There was something between them that she just couldn’t match. They were constantly in sync; finished each other’s sentences, knew all the inside jokes. She was an outsider, her nose against the glass and wishing she could be part of their warmth. Instead, she felt like she was out in the cold, on the other side of the fence, and she’d only ever catch a glimpse of what it meant to belong.
The back and forth of social engagement. A casual dance around the shadows and layers of our souls. I smile with you, you smile with me.. we all smile together. Isn’t life funny?
Mindless banter. My friends and I would constantly just go on and on about a random subject for ages. Once we talked for an hour. Today, however, we were talking about magic. A black hooded figure came up from behind me and asked if I believed in it. I said yes. He grabbed my hand, and all of a sudden I couldn’t see.
there was a lot of banter about that girl across the way. people said she looked like a hippo and smelled of a skunk. but would you still say these things if you knew that she actually believed them?
Banter… very interesting word… 2 vowels… 4 consonants…I’m not really sure of the definition… well it’s 5 letters…. so let it be…. it’s just a word….. nothing to complain about it…. nothing to dislike it…. it’s just like any other word
But do you know what’s not just any word?
I know that the word is banter but first I would like to talk about something else. Oneword.com says to just think and write and I have 60 seconds. So if you have read other entrys that I have written, I only use about 60 seconds. That’s why there are many spelling mistakes and random ideas… I’m trying to type as fast as I can because there are only 60 seconds.
THE END to the story, banter
waiting for the chanter
to summon the vamper
but his endless banter
has turned him a ranter
sacrcastic laughter
from the werewolf commander
and
the enchanter
looks a damper
as appears an inverted panther
a mule with a rag covering his eyes
muses beneath a willow tree.
The joyous segment of the mind
hovers up and grabs a cloud, pulls it down.
The cloud wraps around ligaments and tendons,
then,
it rains on our face.
There, which, angelic witch,
swoops us up to pave forest veins and trees open,
to a cove, exerting an amending force,
of screeched sunlight.
I chose my very own elixir ingredients from
a creek, stemming from that sunny cove.
myself, drinking, bantering.
She could never really play the game of banter. He was looking at her, that flirtatious uplift of an eyebrow egging her on.
She looked at her fingers and resisted the urge to bite down hard on a hangnail.
They drove along the road, sometimes silent sometimes engaged in easy banter. They had known each other for years, and maybe didn’t even have to speak but they knew what the other thought or felt about things. They reached the picnic spot and looked out over the fields and the hills in the distance.
Banter was her weapon of choice. He didn’t understand what battle he had just gotten himself into. She tossed her hair, “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak whatever primitive language you used just then. Perhaps you could try again?”
Maliciously, the boy lashed out like a jack leaping out of a box. Beady eyes aired the playground like an eagle hunting his prey, ‘STOP!’ the lady bellowed.
‘Sorry Miss, it was only banter!’
Adult banter, meaningless, as bland as the milky dregs of coffee in their cups, the crusts of toast on the plates, the smelly brown egg shells cold now & shattered into pieces. The girl heard everything from her small height, and that is the level her attention was at. The world of adult concerns passed overhead, barely droning, like planes so high only the cold streak of their vapour showed they passed at all. The girl saw the yellow grass, the bulging indignant bellies and hammy arms, the faces of other children as lost and carefully set to neutral as her own. It took her half an hour to eat her egg. Outside, the neighbor’s horse would eat dandelions from her hand and that would be her memory of this Sunday. The sermon at church was already old dust.
Cold rain fell upon us as the fight took place. A guidance manager spotted the situation within thirty seconds. I then over heard Sam trying to explain the inconvenience, his excuse was absurd. Just having banter!
We banter, several minutes, How are you? I asked you first. You said nothing at all. What makes you say that? Bantering over. Down to the meat of it: raw, bloody, sticky, red, a bit of a foul smell but still edible. You were unfaithful. I still love you. So what? Stop bantering.
