I think of balloons floating in the air like a little girl has lost it after leaving Harris teeter or a birthday party. immediately i think of sadness and loneliness but the there is happiness,
I sometimes imagine myself floating away like a red balloon in the sky. Flying free in the air going where ever the wind takes me, stopping at nothing. Then suddenly I feel my face getting hot… POP!!!
So bouncy! It prances in the air like a freshly born squirrel. It hurls through the gaseous area that we breath to give us visible pleasure. Oh, latex! How I love you so.
The little girl held the red balloon in her right hand. It stretched up to the sky trying to break free, but she held fast. The wind blew strongly trying to help it along.
I think of curious George Immediately. How he floated away when he was carrying that big huge cluster of balloons. I think of childhood, which I’m happy to still be going through.
They carry away my thoughts and feelings, each color glistening in the moonlight. I close my eyes and smile at all the good times and bad times. I close my eyes and smile and think of you…I watch as they all float away..goodbye.
Balloons. Kids love them. What’s so special about them. They make you happy for a while, but they die easily. No matter how much you protect them, they are destined to end. To explode. To stop existing.
i handed the kid below me the yellow ball of air he had asked me for. I watched as his little face lit up with happiness and ran back to his mother. That was why i enjoyed this simple and low paying job, the happiness i saw.
at night i want to be with a red and whispery, airy lightly weighty balloon. With the night, blank as day shining in a glass tube of pearly soapy-bubbly ballooney water. Aquaphorious pores lightening, breathing–totally DEFLATING.
Balloon
like bookkeeper
has repeating syllables
And I have neither bubbles nor balloons
and no fellow consonent or vowel in my life
to transform my simple sounds
into a hum.
Up. I really liked this movie. Especially the first couple minutes. It made me cry when they told the whole story of the old guy and how he grew up and ended up marrying the girl of his dreams and it was really sad when she died. But he carried out their plan nevertheless. :)
colorful pop goes flying fast, but wont last. wale blow hole clogger. why did you leave me? was it unkind of my to prick you with my pin? how was i to know you would disapeer in a colorful flash.
baloons are fun they make me think of being a child when the most inportant thing was a baloon how it could be anytihng i wanted it to be, a spaceship or or a planet a person what ever dreams seem so much more simpler then not like when you grow up and a baloon is just a baloon and a dream is just a dream
The balloon drifted lazily up into the clouds, blissfully unaware of the child whose hands stretched up toward it as tears leaked down his chubby face.
ballons are roound you fill them with air or water, or possibly helium, they are fun when you smash them at people. you cant eat balloons.. they wouldnt be digestible. lol i like them they are oil based.
Ah, balloons… Such a symbol of happiness, with their bubbly appearance, their uncontrollable urge to rise upwards into the sky, whether it is a jubilant summer blue or an overcast winter grey. I wish that somehow, I could absorb their joy.
romance who loves to nod and sing, with drowsy head and folded wing, among the green leaves as they shake, far down within some shadowy lake, to me a painted paraquet hath been a most familiar bird, taught me my alphabet to say, to lisp my very earliest word, while in the wild wood i did lie, a child with a most knowing eye.
i love balloons, they are very pretty, i love all the colors of the rainbow they can come in. when i was little i was pretty much obsessed with balloons. they pop and scare people it funny when it happens and people jump.
So, the balloon is full of air, and it is on a string, blowing in the wind. It is red, bright red, a child holds the other end of the string, the child has chocolate ice cream on her face.
fly high away into the sky. filled with helium that i like to ingale and suck out of your rubber mouth. You sexy balloon. You float so whimsically and so gently up into the clouds. From whence you came. Beautiful, red balloon. Is it my birthday??
Up high, rising, quickly. I let go. Why did I let go? The rigid string fell from my hand. The wind took it up so high. I can’t reach it. But I don’t try. Why don’t I try?
A blue sky filled with all colored balloons at a carnival in a small town, somewhere in northern Michigan. A kid stares contently at them wondering where they’ll end up.
the child screamed at her mother, yelling for a purple balloon. The clown that carried them rolled his eyes. Just another child who had to have her way. He was tired of the smell of latex, tired of smiling, tired of making sure all the balloons didn’t fly away. Wondering why he got into this job, he plastered on a grin and gave the girl a purple balloon.
