flashes back to last summer
3 am
showering to a spider
in the corner
my so called life
we used to sneak into swimming pools
the neighborhood gawked at us
wistful came and went
but you just left
I was full of wistful yearning for another time and place. A time before innocence was stolen and first love filled my heart and soul with pure delight each and everyday. Could it be that life was so simple then or has time rewritten every line?
Wistful, nothing but joy and perfection. The girl felt wistful as she walked through the fields with her boyfriend, who she wasn’t even supposed to be with. But she shook her head, the feeling of bliss wouldn’t stop. She needed him, she craved him, she loved him. Wistful, was the only word to describe her feelings.
I was fast to go to the store. The milk was out. I needed cereal; my cocoa puff fix. I was nervous, what if I didn’t get to the store before it closed? Will I forever be without cereal? 12 hours at least.
Jerry stared wistfully at the sea that lay before him. He couldn’t quite remember what it was, but something was nagging at him, at the very back of his mind. Something he couldn’t quite recall, but it was there anyway. Mocking him. He checked his watch: they shouldve been here by now
Staring out the window was known to be stereotypically wistful, so Otto Mann tried not to do it. His sister, Sofia, listened to her MP3 player that pounded out Taylor Swift so loudly that the twang lingered in her brother’s poor ears. In the front of the SUV, Otto’s father hummed a jingle from the latest commercial of his favorite fast food restaurant – Harvey’s Ham Haven – and his mother reapplied lipstick.
his eyes looked wistful as he played the music written before him. the notes were composed on manuscript paper hundreds of years ago, but when he played the music himself, he felt nostalgic for a time that he couldn’t remember for sure if it had happened or not.
Sounds like soft air or gentle touch. It makes me think of cooking or writing on paper. I think about the air outside. its calm word to me. im not even sure the exact definition of it for its not in my typical vocabulary, but i like it and I like what it sounds like to me.
He is all wistful brown eyes as he watches her leave. But in a moment he is composed. If I hadn’t known him well enough, I think I might have missed it altogether.
beautiful. The sky had a wistful feeling of hopes and dreams. It was this weightless, floating sense of being in the world rather than of it. Apart of it, it’s soul, it’s purpose, life.
The willow branch sways
Side to side in the harsh winds of winter
A small girl’s hand drips bright crimson on the soft white snow
Her mother calls he name but she does not hear
She is deaf, and blind
And there I sat staring out the window into the gray day.
“Oh, come now, don’t look so wistful. You’ve got nothing to be wanting for.”
Nana was chastising me as she always did when I looked as if I was daydreaming. Dreaming was practically a sin in her household.
I understand that sometimes feel totally upset. Being wistful isn’t fun at all. When I hear wistful, I think of that sad little girl in the book I read called Heidi. She had tears in her eyes and the picture looked so raw to me. It was utterly heartbreaking. Wistfulness catches on quick. It is contagious. Sadness
There was a wind blowing like I’ve never heard before, I couldn’t understand why the sound was so loud and high, almost as if it was speaking. Then I started to look around, at the leaves, the branches, curtains, hair of passerby’s, and I could see no movement. What was it trying to tell me?
I stared out of my car window. I saw the rolling hills and valleys of the countryside and immediately thought of my hometown. A beautiful village where you could see the mountains and beautiful views. I stopped breathing for a second and just stared out of the window. Wistfully.
Days like this you try to spend it out there, in the sun as much as you can because in the back of your mind, you don’t know how long this will last. One day you’re out there getting tanned and the next, you’re locked up inside with snow out there, making you wistful for the days of summer.
I didn’t know where I was or who I was with, I only saw the fat man and the damn slits in the walls letting the light in. Those little sabres of brightness on that fat bastard’s face sickened me. It was bad enough I was tied up and naked, but to be next to this lardass was the worst.
She stood near the water’s edge. It flowed so peaceful, unlike the ramblings of her mind. Drip, drop. Tears from her eyes. “Why are you crying” asked the little girl be her side. “Because,” my dearest said, “I’m am going to die with this dreadful feeling in my heart.” And with a wistful look, she grabbed her rock and jumped into the water.
Tears. A tear. A single tear dropped from the corner of her eye. Why? She was remembering something. Sweet? Sorrowful? Was she full of anger and rage? It dropped, another tear. But wait, one more? Two. Three. Why are you crying my love? Speak to me so that I can wipe away this terrible feeling of remorse and nostalgia. Free yourself from your thought, my dearest. Be free.
The feeling of longing and wanting something or someone. Everyone experiences this feeling at one point. Some long for an object, some long for the past. Some long for someone, a lover, or family member, anyone. It’s not a good feeling, but not bad either. It’s healthy to long for things or people. It shows you care. About them, or anything.
I am looking at my cat wondering how many times this seemingly amazing website is going to continue to give me this word and begin to become wistful with decision on signing up. Now I will receive numerous emails and wistful and never care. Awesome.
i keep getting this word. and i dont know what it means. it makes me feel stupid, yet I am not. who the fuck is full of wist anyways? obviously not this one right here. although my first entry was badass but now i dont remember what it said, nor do i care. i just want an new word darn it!
