I’m wondering what true love actually means. Or more like, can it even exist in this day of our society. How much is one willing to do in order to keep the one they love? How much is one willing to give up for the one they love? That’s what I wonder. I wonder all the time about that. Is it all worth it in the end? That’s what keeps me wondering.
Wondering where the Puppeteer had gone, the man collapsed into a small pile of fabric and faux skin as the strings fell from the smoke in the sky. He would lie here forever now, his warped dreams left unfulfilled.
I couldn’t help wondering if she knew what was about to happen. She couldn’t see but she could hear and she must be hearing it. The whirring of the fan blades got closer to her naked flesh. Her perspiration skittered across her belly like field mice from a hawk.
Augustus is often wondering about oblivion and if his life or death will really matter. He thinks about it so much that Hazel will actually get upset about it. His constant wondering about the meaning of his life makes him a very unique character since most people do not think as deeply as he does about the world.
In the jungle heat, under a canopy of trees and singing chorus of noises surrounding him, he sat wondering if what he was doing was going to mean something. Whether the revolution he would probably die for would honor him for his actions. Or did that matter? Was he truly loved? would he be remembered at all. He didn’t know any of the answers. All he knew was that imperialism made no distinction with their predatory money hungry practices that killed his people. His love for his people, his family, and his country motivated him to fight, not the hate for a sick people.
The thought, that thought again. Somehow it had slipped into my mind again. No… I told myself, I just couldn’t do it. But somewhere deep down inside told me I had too. I opened the door and walked inside…
Just wondering what happen to the lost Malaysian aircraft, MH370 that disappeared from the skies almost five weeks ago. How could an aircraft not only varnish without a trace, but that, with all the electronic equipment that is around, no country has so far been able to locate the plane, and offer an explanation to the parents of all those that have lost their lives on that day, what went wrong.
oh, no she never cared to wonder about love. wonder in itself was plenty love for her, for what could replace the gentle wind at her back, up in the sky on a mountain, overlooking the vast sea? no, love wasn’t necessary. only wonder. that was all she needed.
he wondered what it was like to be in love. he never knew the dizzying nervousness in the pit of his stomach, or the flutter of lashes against a cheek— not even the frantic beatbeatbeating of a heart. but this would change, wouldn’t it?
he always wondered what it was like to be in love. that hazy feeling in the pit of your stomach, the flutter of eyelashes and the constant beatbeatbeating of your heart— these were things he never knew. never wanted to know. until now.
Wondering? I’m always wondering. Wondering if I’ll have a good day, wondering if I’m going to be ok when I go somewhere I am uncertain of, wondering how the family is. I’m always wondering.
She always wondered. And he wondered what she wondered about. What was it, he pondered, that she spent her time thinking about? When she could be doing other things, she drifted off into perhaps an entirely separate world. It must have been more interesting, like how a cat sleeps more than it is awake. She seemed to spend almost seventy five percent of her time just wondering… about what, he desired to know.
when will all of it end, that’s what i ponder about every so ften when i stare at the nightsky from my south facing window. having the moon shine on my face at night and the sun wake me in the morning once it managres to climb that tree addled mountain opposite my house with goats yelling and the cock screeching at five pm for whatevre reaso- our little lives, suspended on a dust mote in the sky
One word is enough for all of us. But today I’m going to see just how many words I can really type in one minute. I’ve been wondering that for awhile. I think it depends on the time of day and the subject matter or even if I’m typing from my head or following a script. There’s a reason for the season. Pass the salt. Praise the lard. It’s time to go. That minute passed by quicker than usual.
Sometimes, he wonders about what life could be. Sometimes, he wonders about his past. Sometimes, he wonders what he could be. But it’s just that wondering. Never doing. Never trying.
And so he cries. Because his life is wasted on wondering and never trying.
wondering reminds me of alice in wonderland because obviously of the word. it is honestly such a strange and beautiful word, wondering. like what even is wondering. its your mind wandering so they called it wondering.
I lay awake, wondering. wondering where i will be in five years. wondering where you will be in five years. wondering desperately, if the universe treats us fairly, if we will be together. wondering who you are with right now. wondering why i care. wondering if i’m strong enough to do this on my own. wondering why i wouldn’t be. wondering why my mom was such a bad mother. wondering if you can fill the hole she left, or if i’ll forever be wandering.