Banter is something weird which people can sometimes get offended by. I don’t particularly like participating in it. However, banter comes along with daily life and gets rid of all other sad and horrible things happening in life. It is a distraction of some sort. These days, banter is extremely common in everyday life.
“Dejémonos de cháchara, empecemos”. Lanzó a su compañero ese empuje mientras daba un golpe a la puerta del coche que siguió en marcha. Dos hombres bajaron de él, sendas máscaras: ¿sabrían los del banco lo que les esperaba?
The party was a success: everyone enjoyed the witty banter and participants even got into good-natured competition. Can you top this? Afterward, most partygoers remembered having had the best time they ever had at a party.
I talk to her but she doesn’t listen. To me it isn’t empty banter, we’re not just discussing our feelings and thoughts – our souls are connecting. To talk idly is to listen. Because when you listen you also communicate.
I found it under an umbrella, and beneath a downpour. I found it in a tunnel of lights, and in my car on the long trek home from the ocean. I’ve even found it across the sea, in all of my homes, and with my friends and family. I’ve had it over dinner, I’ve had it over beer, I’ve had it through long bouts of singing with friends near. I suppose I’ve had it on Twitter and Facebook, and while drinking some beer. I can find it in the morning, the afternoons, the evening – and yes, even those odd & early hours that make up the space between the days we live. I’ve had it on walks, and I’ve had it on bridges – and today I just can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am to have it at all – every moment important, no matter how small.
Meaning in every moment, and in every word. No matter where, or when, or why, I am simply elated the banter is there…and I’d never do anything to give that up.
Great. First thing I think about is vulgarity and the second thing is Donald Trump. The “locker room banter” they kept calling it. The man is running for president of the darn country, have some self-respect. Banter can also be less vicious.
You and I.
In my mind, we banter and laugh louder than anything I’ve ever heard. Always smiles, always love. But with love comes death. I was scared of it, but I know what it means now. [THIS IS LOVE: TO LAY DOWN YOUR LIFE FOR YOUR FRIEND.]
Sometimes it’s surrender.
Sometimes it’s holding on when it hurts.
“Aww, just look at them! So cute–bantering back and forth. It’s almost like they’re–”
“Friends,” Helena cut in, her voice as sharp as her narrowed eyes. “Don’t even try, Donovan.”
“Try? Me? Whatever did you think I was going to say?”
“Something stupid–that might get you killed or worse–assigned to my squadron. I have better things to worry about than your sorry scruff-for-brains.”
“Ah. I’m wounded!” Donovon staggered backwards, his theatrical declaration punctuated by the expected hand over his heart and comical expression.
Helena rolled her eyes. “I’m warning you…” she mumbled. “Grennar–keep him out of trouble, alright?”
Her 2IC looked from the smart-mouthed Donovan and then back at her. “I’d rather be discharged, Captain.”
Helena groaned. She smacked her forehead with one gloved hand, then crooked a finger towards the still languishing Donovon. “Oi–shut up and come here.” She reached out, snagging him by the sleeve the moment he was within reach.
“H-heyyyy,” Donovan winked. “You don’t have to get rough. If you like it that way-”
“If you like your head, sitting on top of your shoulders, you will take care to remember that Yuna and Carman are half-fae and therefore, soulbonded in the eyes of their people, a detail that our society is too stupid to notice. He’s within his rights if he wishes to gut you for so much as breathing in her direction and she’s liable to scrape the flesh from your skull, if you annoy him. They’re fae. We don’t mess with them.”
Banter is often used to describe more raucous or familiar conversation between friends or colleagues, things of that nature. An example of banter would be injokes or casual, friendly insults that both parties know aren’t meant to be taken seriously.
I didn’t mind the way the two drunk men exchanged words until the beer started flying from their steins onto each other’s shirts. There was nothing wrong with some light debate or friendly banter; Hell, patrons at my bar had said much worse. But now that the two brats in adult clothing were ready to choke one another with their own neckties, I had had enough.
“All right, children!” I barked, slamming one large palm down on the counter. “Either you clean up or you get a time-out!”