She gazed wistfully out the window, leaning her shoulder against the sill as she sighed and twirled a strand of hair around a well manicured finger. She snuck a glance over her shoulder, but the cute barista was still chatting cheerfully with another customer. She pouted, making sure that her lips were sufficiently glistening thanks to so hastily applied lip balm and let out another heavy sigh. The barista was cleaning the counter. Drat.
He looks out the window, sighing as the coffee warms his hands. The snow falls heavily, and he knows that he regrets the mistakes he has made. However, the rhythm of the snow somehow makes it easier.
He looks out the window, sighing as the coffee warms his hands. The snow falls heavily, and he knows that he regrets the mistakes he has made. However, the rhythm of the snow somehow makes it easier.
She sees the children playing carefree on the playground, and she thinks wistfully of her own childhood and wishes that she could go back. Then, she looks at the pile of papers for her thesis, and she has no desire to go through all that schooling again. And then she thinks wistfully of the day when her studies are over for good.
what is wistful, what does it mean. I do not know. Can you help me, what do I write, that I’m having a wistful of fun or am I wistfully strolling down a lane – I think the wistful thoughts of the days when I was but a young, country girl walk though the ancient gums on our family farm is more correct.
What can I do? What does all this mean? I allow my mind to drift, back to a time when everything was OK, when I still had hopes and dreams, but all this wistfulness makes me feel sleepy. . .
I already wrote about this but it messed up so here i go writing blah blahsdf hsadoifasdbgsoihsabdbasodifhasdifnjcbiuohpojfowjgbosgiiejdhidnf kids don’t know how to skip songs on youtube lol just writin’ and what not I wonder if anyone could even write to the botom of this if they wanted to i dn
That manufactured feeling when I remember the memories that aren’t mine wholly but are colored by the movies and too-romantic novels and film flashbacks and home videos of a girl who was the cause where I am the effect and it’s not real because it remembers something that wasn’t me except in every part of my sum
I am a wispy wisp wistfully wandering by means of the wind. I am willing to wait as much so as i am willing to go. Birds of a feather flock together, so they say..i dance upon their wings anyway, I am golden like the years, a warm sun ray…
flashes back to last summer
3 am
showering to a spider
in the corner
my so called life
we used to sneak into swimming pools
the neighborhood gawked at us
wistful came and went
but you just left
Memories. Happy and sad. Make me wistful.
I was full of wistful yearning for another time and place. A time before innocence was stolen and first love filled my heart and soul with pure delight each and everyday. Could it be that life was so simple then or has time rewritten every line?
Wistful, nothing but joy and perfection. The girl felt wistful as she walked through the fields with her boyfriend, who she wasn’t even supposed to be with. But she shook her head, the feeling of bliss wouldn’t stop. She needed him, she craved him, she loved him. Wistful, was the only word to describe her feelings.
I was fast to go to the store. The milk was out. I needed cereal; my cocoa puff fix. I was nervous, what if I didn’t get to the store before it closed? Will I forever be without cereal? 12 hours at least.
Jerry stared wistfully at the sea that lay before him. He couldn’t quite remember what it was, but something was nagging at him, at the very back of his mind. Something he couldn’t quite recall, but it was there anyway. Mocking him. He checked his watch: they shouldve been here by now
Staring out the window was known to be stereotypically wistful, so Otto Mann tried not to do it. His sister, Sofia, listened to her MP3 player that pounded out Taylor Swift so loudly that the twang lingered in her brother’s poor ears. In the front of the SUV, Otto’s father hummed a jingle from the latest commercial of his favorite fast food restaurant – Harvey’s Ham Haven – and his mother reapplied lipstick.
a
his eyes looked wistful as he played the music written before him. the notes were composed on manuscript paper hundreds of years ago, but when he played the music himself, he felt nostalgic for a time that he couldn’t remember for sure if it had happened or not.
Sounds like soft air or gentle touch. It makes me think of cooking or writing on paper. I think about the air outside. its calm word to me. im not even sure the exact definition of it for its not in my typical vocabulary, but i like it and I like what it sounds like to me.
He is all wistful brown eyes as he watches her leave. But in a moment he is composed. If I hadn’t known him well enough, I think I might have missed it altogether.
beautiful. The sky had a wistful feeling of hopes and dreams. It was this weightless, floating sense of being in the world rather than of it. Apart of it, it’s soul, it’s purpose, life.
Witfulness
The willow branch sways
Side to side in the harsh winds of winter
A small girl’s hand drips bright crimson on the soft white snow
Her mother calls he name but she does not hear
She is deaf, and blind
And there I sat staring out the window into the gray day.
“Oh, come now, don’t look so wistful. You’ve got nothing to be wanting for.”
Nana was chastising me as she always did when I looked as if I was daydreaming. Dreaming was practically a sin in her household.