I’m sitting here wondering where I went wrong. Everything was on the right track until I hit a block, and now…now I don’t know where to go next. Around? Over? Through? Backwards? The path isn’t clear. I think I may I need some help on this one.
I have been wondering about you all the time: Where are you? Do you think about me? Could it have worked out? Will I ever see you again? Did I make the right decision?
Delilah wasn’t like the other ladies Kasra had known. Where they whispered and gossiped (oft without a thought to kindness or courtesy), she spoke with careful consideration for the feelings of those around her. Where they wasted their time in drawing rooms, she spent her days with scholars and poets, wondering on the state of the world.
Beyond the looking glass, the lens, the viewfinder, the microscope, I see a number of things vying for attention.
For consideration.
All facades are crumbling.
This is how it feels to fall asleep. This is how it feels to wake up. This is how it feels to walk into place like you’ve been there before. Still, have I actually been there? That’s what I’m wondering.
I’ve been wondering a lot lately. It’s all I’ve been doing. Wondering. About everything and anything. The world is so vast and complex all I have been able to do is wonder about it and wonder about the 7 million people that inhabit this earth.
i’m wondering how i should start this. should i make it happy? sad? wondering is a happy word. wandering is her sad counterpart. i think. i dont know where im going with this. i wonder if i should keep going when i only have so few seconds left
wondering how to write something that has meaning, but isn’t overly sentimental, doesn’t exploit anyone, isn’t pretentious. this is kind of pretentious… I’ve got nothing right now. I don’t know what to write.
There is a breeze in the trees, and a calm squirrel that scurries across the ground. I am in a lake of green and yellow and brown as summer approaches and the sun rises. I am wondering where all this serenity came from and why it wasn’t here when I needed it.
Oh the wondering! Will it be Alexia or Chris, that finally ifnishes a book first? Will the pain and suffering of not doing it, ge the better of the both of them or will one sucumb to the wondering of what it might be like to actually finish a project and actually go out and get it done? Ahh, the wondering!
Wondering. Wondering if I’ll ever be in love. Wondering if I’ll ever marry. Wondering if I’ll ever have children. Will I live my dreams? Will I see them to the end? Or will I end up unfulfilled? Old and full of regrets, because instead of doing, I just… wondered. It’s good to wonder, but now I need to DO.
nI sit here and wonder what I’m really doing here, why am I doing this in the middle of the night and why am I not writing my story. Well it is as simple as that I have no interest in my story atm and I just wonder what I should write about if there is another storyline I could make or if I should stick to this
but there is so little time too do so that I cannot fathom writing anything else
Okay I have no idea what just happend but this just restarted so I shall wonder again
why am I wondering what I am doing why am I not wondering about the word wondering. it is such a peculiar word. Wonder ing
what Wonder is there in this action that wondering is and how is it that adding ing to a normal word changes it into something else.
He rests his hand on the small of her back. “Hey, you alright?”
Miranda feigned a smile. “Yes, perfectly fine. I’m just wondering if we made the right decision—”
Robin shook his head, cutting her off. “We talked about this already. It’s for the best, okay? Don’t worry.” He pressed his lips to her temple and gave her side a squeeze.
Leaning into his touch, she pursed her lips and quickly blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. How much longer would she have to endure this before it all came crashing down?
I’m wondering about the state of this world. Is begining to rot from the inside, youi see the nucleus becoming a disgusting smelly pulp of dying flesh.
“I was wondering if you were aware there is a cat in your suitcase?” – not the most common thing to say to someone you have only just met, but the circumstances were just so. Quite unsurprisingly, she then proceeded to pay more attention to the feline invading her luggage than to the messenger who had made her aware of the situation. After several moments, I silently, slowly, backed away, – another opportunity lost.
I was wondering what there might be hiding in the woods, just out of sight. The sounds I heard were more corporeal that simple wind blowing through the leaves and ferns could possibly produce. Out of the corner of my eye, shadows flitted past. And there was that sense, unmistakeable, of being watch, of being followed, of a presence.
I’m wondering what true love actually means. Or more like, can it even exist in this day of our society. How much is one willing to do in order to keep the one they love? How much is one willing to give up for the one they love? That’s what I wonder. I wonder all the time about that. Is it all worth it in the end? That’s what keeps me wondering.
the leaves have fallen
creped
withdrawn to the fringes
you sit naked today
eating an apple
your hair just so, asking
‘when will it rain?’
