we took a hot air balloon to the edge of the world where the water fell over the falls so gracefully that we didn’t even know, didn’t even care, didn’t even question why we were dying. Only taking into consideration that in this balloon we could go anywhere and we chose to go to the one place that you couldn’t return from.
What goes in quickly comes out slowly, what soars high forgets how to fly and floats down. Her energy, ballooned by the adrenaline of a missed meeting in the morning, sagged and drooped, becoming a hovering bag of wrinkled regrets and exhausted air.
It floated by, but no one seemed to notice. It was what was on the ground that had managed to grab all of their attention. Meanwhile, the one lone balloon floated off into space, lost and forgotten to all those who would have delighted in watching, save one. The small child who was trying to find something to distract them from the body of their friend.
I remember loving balloons. Stupid really, just sacs of air. Now my son loves them. I remember one time in Walt Disney world I popped one of his balloons because we were packing the car and getting out of our hotel. It took him a while to forgive me.
Big colorful air filled plastic. Beautiful and fun. I just picture a little girl walking- with a balloon attached to her arm… that’s what I used to do. I think balloons are beautiful.
My childhood and my dreams all rolled into one
With the vivacious red of the passion now lost
It floats to the sky to escape, to continue what I could not
High aloft clouds and above freshly planted fruit trees. A bright red balloon, carrying a present. I hurriedly dig through pockets, through weeks on discarded mail, in search of the trusted golden slingshot. Pulling back in hand, I release, shooting down the once graceful balloon, and it falls into the dirt. I quickly steal my prize.
balloons are used in parties mainly. i havent blown one up in a long time. the other thing i know is that clowns use them to make animals.. balloon animals of course. they are made out of a rubbery plastic type of material and i tend to get a headache if i blow them up for too long. a teacher i had was scared of balloons for some reason. HAH i refreshed to i get to write more! SO. what to write about balloons. they come in all shapes and sizes – you get the long ones and the round ones. red, blue, yellow, green, purple, grey, white, pink, orange. i like balloons :)
The air was warm as the hot air balloon floated, suspended in space. The vibrant colors gleamed even brighter as we drifted out of the clouds and in to the sun’s rays. Looking down the world seemed so far away. We were in our own little oasis.
Balloons are full of someones breath. on birthdays you’re like oh, here you go…a sack of my dirty wet breath which when you think about it isn’t actually that nice. I like balloons..especially helium balloons..They make your voice nice and squeaky which makes me laugh. I love them a lot, do you?
It flew high, higher than it ever had flown before. The world began to crystallize against its smooth surface – it sparkled as it glistened against the sun, a beacon of prisms pointing north, on a journey to the unknown. It began to stretch as it peaked against the atmosphere.
A small red balloon skipped merrily along as it made it’s way further into the sky. I watched it’s journey to my balcony with halfhearted interest, idly wondering where it had come from, if there was a worried parent on the streets below, an angry vendor or a now-crying child.
I suppose it mattered little in the grand scheme of things, that red balloon. Still, the rest of my day would have been very different if I hadn’t risen to my feet and leaned slightly over the guardrail to grasp it’s same-colored string.
The dogs ran wild up the hill ahead of me, nothing seen but their tails dancing atop the grains waving in the breeze. I pushed myself hard to try and keep up. The mountain side flowed from the flat meadow we left, up the grassy hill, finally ballooning into the vast overhang of rock and grass under the mountain top above.
this is a green balloon. its floating evenly in the sky, slowly gaining altitude. Maybe there’s a secret love letter inside, waiting to be released once the balloon has popped. Who knows. No one will ever know.
The expansion of particles within a ontaines space the sphrwk sphwrk of rubber the explosion ifound a balloon at the park wrapped around a jungle gym bridge
Bartholomew looked up at the red balloon as it floated away along the breeze. He had simply attached a message to the string. Who would find it? Who would read his plea for help? It was his only chance to be saved from this dese
He threw back his head and watched as the balloon went up and up, its purple and gold-laced bag swelling, its basket swinging below. It was a thing of beauty, and he was about to shout his joy when a tousled blonde head peered over the edge of the basket and a pair of frightened eyes met his.