How the relationship starts. Clever talk. Him impressing her, her impressing him. Then it gets a little deeper; who starts that ascendancy, or I think as some men might think, the slow descent into hell. I heard an interesting thing on a TV program. The woman says, “They asked a man what he was afraid of when it came to women. He said, ‘I’m afraid they’ll laugh at me.’ Then they asked a woman what would make her afraid of men, “I’m afraid they’ll kill me.'” That was one of the most telling lines in any show I’ve ever seen. The damned truth, sorry to say. And it isn’t just an American truth or a this country truth or a that religion truth. It’s the truth between genders all over the world. Men have the power; they make jokes all the time about who it is that really wears the pants in the family. But the truth is, they wear the pants and the armor; they have the firepower and the strength to break women in two. And if they don’t get what they want, well the passive ones find other women. And the aggressive ones force you to give it to them. Either way, the women lose. Agree or disagree? Care to banter a bit about that?
There are scales leaning toward tipping. The Libra’s scale of what is just and right. The scale in my hands, of importance and sacrifice. A chromatic scale, full of warm colors, where is the slider at today? A joke and jest, at who’s expense? At no one’s expense, at time’s expense. A bill only He can pay. Working toward nothing never felt so good. A smile turned nudge, a laugh turned shove. A scale shaking left to right, another growing hotter. It’s been too long since my eyes were wet with happiness.
Someday I will fill the Red Sea.
There was something between them that she just couldn’t match. They were constantly in sync; finished each other’s sentences, knew all the inside jokes. She was an outsider, her nose against the glass and wishing she could be part of their warmth. Instead, she felt like she was out in the cold, on the other side of the fence, and she’d only ever catch a glimpse of what it meant to belong.
The back and forth of social engagement. A casual dance around the shadows and layers of our souls. I smile with you, you smile with me.. we all smile together. Isn’t life funny?
‘that was a good natured banter’
Mindless banter. My friends and I would constantly just go on and on about a random subject for ages. Once we talked for an hour. Today, however, we were talking about magic. A black hooded figure came up from behind me and asked if I believed in it. I said yes. He grabbed my hand, and all of a sudden I couldn’t see.
there was a lot of banter about that girl across the way. people said she looked like a hippo and smelled of a skunk. but would you still say these things if you knew that she actually believed them?
Banter… very interesting word… 2 vowels… 4 consonants…I’m not really sure of the definition… well it’s 5 letters…. so let it be…. it’s just a word….. nothing to complain about it…. nothing to dislike it…. it’s just like any other word
But do you know what’s not just any word?
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
:)
banter is supposed to be the small talk of smart people but if they call I banter then they are the dumb ones
I know that the word is banter but first I would like to talk about something else. Oneword.com says to just think and write and I have 60 seconds. So if you have read other entrys that I have written, I only use about 60 seconds. That’s why there are many spelling mistakes and random ideas… I’m trying to type as fast as I can because there are only 60 seconds.
THE END to the story, banter
Again, I heard it…
more political banter
Washington’s “Candor”
mindless opinions
further mis-educate us
from rich and famous
waiting for the chanter
to summon the vamper
but his endless banter
has turned him a ranter
sacrcastic laughter
from the werewolf commander
and
the enchanter
looks a damper
as appears an inverted panther
a mule with a rag covering his eyes
muses beneath a willow tree.
The joyous segment of the mind
hovers up and grabs a cloud, pulls it down.
The cloud wraps around ligaments and tendons,
then,
it rains on our face.
There, which, angelic witch,
swoops us up to pave forest veins and trees open,
to a cove, exerting an amending force,
of screeched sunlight.
I chose my very own elixir ingredients from
a creek, stemming from that sunny cove.
myself, drinking, bantering.
She could never really play the game of banter. He was looking at her, that flirtatious uplift of an eyebrow egging her on.
She looked at her fingers and resisted the urge to bite down hard on a hangnail.
I threw a football at my brother as my mum shouted “what’s going on ” just a little banter” I replied”
As I was walking a crowd came running past me and almost ran over my sister. We went to see what was going on but it was to crowded.
intellectual interaction with another person. Witty dialogue between two people. “We bantered back and forth until we exhausted ourselves.”