I understand that sometimes feel totally upset. Being wistful isn’t fun at all. When I hear wistful, I think of that sad little girl in the book I read called Heidi. She had tears in her eyes and the picture looked so raw to me. It was utterly heartbreaking. Wistfulness catches on quick. It is contagious. Sadness
The Branches where very wistful through the wind, they swaid and swirled, practically dancing.
she lay
wistful and twisted
full of sickly bitter nostalgia
like the sheets tangled around her
a vestige reminiscent of lovers past and passed.
heart ache felt
where kept sick people ?
There was a wind blowing like I’ve never heard before, I couldn’t understand why the sound was so loud and high, almost as if it was speaking. Then I started to look around, at the leaves, the branches, curtains, hair of passerby’s, and I could see no movement. What was it trying to tell me?
I stared out of my car window. I saw the rolling hills and valleys of the countryside and immediately thought of my hometown. A beautiful village where you could see the mountains and beautiful views. I stopped breathing for a second and just stared out of the window. Wistfully.
Days like this you try to spend it out there, in the sun as much as you can because in the back of your mind, you don’t know how long this will last. One day you’re out there getting tanned and the next, you’re locked up inside with snow out there, making you wistful for the days of summer.
I didn’t know where I was or who I was with, I only saw the fat man and the damn slits in the walls letting the light in. Those little sabres of brightness on that fat bastard’s face sickened me. It was bad enough I was tied up and naked, but to be next to this lardass was the worst.
She stood near the water’s edge. It flowed so peaceful, unlike the ramblings of her mind. Drip, drop. Tears from her eyes. “Why are you crying” asked the little girl be her side. “Because,” my dearest said, “I’m am going to die with this dreadful feeling in my heart.” And with a wistful look, she grabbed her rock and jumped into the water.
Tears. A tear. A single tear dropped from the corner of her eye. Why? She was remembering something. Sweet? Sorrowful? Was she full of anger and rage? It dropped, another tear. But wait, one more? Two. Three. Why are you crying my love? Speak to me so that I can wipe away this terrible feeling of remorse and nostalgia. Free yourself from your thought, my dearest. Be free.
The feeling of longing and wanting something or someone. Everyone experiences this feeling at one point. Some long for an object, some long for the past. Some long for someone, a lover, or family member, anyone. It’s not a good feeling, but not bad either. It’s healthy to long for things or people. It shows you care. About them, or anything.
I am looking at my cat wondering how many times this seemingly amazing website is going to continue to give me this word and begin to become wistful with decision on signing up. Now I will receive numerous emails and wistful and never care. Awesome.
i keep getting this word. and i dont know what it means. it makes me feel stupid, yet I am not. who the fuck is full of wist anyways? obviously not this one right here. although my first entry was badass but now i dont remember what it said, nor do i care. i just want an new word darn it!
k
She gazed wistfully out the window, leaning her shoulder against the sill as she sighed and twirled a strand of hair around a well manicured finger. She snuck a glance over her shoulder, but the cute barista was still chatting cheerfully with another customer. She pouted, making sure that her lips were sufficiently glistening thanks to so hastily applied lip balm and let out another heavy sigh. The barista was cleaning the counter. Drat.
He looks out the window, sighing as the coffee warms his hands. The snow falls heavily, and he knows that he regrets the mistakes he has made. However, the rhythm of the snow somehow makes it easier.
He looks out the window, sighing as the coffee warms his hands. The snow falls heavily, and he knows that he regrets the mistakes he has made. However, the rhythm of the snow somehow makes it easier.
She sees the children playing carefree on the playground, and she thinks wistfully of her own childhood and wishes that she could go back. Then, she looks at the pile of papers for her thesis, and she has no desire to go through all that schooling again. And then she thinks wistfully of the day when her studies are over for good.
I thought back on all the things my brother and I used to do.
wistful is a word mixing the words wrist and ful, but it has no relation to the two. Why is this? Markus thought as he read the word.
I had a strong wistful feeling that I shouldn’t have told my ex~girlfriend that I liked to wear Under Amour leggings.
what is wistful, what does it mean. I do not know. Can you help me, what do I write, that I’m having a wistful of fun or am I wistfully strolling down a lane – I think the wistful thoughts of the days when I was but a young, country girl walk though the ancient gums on our family farm is more correct.
What can I do? What does all this mean? I allow my mind to drift, back to a time when everything was OK, when I still had hopes and dreams, but all this wistfulness makes me feel sleepy. . .
I already wrote about this but it messed up so here i go writing blah blahsdf hsadoifasdbgsoihsabdbasodifhasdifnjcbiuohpojfowjgbosgiiejdhidnf kids don’t know how to skip songs on youtube lol just writin’ and what not I wonder if anyone could even write to the botom of this if they wanted to i dn
That manufactured feeling when I remember the memories that aren’t mine wholly but are colored by the movies and too-romantic novels and film flashbacks and home videos of a girl who was the cause where I am the effect and it’s not real because it remembers something that wasn’t me except in every part of my sum
I am a wispy wisp wistfully wandering by means of the wind. I am willing to wait as much so as i am willing to go. Birds of a feather flock together, so they say..i dance upon their wings anyway, I am golden like the years, a warm sun ray…