The balloon floated higher and higher, taking the small family over the sprawling landscapes of their native land. They watched as the view grew as they went higher. None of them had ever experienced such vivid green grasses or stunningly blue seas anywhere before. None of them could imagine their relatives living among such beauty when the stories they heard were filled with strife, war and death.
Everything is black and white and a million shades of grey. In the centre of a field that should be green, a little girl holds a red balloon. I don’t know how we know it is red, but it is certainly not green or orange. I think greys might not be so secretive.
I was a balloon. I was flying high above everyone. However, my head was filled with helium. My rising was only an illusion of my own self-arrogance. I still felt like flying high like a balloon being let go floating into empty skies. It was just me and the skies now.
Up up and away in my beautiful balloon. These are the words of a song that I would like to turn into a reality . I would love to be up up and away in your beautiful balloon with you. Nothing would give me greater satisfaction.
balloons are wonderful things. They make children happy, they float in the air. Forever and ever. They never stop unless popped. But that’s their only downfall that makes them stop. Something else stops them. Something pops them and they fall. Sort of like Human’s if you think about it. But it’s quite interesting!
“What a pretty balloon,” a mother said to her baby in a stroller. The baby smiled a toothless grin at his mother, looking at her with unconditional love in his eyes.
I thinks of balloons flying up in the air with the clouds. Remember the movie up? All of the colorful balloons? Or you put something in a balloon, something you want to say but can’t, and fly it away. That worry, gone.
I held the red balloon in my hand, letting the string slide around in my palm, but not letting go completely. The smile was plastered on my face. All these grown ups. They assume I’m happy because I have a balloon and am smiling. Boy are they wrong.
the require some sort of gas to fill them and the come in many colors and can be blown to almost any size. there are a wide variety to the types of balloons you can get some come with logo’s or will have say something to commemorate the occasion.
A balloon can be popped. It can go high as the sky, higher than birds even dare to travel. Balloons can be red, blue, white. They’re the color of freedom, yet they’re more free than we Americans are. Balloons are gallantly beautiful. The sore to places we could only dream of.
something i am terrified of. like for real. not a joke. the sound i guess it what really scares me more than anything. i never liked those games at bday parties where they made you sit on top of the balloon until it popped. thought that game was stupid + pointless.
Grantaire glared at the mylar balloon shouting the words World’s Best Grandpa at him.
“We couldn’t find a Happy Birthday one,” Courfeyrac shrugged, unable to completely pull down his smirk.
“Bullshit,” Grantaire sighed, snatching the balloon from his friend’s grasp. “I’d say it’s the thought that counts, but I’m not sure that the thought behind this really does.”
I hadn’t been up so high for years. I was too afraid of heights. Or more importantly, of the doom they promised would result from any misstep. But I trusted him, or more importantly I had lived enough to take a few risks.
when I first went up in a balloon I thought ‘how will I ever get down again?’. I had recently seen enduring love and remembered the man who had let go of the rope and fallen into a filed with his lower body squished into his torso. the image has stayed with me forever and from that day to this I have had a fear of hot air balloons.
I let go of my red balloon and watched in drift into the sky. It was magnificent. So much freedom with one miniscule act. It now gets to live the rest of its live soaring over the world; seeing some of the most fantastic sites ever. I envy my red balloon.
some suns burst undone unfun the one
word that last the lasting word
to smoke to laugh to sigh
almost hear you try to worst
the balloon floating choking
on the words we spoke
too late to create to mate
we took a hot air balloon to the edge of the world where the water fell over the falls so gracefully that we didn’t even know, didn’t even care, didn’t even question why we were dying. Only taking into consideration that in this balloon we could go anywhere and we chose to go to the one place that you couldn’t return from.
What goes in quickly comes out slowly, what soars high forgets how to fly and floats down. Her energy, ballooned by the adrenaline of a missed meeting in the morning, sagged and drooped, becoming a hovering bag of wrinkled regrets and exhausted air.