The balloon filled the child with wonder. Mom pushed the shopping cart away too quickly and the baloon quickly began to shrink away, smaller and smaller, leaving the child to wonder: What was that?
your made of latex. your full of air. your heads in the clouds. you have 99 friends. you have no safety. Your turning. with little notes in your tumm.y wish wish wish on my balloon. I love to fly. I dream. colors. You dream colors.
We wrote a prelude to our own fairytale.
And bought a parachute at a church rummage sale
And with a mean sewing machine and miles of thread
We sewed the day above L.A. in navy and red.
We wound a racetrack
through your mom’s kitchen chairs,
And fought the shadows back
down your dark basement stairs
I lit a match, then let it catch
to light up the room
And then you yelled as we beheld
an old maroon hot air balloon.
I’ll be out of my mind
And you’ll be out of ideas pretty soon
So let’s spend the afternoon
in a cold hot air balloon.
Leave your jacket behind,
Lean out to touch the tree tops over town.
I can’t wait to kiss the ground wherever we touch back down.
I think of balloons floating in the air like a little girl has lost it after leaving Harris teeter or a birthday party. immediately i think of sadness and loneliness but the there is happiness,
A balloon.
I sometimes imagine myself floating away like a red balloon in the sky. Flying free in the air going where ever the wind takes me, stopping at nothing. Then suddenly I feel my face getting hot… POP!!!
So bouncy! It prances in the air like a freshly born squirrel. It hurls through the gaseous area that we breath to give us visible pleasure. Oh, latex! How I love you so.
How is a balloon amusing? It’s simply a sheath of latex filled with air, or sometimes helium.
The little girl held the red balloon in her right hand. It stretched up to the sky trying to break free, but she held fast. The wind blew strongly trying to help it along.
I think of curious George Immediately. How he floated away when he was carrying that big huge cluster of balloons. I think of childhood, which I’m happy to still be going through.
flies high and full of gas, lingers and rocks in the wind highihghigh sofly tumbles through clouds and paints a colorful spot on the blue
once when i was little i got one and my little sister cried till she got one too and we were in the backyard and mine blew away. i stole hers
They carry away my thoughts and feelings, each color glistening in the moonlight. I close my eyes and smile at all the good times and bad times. I close my eyes and smile and think of you…I watch as they all float away..goodbye.
Balloons. Kids love them. What’s so special about them. They make you happy for a while, but they die easily. No matter how much you protect them, they are destined to end. To explode. To stop existing.
i handed the kid below me the yellow ball of air he had asked me for. I watched as his little face lit up with happiness and ran back to his mother. That was why i enjoyed this simple and low paying job, the happiness i saw.
at night i want to be with a red and whispery, airy lightly weighty balloon. With the night, blank as day shining in a glass tube of pearly soapy-bubbly ballooney water. Aquaphorious pores lightening, breathing–totally DEFLATING.
Balloon
like bookkeeper
has repeating syllables
And I have neither bubbles nor balloons
and no fellow consonent or vowel in my life
to transform my simple sounds
into a hum.
hmmmmmmmmmm
Up. I really liked this movie. Especially the first couple minutes. It made me cry when they told the whole story of the old guy and how he grew up and ended up marrying the girl of his dreams and it was really sad when she died. But he carried out their plan nevertheless. :)
colorful pop goes flying fast, but wont last. wale blow hole clogger. why did you leave me? was it unkind of my to prick you with my pin? how was i to know you would disapeer in a colorful flash.
baloons are fun they make me think of being a child when the most inportant thing was a baloon how it could be anytihng i wanted it to be, a spaceship or or a planet a person what ever dreams seem so much more simpler then not like when you grow up and a baloon is just a baloon and a dream is just a dream
The balloon drifted lazily up into the clouds, blissfully unaware of the child whose hands stretched up toward it as tears leaked down his chubby face.
in a giant red balloon i will travel back home to your arms. across the oceans and across the sea i will make the journey to be with thee.
ballons are roound you fill them with air or water, or possibly helium, they are fun when you smash them at people. you cant eat balloons.. they wouldnt be digestible. lol i like them they are oil based.