I kiss the apple of your lip
let my clothes fall
take your hand
‘now, my love
we are pouring’
My wondering eyes followed your wandering hands
Across my skin like it was silk
Like I was the strongest fragile thing
You’d ever seen
Wondering where the Puppeteer had gone, the man collapsed into a small pile of fabric and faux skin as the strings fell from the smoke in the sky. He would lie here forever now, his warped dreams left unfulfilled.
I couldn’t help wondering if she knew what was about to happen. She couldn’t see but she could hear and she must be hearing it. The whirring of the fan blades got closer to her naked flesh. Her perspiration skittered across her belly like field mice from a hawk.
Augustus is often wondering about oblivion and if his life or death will really matter. He thinks about it so much that Hazel will actually get upset about it. His constant wondering about the meaning of his life makes him a very unique character since most people do not think as deeply as he does about the world.
In the jungle heat, under a canopy of trees and singing chorus of noises surrounding him, he sat wondering if what he was doing was going to mean something. Whether the revolution he would probably die for would honor him for his actions. Or did that matter? Was he truly loved? would he be remembered at all. He didn’t know any of the answers. All he knew was that imperialism made no distinction with their predatory money hungry practices that killed his people. His love for his people, his family, and his country motivated him to fight, not the hate for a sick people.
The thought, that thought again. Somehow it had slipped into my mind again. No… I told myself, I just couldn’t do it. But somewhere deep down inside told me I had too. I opened the door and walked inside…
i don’t know something and i will wondering about it
this words like i ask about thing
Just wondering what happen to the lost Malaysian aircraft, MH370 that disappeared from the skies almost five weeks ago. How could an aircraft not only varnish without a trace, but that, with all the electronic equipment that is around, no country has so far been able to locate the plane, and offer an explanation to the parents of all those that have lost their lives on that day, what went wrong.
oh, no she never cared to wonder about love. wonder in itself was plenty love for her, for what could replace the gentle wind at her back, up in the sky on a mountain, overlooking the vast sea? no, love wasn’t necessary. only wonder. that was all she needed.
he wondered what it was like to be in love. he never knew the dizzying nervousness in the pit of his stomach, or the flutter of lashes against a cheek— not even the frantic beatbeatbeating of a heart. but this would change, wouldn’t it?
he always wondered what it was like to be in love. that hazy feeling in the pit of your stomach, the flutter of eyelashes and the constant beatbeatbeating of your heart— these were things he never knew. never wanted to know. until now.
Wondering? I’m always wondering. Wondering if I’ll have a good day, wondering if I’m going to be ok when I go somewhere I am uncertain of, wondering how the family is. I’m always wondering.
She always wondered. And he wondered what she wondered about. What was it, he pondered, that she spent her time thinking about? When she could be doing other things, she drifted off into perhaps an entirely separate world. It must have been more interesting, like how a cat sleeps more than it is awake. She seemed to spend almost seventy five percent of her time just wondering… about what, he desired to know.
when will all of it end, that’s what i ponder about every so ften when i stare at the nightsky from my south facing window. having the moon shine on my face at night and the sun wake me in the morning once it managres to climb that tree addled mountain opposite my house with goats yelling and the cock screeching at five pm for whatevre reaso- our little lives, suspended on a dust mote in the sky
I wandered as I wondered.
One word is enough for all of us. But today I’m going to see just how many words I can really type in one minute. I’ve been wondering that for awhile. I think it depends on the time of day and the subject matter or even if I’m typing from my head or following a script. There’s a reason for the season. Pass the salt. Praise the lard. It’s time to go. That minute passed by quicker than usual.
Sometimes, he wonders about what life could be. Sometimes, he wonders about his past. Sometimes, he wonders what he could be. But it’s just that wondering. Never doing. Never trying.
And so he cries. Because his life is wasted on wondering and never trying.
wondering reminds me of alice in wonderland because obviously of the word. it is honestly such a strange and beautiful word, wondering. like what even is wondering. its your mind wandering so they called it wondering.
I lay awake, wondering. wondering where i will be in five years. wondering where you will be in five years. wondering desperately, if the universe treats us fairly, if we will be together. wondering who you are with right now. wondering why i care. wondering if i’m strong enough to do this on my own. wondering why i wouldn’t be. wondering why my mom was such a bad mother. wondering if you can fill the hole she left, or if i’ll forever be wandering.
I wonder at times that I have enough time to enjoy life at it’s full splendor. I wonder if I may be looking at my life the wrong way.