It floated by, but no one seemed to notice. It was what was on the ground that had managed to grab all of their attention. Meanwhile, the one lone balloon floated off into space, lost and forgotten to all those who would have delighted in watching, save one. The small child who was trying to find something to distract them from the body of their friend.
I remember loving balloons. Stupid really, just sacs of air. Now my son loves them. I remember one time in Walt Disney world I popped one of his balloons because we were packing the car and getting out of our hotel. It took him a while to forgive me.
Big colorful air filled plastic. Beautiful and fun. I just picture a little girl walking- with a balloon attached to her arm… that’s what I used to do. I think balloons are beautiful.
My childhood and my dreams all rolled into one
With the vivacious red of the passion now lost
It floats to the sky to escape, to continue what I could not
High aloft clouds and above freshly planted fruit trees. A bright red balloon, carrying a present. I hurriedly dig through pockets, through weeks on discarded mail, in search of the trusted golden slingshot. Pulling back in hand, I release, shooting down the once graceful balloon, and it falls into the dirt. I quickly steal my prize.
balloons are used in parties mainly. i havent blown one up in a long time. the other thing i know is that clowns use them to make animals.. balloon animals of course. they are made out of a rubbery plastic type of material and i tend to get a headache if i blow them up for too long. a teacher i had was scared of balloons for some reason. HAH i refreshed to i get to write more! SO. what to write about balloons. they come in all shapes and sizes – you get the long ones and the round ones. red, blue, yellow, green, purple, grey, white, pink, orange. i like balloons :)
The air was warm as the hot air balloon floated, suspended in space. The vibrant colors gleamed even brighter as we drifted out of the clouds and in to the sun’s rays. Looking down the world seemed so far away. We were in our own little oasis.
Balloons are full of someones breath. on birthdays you’re like oh, here you go…a sack of my dirty wet breath which when you think about it isn’t actually that nice. I like balloons..especially helium balloons..They make your voice nice and squeaky which makes me laugh. I love them a lot, do you?
It flew high, higher than it ever had flown before. The world began to crystallize against its smooth surface – it sparkled as it glistened against the sun, a beacon of prisms pointing north, on a journey to the unknown. It began to stretch as it peaked against the atmosphere.
ilike4baloo7nssi7nemy7nephewcametolifehelovesthemtoit
ballons they float. so high above the sky. you may think this is a wonder. just think. its just a ballon. millions just floating.
A small red balloon skipped merrily along as it made it’s way further into the sky. I watched it’s journey to my balcony with halfhearted interest, idly wondering where it had come from, if there was a worried parent on the streets below, an angry vendor or a now-crying child.
I suppose it mattered little in the grand scheme of things, that red balloon. Still, the rest of my day would have been very different if I hadn’t risen to my feet and leaned slightly over the guardrail to grasp it’s same-colored string.
The dogs ran wild up the hill ahead of me, nothing seen but their tails dancing atop the grains waving in the breeze. I pushed myself hard to try and keep up. The mountain side flowed from the flat meadow we left, up the grassy hill, finally ballooning into the vast overhang of rock and grass under the mountain top above.
red, with fairies laughter tied to a uplifting sense of silliness. Freedom of expression in a traveling globe.
this is a green balloon. its floating evenly in the sky, slowly gaining altitude. Maybe there’s a secret love letter inside, waiting to be released once the balloon has popped. Who knows. No one will ever know.
The expansion of particles within a ontaines space the sphrwk sphwrk of rubber the explosion ifound a balloon at the park wrapped around a jungle gym bridge
Bartholomew looked up at the red balloon as it floated away along the breeze. He had simply attached a message to the string. Who would find it? Who would read his plea for help? It was his only chance to be saved from this dese
He threw back his head and watched as the balloon went up and up, its purple and gold-laced bag swelling, its basket swinging below. It was a thing of beauty, and he was about to shout his joy when a tousled blonde head peered over the edge of the basket and a pair of frightened eyes met his.