Ah, balloons… Such a symbol of happiness, with their bubbly appearance, their uncontrollable urge to rise upwards into the sky, whether it is a jubilant summer blue or an overcast winter grey. I wish that somehow, I could absorb their joy.
romance who loves to nod and sing, with drowsy head and folded wing, among the green leaves as they shake, far down within some shadowy lake, to me a painted paraquet hath been a most familiar bird, taught me my alphabet to say, to lisp my very earliest word, while in the wild wood i did lie, a child with a most knowing eye.
i love balloons, they are very pretty, i love all the colors of the rainbow they can come in. when i was little i was pretty much obsessed with balloons. they pop and scare people it funny when it happens and people jump.
There was only one thing left to do, she supposed.
It wasn’t like she was going to keep it, waiting until the last of the air left it with a tired sigh, leaving it wilted on the floor. How depressing.
She wasn’t going to give it away, either. If she couldn’t have it, no one else would.
So she let it go, and it flew into the sky, oblivious.
It was lifting the wooden tables off the ground and through the blue sky. It had great big teeth and orange eyes. It was a giant monster balloon.
balloons are not only filled with helium or oxygen; they contain the most wonderful of ideas, and the joy of few.
So, the balloon is full of air, and it is on a string, blowing in the wind. It is red, bright red, a child holds the other end of the string, the child has chocolate ice cream on her face.
fly high away into the sky. filled with helium that i like to ingale and suck out of your rubber mouth. You sexy balloon. You float so whimsically and so gently up into the clouds. From whence you came. Beautiful, red balloon. Is it my birthday??
I had a red balloon when I was a kid. The balloon gave me so much joy I thought I could float up to heaven with it in my hand. Love. Joy. Flying.
Up high, rising, quickly. I let go. Why did I let go? The rigid string fell from my hand. The wind took it up so high. I can’t reach it. But I don’t try. Why don’t I try?
A blue sky filled with all colored balloons at a carnival in a small town, somewhere in northern Michigan. A kid stares contently at them wondering where they’ll end up.
the child screamed at her mother, yelling for a purple balloon. The clown that carried them rolled his eyes. Just another child who had to have her way. He was tired of the smell of latex, tired of smiling, tired of making sure all the balloons didn’t fly away. Wondering why he got into this job, he plastered on a grin and gave the girl a purple balloon.
Fairness lifts only to be drifted back by heaviness
I stretched it over my mouth, the shard of shriveled fabric that was left after everyone else went home.
The balloon filled the child with wonder. Mom pushed the shopping cart away too quickly and the baloon quickly began to shrink away, smaller and smaller, leaving the child to wonder: What was that?
The balloon rose up in the air lazily, as if it had all day to get to wherever it was going.
“Is it going to heaven Mommy?” I heard a child ask, his voice high pitched and sweet.
The day I am too old to mourn the loss of a balloon, either to the sky or to a pin prick, will be the day I am no longer human.
your made of latex. your full of air. your heads in the clouds. you have 99 friends. you have no safety. Your turning. with little notes in your tumm.y wish wish wish on my balloon. I love to fly. I dream. colors. You dream colors.
I’m about to burst. Like a balloon that’s being stretched to it’s limits. Brace yourselves so it doesn’t startle you.
We wrote a prelude to our own fairytale.
And bought a parachute at a church rummage sale
And with a mean sewing machine and miles of thread
We sewed the day above L.A. in navy and red.
We wound a racetrack
through your mom’s kitchen chairs,
And fought the shadows back
down your dark basement stairs
I lit a match, then let it catch
to light up the room
And then you yelled as we beheld
an old maroon hot air balloon.
I’ll be out of my mind
And you’ll be out of ideas pretty soon
So let’s spend the afternoon
in a cold hot air balloon.
Leave your jacket behind,
Lean out to touch the tree tops over town.
I can’t wait to kiss the ground wherever we touch back down.