I’m sitting here wondering where I went wrong. Everything was on the right track until I hit a block, and now…now I don’t know where to go next. Around? Over? Through? Backwards? The path isn’t clear. I think I may I need some help on this one.
I have been wondering about you all the time: Where are you? Do you think about me? Could it have worked out? Will I ever see you again? Did I make the right decision?
Delilah wasn’t like the other ladies Kasra had known. Where they whispered and gossiped (oft without a thought to kindness or courtesy), she spoke with careful consideration for the feelings of those around her. Where they wasted their time in drawing rooms, she spent her days with scholars and poets, wondering on the state of the world.
your mind bloomed,
like a space-bound nebula,
all over my lips in a silent
“I love you.”
(&) God, you were beautiful.
Beyond the looking glass, the lens, the viewfinder, the microscope, I see a number of things vying for attention.
For consideration.
All facades are crumbling.
This is how it feels to fall asleep. This is how it feels to wake up. This is how it feels to walk into place like you’ve been there before. Still, have I actually been there? That’s what I’m wondering.
I’ve been wondering a lot lately. It’s all I’ve been doing. Wondering. About everything and anything. The world is so vast and complex all I have been able to do is wonder about it and wonder about the 7 million people that inhabit this earth.
i’m wondering how i should start this. should i make it happy? sad? wondering is a happy word. wandering is her sad counterpart. i think. i dont know where im going with this. i wonder if i should keep going when i only have so few seconds left
wondering how to write something that has meaning, but isn’t overly sentimental, doesn’t exploit anyone, isn’t pretentious. this is kind of pretentious… I’ve got nothing right now. I don’t know what to write.
There is a breeze in the trees, and a calm squirrel that scurries across the ground. I am in a lake of green and yellow and brown as summer approaches and the sun rises. I am wondering where all this serenity came from and why it wasn’t here when I needed it.
Oh the wondering! Will it be Alexia or Chris, that finally ifnishes a book first? Will the pain and suffering of not doing it, ge the better of the both of them or will one sucumb to the wondering of what it might be like to actually finish a project and actually go out and get it done? Ahh, the wondering!
Wondering. Wondering if I’ll ever be in love. Wondering if I’ll ever marry. Wondering if I’ll ever have children. Will I live my dreams? Will I see them to the end? Or will I end up unfulfilled? Old and full of regrets, because instead of doing, I just… wondered. It’s good to wonder, but now I need to DO.
nI sit here and wonder what I’m really doing here, why am I doing this in the middle of the night and why am I not writing my story. Well it is as simple as that I have no interest in my story atm and I just wonder what I should write about if there is another storyline I could make or if I should stick to this
but there is so little time too do so that I cannot fathom writing anything else
Okay I have no idea what just happend but this just restarted so I shall wonder again
why am I wondering what I am doing why am I not wondering about the word wondering. it is such a peculiar word. Wonder ing
what Wonder is there in this action that wondering is and how is it that adding ing to a normal word changes it into something else.
He rests his hand on the small of her back. “Hey, you alright?”
Miranda feigned a smile. “Yes, perfectly fine. I’m just wondering if we made the right decision—”
Robin shook his head, cutting her off. “We talked about this already. It’s for the best, okay? Don’t worry.” He pressed his lips to her temple and gave her side a squeeze.
Leaning into his touch, she pursed her lips and quickly blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. How much longer would she have to endure this before it all came crashing down?
wondering if you still feel the same about me as you did months ago we you said those things to me, do you still feel the same? i hope
I’m wondering about the state of this world. Is begining to rot from the inside, youi see the nucleus becoming a disgusting smelly pulp of dying flesh.
“I was wondering if you were aware there is a cat in your suitcase?” – not the most common thing to say to someone you have only just met, but the circumstances were just so. Quite unsurprisingly, she then proceeded to pay more attention to the feline invading her luggage than to the messenger who had made her aware of the situation. After several moments, I silently, slowly, backed away, – another opportunity lost.
I was wondering what there might be hiding in the woods, just out of sight. The sounds I heard were more corporeal that simple wind blowing through the leaves and ferns could possibly produce. Out of the corner of my eye, shadows flitted past. And there was that sense, unmistakeable, of being watch, of being followed, of a presence.
Why? I’m wondering,
After years, these things still suck…
The web search engines.
I’m also prone to
Wondering why (out o time…
You’ll just need to guess.)
-Haiku-Man man, man, man