and listen.
I love the wind. Feeling wind keeps me cool. It makes me feel like my day will go well. It makes me happy. It creates music with the trees. It feels fresh. Calm. Peaceful. Windy days are meant to be spent outdoors. Wind can be menacing but for me, it’s always welcoming. It never ceases to make me smile.
windy; the way I fall asleep to the sound of electric fan blades whirring, it was the afternoon nap we kids were obliged to do, lying on the air bed in our grandparents’ home
windy; the way I fell asleep with the blades moving in a blur and the formulated wind kissing the soles of my feet, I carry this with me in my dream, I fly, I soar, it all seems too good to be true but I dream that it’s real
Strange word is windy. It is used to describe the presence of wind but also to descibe when everything is messed up. It hints that nature can change our lives and it has increible power. But what our when the winds changes and shows us something new?
the wndy wind blew away wendy
wendy the hamster had a hat
that i hadn’t knitted yet
but it tore and swore
on the marvelous gaze
of the windy wind of may or way or when
and if they whistled and whoostled
if they hustled and hissled
if they caboomed and carrooned
then i’d maybe have
one more of you
sitting on one more of me
The wind always means change is coming. And it always means something good is about to happen. If you’re satisfied in life, you’ll be experiencing something new. If you aren’t happy, things will change. That’s what the wind does; it blows out the bad and brings in the new.
Do you think you could catch my pain as it moves towards you? Perhaps if you were to fondle it gently, pat it like a dog, it might transform. My pain could become a bulging red love heart or a white cloud ready to float straight back past my face. If I had to guess at it though, I do not think that you will be catching my pain. I think you plan to punch it in the face to make it swell and bleed.
This came up yesterday and I couldn’t figure a thing to write. Funny how life works out. Just 24 hours later, here I am. Exactly that thing. A messy little pile of broken pieces. Promises, hopes, dreams. Poof. Gone. The only thing left of you is the phone charger you left in my socket. So at least you’ll be back.
Grace dropped the instrument at her feet and listened for the sound of gunfire. Bullets echoed faintly, their whistles almost lost in the windy din of an October storm. Stalin was coming. Just as Daddy said he would.
It was another windy day in the famous Windy City, and all the Cubs were waiting for the “L” train to take them back to their little personal pockets of space and narrow square feet, where their belongings were tucked into corners and kept dry. Meanwhile, I sat beneath a street lamp and listened to a street musicians mutilate a classic on a beat up tenor saxophone. At least he had heart, I guess.
It was windy up here, I thought for probably the five millionth time or something. I wish I had died someplace else, somewhere less exposed. It was windy and cold and wet. That’s the part I hate the most I think. I’m dead but I can still feel and I can’t leave this place. I can’t leave Mount Everest.
She was flying so fast and far away from the ground. The wind had just scooped her up as if it had a mind of its own. She wasn’t sure about what you are supposed to do when the wind picks you up and simply carries you far away.
Windy skies remind me of your eyes
Knocking me over with glamour or strength (though I could not tell you which)
The wind in you eyes created waves with mine,
beautiful from a distance but it ends in a crash.
She stands on the edge of the cliffs, eyes closed and face turned towards the setting sun. The wind is relentless, tugging at her clothes and turning her hair into a banner of scarlet and gold.
There was once a shitty writer named Windy Lee.
He couldnt write for shit if it took all week.
He didn’t have a clue who he would turn out to be.
That shitty ass writer is me.
Windy it was in that quiet little town
The wind blew all around
Where it blew it was cold
I came to love it
How it would blow
The way it caressed
My long blonde hair
The way it would cool down
Me and everyone there
It was an extremely blustery day outside, and poor little Suzy MacGee was having a rather hard time making her way to school. He bright blonde curls danced in the wind, her determined face turned red with the sheer effort of walking up the hill.
It was a windy day today, perfect for blood lust and war. If you take a sniff, you can scent the intoxicating smell of metal and rot.
I wonder what my mother would think of me right now. Of me, standing over the corpse of my best friend and lover, only the first in the very long line of women and men to come.
They marched through the windy streets, a frightening and confusing sight to everyone now leaving their homes to see what was happening. The soldiers’ feet pounded on the concrete, sending a resounding ‘thump’ throughout the neighborhood.