I had to banter for the cookies in our playground black market. I offred them my cheese sandwitches. They turned my away. I walked away dejected.
They drove along the road, sometimes silent sometimes engaged in easy banter. They had known each other for years, and maybe didn’t even have to speak but they knew what the other thought or felt about things. They reached the picnic spot and looked out over the fields and the hills in the distance.
Banter was her weapon of choice. He didn’t understand what battle he had just gotten himself into. She tossed her hair, “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak whatever primitive language you used just then. Perhaps you could try again?”
Banter
Something which is a regular occurance in my life.
Often an excuse for an insult.
Oh well, that’s the 21st century I’m afraid.
Something to distract us from the horribleness around us.
What has come of the world?…
Maliciously, the boy lashed out like a jack leaping out of a box. Beady eyes aired the playground like an eagle hunting his prey, ‘STOP!’ the lady bellowed.
‘Sorry Miss, it was only banter!’
Laugh games jokes silly children friends smiles fun birthday
Adult banter, meaningless, as bland as the milky dregs of coffee in their cups, the crusts of toast on the plates, the smelly brown egg shells cold now & shattered into pieces. The girl heard everything from her small height, and that is the level her attention was at. The world of adult concerns passed overhead, barely droning, like planes so high only the cold streak of their vapour showed they passed at all. The girl saw the yellow grass, the bulging indignant bellies and hammy arms, the faces of other children as lost and carefully set to neutral as her own. It took her half an hour to eat her egg. Outside, the neighbor’s horse would eat dandelions from her hand and that would be her memory of this Sunday. The sermon at church was already old dust.
Cold rain fell upon us as the fight took place. A guidance manager spotted the situation within thirty seconds. I then over heard Sam trying to explain the inconvenience, his excuse was absurd. Just having banter!
We banter, several minutes, How are you? I asked you first. You said nothing at all. What makes you say that? Bantering over. Down to the meat of it: raw, bloody, sticky, red, a bit of a foul smell but still edible. You were unfaithful. I still love you. So what? Stop bantering.
Banter is something weird which people can sometimes get offended by. I don’t particularly like participating in it. However, banter comes along with daily life and gets rid of all other sad and horrible things happening in life. It is a distraction of some sort. These days, banter is extremely common in everyday life.
“Dejémonos de cháchara, empecemos”. Lanzó a su compañero ese empuje mientras daba un golpe a la puerta del coche que siguió en marcha. Dos hombres bajaron de él, sendas máscaras: ¿sabrían los del banco lo que les esperaba?
The party was a success: everyone enjoyed the witty banter and participants even got into good-natured competition. Can you top this? Afterward, most partygoers remembered having had the best time they ever had at a party.
I talk to her but she doesn’t listen. To me it isn’t empty banter, we’re not just discussing our feelings and thoughts – our souls are connecting. To talk idly is to listen. Because when you listen you also communicate.
I found it under an umbrella, and beneath a downpour. I found it in a tunnel of lights, and in my car on the long trek home from the ocean. I’ve even found it across the sea, in all of my homes, and with my friends and family. I’ve had it over dinner, I’ve had it over beer, I’ve had it through long bouts of singing with friends near. I suppose I’ve had it on Twitter and Facebook, and while drinking some beer. I can find it in the morning, the afternoons, the evening – and yes, even those odd & early hours that make up the space between the days we live. I’ve had it on walks, and I’ve had it on bridges – and today I just can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am to have it at all – every moment important, no matter how small.
Meaning in every moment, and in every word. No matter where, or when, or why, I am simply elated the banter is there…and I’d never do anything to give that up.
I swear.
Teasing tongues
Wicked wordplay
Beguiling banter throughout the day
As night comes the words cease
longing lips continue the playful tete a tete
Great. First thing I think about is vulgarity and the second thing is Donald Trump. The “locker room banter” they kept calling it. The man is running for president of the darn country, have some self-respect. Banter can also be less vicious.
i hadn’t hit it off with someone since the 5th grade
why is it, i wonder, that i always get along better with people i can flirt with
I have no idea what this word means, I have never heard it before
top banter aye mate
We had that kind of chemistry.