The balloon floated higher and higher, taking the small family over the sprawling landscapes of their native land. They watched as the view grew as they went higher. None of them had ever experienced such vivid green grasses or stunningly blue seas anywhere before. None of them could imagine their relatives living among such beauty when the stories they heard were filled with strife, war and death.
Everything is black and white and a million shades of grey. In the centre of a field that should be green, a little girl holds a red balloon. I don’t know how we know it is red, but it is certainly not green or orange. I think greys might not be so secretive.
I love balloons. They’re like rainbows on a cloudy day. They beckon and dance and make their area a fanciful place.
I once popped a ballon. It was so sad and yet it made such a terrific sound, that I wanted to do it again and again. Death wishes of the idle!
I was a balloon. I was flying high above everyone. However, my head was filled with helium. My rising was only an illusion of my own self-arrogance. I still felt like flying high like a balloon being let go floating into empty skies. It was just me and the skies now.
Up up and away in my beautiful balloon. These are the words of a song that I would like to turn into a reality . I would love to be up up and away in your beautiful balloon with you. Nothing would give me greater satisfaction.
balloons are wonderful things. They make children happy, they float in the air. Forever and ever. They never stop unless popped. But that’s their only downfall that makes them stop. Something else stops them. Something pops them and they fall. Sort of like Human’s if you think about it. But it’s quite interesting!
“What a pretty balloon,” a mother said to her baby in a stroller. The baby smiled a toothless grin at his mother, looking at her with unconditional love in his eyes.
I thinks of balloons flying up in the air with the clouds. Remember the movie up? All of the colorful balloons? Or you put something in a balloon, something you want to say but can’t, and fly it away. That worry, gone.
I held the red balloon in my hand, letting the string slide around in my palm, but not letting go completely. The smile was plastered on my face. All these grown ups. They assume I’m happy because I have a balloon and am smiling. Boy are they wrong.
the require some sort of gas to fill them and the come in many colors and can be blown to almost any size. there are a wide variety to the types of balloons you can get some come with logo’s or will have say something to commemorate the occasion.
A balloon can be popped. It can go high as the sky, higher than birds even dare to travel. Balloons can be red, blue, white. They’re the color of freedom, yet they’re more free than we Americans are. Balloons are gallantly beautiful. The sore to places we could only dream of.
something i am terrified of. like for real. not a joke. the sound i guess it what really scares me more than anything. i never liked those games at bday parties where they made you sit on top of the balloon until it popped. thought that game was stupid + pointless.
Grantaire glared at the mylar balloon shouting the words World’s Best Grandpa at him.
“We couldn’t find a Happy Birthday one,” Courfeyrac shrugged, unable to completely pull down his smirk.
“Bullshit,” Grantaire sighed, snatching the balloon from his friend’s grasp. “I’d say it’s the thought that counts, but I’m not sure that the thought behind this really does.”
I grabbed onto a balloon.
It lifted me up high into the air.
The balloon popped and I fell to my death.
Do i blame my curiosity or the balloon?
I hadn’t been up so high for years. I was too afraid of heights. Or more importantly, of the doom they promised would result from any misstep. But I trusted him, or more importantly I had lived enough to take a few risks.
when I first went up in a balloon I thought ‘how will I ever get down again?’. I had recently seen enduring love and remembered the man who had let go of the rope and fallen into a filed with his lower body squished into his torso. the image has stayed with me forever and from that day to this I have had a fear of hot air balloons.
She lost it, but it was received by another small human who needed the symbol of childhood more than the brat who lost it.
I let go of my red balloon and watched in drift into the sky. It was magnificent. So much freedom with one miniscule act. It now gets to live the rest of its live soaring over the world; seeing some of the most fantastic sites ever. I envy my red balloon.
some suns burst undone unfun the one
word that last the lasting word
to smoke to laugh to sigh
almost hear you try to worst
the balloon floating choking
on the words we spoke
too late to create to mate