The wind blew her hair in front of her face and she raised her hand to push it back. The ocean crashed, as ocean’s do, up against the rocks.
I wish it was windy in here and it’d blow this word all the way to tomorrow and tomorrow’s word prompt would take its place briefly, for roughly one minute in fact. A minute can be a very long time when you are sitting waiting in front of a screen with a keyboard at your fingertips. My throat hurts, ow…
They called her Gale
She was a force of nature
she’d blow into your life
whisking your heart away
stealing the breath from your lungs
But you didn’t mind that she was windy
you never felt so alive
and you would set off trying to chase her
more, you wanted more
no matter how you tried you couldn’t find her
she only ever found you
It’s windy in the absence of your response. At moments, I think it’ll rain, but the air is hot and sticky. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me. Respond to me.
city, chi town. windy outside with the hurricans. I can’t hurry, so I’m good there. farting a lot. maybe side affect from all the fart p0rn>>> life is weird. I think i’m getting better though. lost some weight. gained some too. I’m hungry and i”ll eat then I’ll eat again
it is almost as the sun moved and stopped but the windy shining light is almost as bright if it were not for the correct altitude.
The wind whipped in her hair, flinging it into her eyes as she squinted up at the box. The stadium lights blared back. “Last time, same thing!” the band director hollered, but she knew in her heart that they’d be doing it another three times after this,
“Fucking wind,” she hissed, and adjusted her instrument.
It was windy outside while the people inside were scared the wind was going to blow their house down and people really didnt like the wind it wasnt that nice. The wind made everything colder, wind is nice on a hot summer day but on a cold winter day its not. Than the hose tore down and the people jumped out.
windy sandy
positivite vibes
in my head
nothing noteworthy
i said
i gotta go
he said
The day was cold, blustery and grey. The girl walked along the old cobbled street, the sharp edges of the cobbles cutting her bare feet. People stared as she walked, no one knew her, and they didn’t want to. The girl turned into a door way and sat down, hands over her face, wishing that she had a home and someone to love her.
It was windy outside. The trees battered against the windows and rain pelted down with soft tings. The wind was so strong trees bent. You sit curled up in your chair enjoying the rain sitting near the fireplace. Sipping your tea from its mug. This was nice. This was nice you could do this forever. You could sit here and watch the trees wave along the ground as a silent hello to the cloud covered sun.
people used to say they hated the wind. i said i loved it.
the way it pulls back your hair and touches your face
like it’s cleansing you from everything dirty and awkward
like it’s emptying you of everything you’ve been
like it’s setting you free
A soft drift along my skin calls me back to life. The heat behind my eyes slowly disappears as they flutter back open, and I lift them from the ground to look at you. “No.” I say, as my hair whips through the night. “I can’t do that. Even if it means losing you.”
The drifting wind whips you now too, and I see your fist clench, even though all that issues from your mouth is, “Okay. See you later, then.”
on windowpanes that shine like hornets
who look daringy into their own reflection
peeling its way under worn, marbling wood
and lovely white slices of candlelight
wavering and sweet
Slated for a February 17th release date, the Nike Kyrie 2 will retail for $125.
Hurricane Irma will bring very windy conditions with it. Many people have to board up their windows so their house will be protected. Winds could bring catastrophic damage. Homes could be destroyed, trees can fall over, and power lines can be downed. Irma is a very dangerous storm and everybody should precautions.
wind is a bad word in my house. my mother hates the wind because it’s too cold. it makes her eyes water. the wind reminds her her ex-boyfriend, my father, his death. it reminds her of his eyes watering from the gusts of wind, and how he never understood why she didn’t like the wind blowing the freshly-raked leaves across the yard. it reminds her of how he was blind, and he never did understand why she didn’t like the wind blowing her hair around and getting it tangled. but wind isn’t a bad word. the memories give it a bad name
it was a windy day, and a strong breeze blew across my tear-stained cheeks, leaving a stinging sensation. it could have been worse, i thought. at least it wasn’t raining.
sitting at home and watching as the winds blow in. The sound is deafening. trees sway and break as debris blows by. I am forced to step away from my vantage point. I must now take shelter from the wind. All I can do is wait and listen.