We could could banter off one another.
We could go back and forth.
We fed off each other
You and I.
In my mind, we banter and laugh louder than anything I’ve ever heard. Always smiles, always love. But with love comes death. I was scared of it, but I know what it means now. [THIS IS LOVE: TO LAY DOWN YOUR LIFE FOR YOUR FRIEND.]
Sometimes it’s surrender.
Sometimes it’s holding on when it hurts.
“Aww, just look at them! So cute–bantering back and forth. It’s almost like they’re–”
“Friends,” Helena cut in, her voice as sharp as her narrowed eyes. “Don’t even try, Donovan.”
“Try? Me? Whatever did you think I was going to say?”
“Something stupid–that might get you killed or worse–assigned to my squadron. I have better things to worry about than your sorry scruff-for-brains.”
“Ah. I’m wounded!” Donovon staggered backwards, his theatrical declaration punctuated by the expected hand over his heart and comical expression.
Helena rolled her eyes. “I’m warning you…” she mumbled. “Grennar–keep him out of trouble, alright?”
Her 2IC looked from the smart-mouthed Donovan and then back at her. “I’d rather be discharged, Captain.”
Helena groaned. She smacked her forehead with one gloved hand, then crooked a finger towards the still languishing Donovon. “Oi–shut up and come here.” She reached out, snagging him by the sleeve the moment he was within reach.
“H-heyyyy,” Donovan winked. “You don’t have to get rough. If you like it that way-”
“If you like your head, sitting on top of your shoulders, you will take care to remember that Yuna and Carman are half-fae and therefore, soulbonded in the eyes of their people, a detail that our society is too stupid to notice. He’s within his rights if he wishes to gut you for so much as breathing in her direction and she’s liable to scrape the flesh from your skull, if you annoy him. They’re fae. We don’t mess with them.”
Banter is often used to describe more raucous or familiar conversation between friends or colleagues, things of that nature. An example of banter would be injokes or casual, friendly insults that both parties know aren’t meant to be taken seriously.
I didn’t mind the way the two drunk men exchanged words until the beer started flying from their steins onto each other’s shirts. There was nothing wrong with some light debate or friendly banter; Hell, patrons at my bar had said much worse. But now that the two brats in adult clothing were ready to choke one another with their own neckties, I had had enough.
“All right, children!” I barked, slamming one large palm down on the counter. “Either you clean up or you get a time-out!”
How the relationship starts. Clever talk. Him impressing her, her impressing him. Then it gets a little deeper; who starts that ascendancy, or I think as some men might think, the slow descent into hell. I heard an interesting thing on a TV program. The woman says, “They asked a man what he was afraid of when it came to women. He said, ‘I’m afraid they’ll laugh at me.’ Then they asked a woman what would make her afraid of men, “I’m afraid they’ll kill me.'” That was one of the most telling lines in any show I’ve ever seen. The damned truth, sorry to say. And it isn’t just an American truth or a this country truth or a that religion truth. It’s the truth between genders all over the world. Men have the power; they make jokes all the time about who it is that really wears the pants in the family. But the truth is, they wear the pants and the armor; they have the firepower and the strength to break women in two. And if they don’t get what they want, well the passive ones find other women. And the aggressive ones force you to give it to them. Either way, the women lose. Agree or disagree? Care to banter a bit about that?
There are scales leaning toward tipping. The Libra’s scale of what is just and right. The scale in my hands, of importance and sacrifice. A chromatic scale, full of warm colors, where is the slider at today? A joke and jest, at who’s expense? At no one’s expense, at time’s expense. A bill only He can pay. Working toward nothing never felt so good. A smile turned nudge, a laugh turned shove. A scale shaking left to right, another growing hotter. It’s been too long since my eyes were wet with happiness.
Someday I will fill the Red Sea.