I love the wind. Feeling wind keeps me cool. It makes me feel like my day will go well. It makes me happy. It creates music with the trees. It feels fresh. Calm. Peaceful. Windy days are meant to be spent outdoors. Wind can be menacing but for me, it’s always welcoming. It never ceases to make me smile.
windy; the way I fall asleep to the sound of electric fan blades whirring, it was the afternoon nap we kids were obliged to do, lying on the air bed in our grandparents’ home
windy; the way I fell asleep with the blades moving in a blur and the formulated wind kissing the soles of my feet, I carry this with me in my dream, I fly, I soar, it all seems too good to be true but I dream that it’s real
Strange word is windy. It is used to describe the presence of wind but also to descibe when everything is messed up. It hints that nature can change our lives and it has increible power. But what our when the winds changes and shows us something new?
The sentence is as long as the winding words will allow it be calm in the morning, but it is probably still rather windy.
In a closed space, the presence of the wind the absence of safety.
the wndy wind blew away wendy
wendy the hamster had a hat
that i hadn’t knitted yet
but it tore and swore
on the marvelous gaze
of the windy wind of may or way or when
and if they whistled and whoostled
if they hustled and hissled
if they caboomed and carrooned
then i’d maybe have
one more of you
sitting on one more of me
The wind always means change is coming. And it always means something good is about to happen. If you’re satisfied in life, you’ll be experiencing something new. If you aren’t happy, things will change. That’s what the wind does; it blows out the bad and brings in the new.
CATCH
Do you think you could catch my pain as it moves towards you? Perhaps if you were to fondle it gently, pat it like a dog, it might transform. My pain could become a bulging red love heart or a white cloud ready to float straight back past my face. If I had to guess at it though, I do not think that you will be catching my pain. I think you plan to punch it in the face to make it swell and bleed.
BROKEN
This came up yesterday and I couldn’t figure a thing to write. Funny how life works out. Just 24 hours later, here I am. Exactly that thing. A messy little pile of broken pieces. Promises, hopes, dreams. Poof. Gone. The only thing left of you is the phone charger you left in my socket. So at least you’ll be back.
Grace dropped the instrument at her feet and listened for the sound of gunfire. Bullets echoed faintly, their whistles almost lost in the windy din of an October storm. Stalin was coming. Just as Daddy said he would.
It was another windy day in the famous Windy City, and all the Cubs were waiting for the “L” train to take them back to their little personal pockets of space and narrow square feet, where their belongings were tucked into corners and kept dry. Meanwhile, I sat beneath a street lamp and listened to a street musicians mutilate a classic on a beat up tenor saxophone. At least he had heart, I guess.
It was windy up here, I thought for probably the five millionth time or something. I wish I had died someplace else, somewhere less exposed. It was windy and cold and wet. That’s the part I hate the most I think. I’m dead but I can still feel and I can’t leave this place. I can’t leave Mount Everest.
She was flying so fast and far away from the ground. The wind had just scooped her up as if it had a mind of its own. She wasn’t sure about what you are supposed to do when the wind picks you up and simply carries you far away.
Windy skies remind me of your eyes
Knocking me over with glamour or strength (though I could not tell you which)
The wind in you eyes created waves with mine,
beautiful from a distance but it ends in a crash.
She stands on the edge of the cliffs, eyes closed and face turned towards the setting sun. The wind is relentless, tugging at her clothes and turning her hair into a banner of scarlet and gold.
There was once a shitty writer named Windy Lee.
He couldnt write for shit if it took all week.
He didn’t have a clue who he would turn out to be.
That shitty ass writer is me.
Windy it was in that quiet little town
The wind blew all around
Where it blew it was cold
I came to love it
How it would blow
The way it caressed
My long blonde hair
The way it would cool down
Me and everyone there
It was an extremely blustery day outside, and poor little Suzy MacGee was having a rather hard time making her way to school. He bright blonde curls danced in the wind, her determined face turned red with the sheer effort of walking up the hill.
It was a windy day today, perfect for blood lust and war. If you take a sniff, you can scent the intoxicating smell of metal and rot.
I wonder what my mother would think of me right now. Of me, standing over the corpse of my best friend and lover, only the first in the very long line of women and men to come.