I live on the bench, they say. Not quite a hill, not quite a plain…the space in between the ocean and the bluff. Funny, if I lifted weights, how much would I bench on the bench?
“I’ve been meaning to have this talk with you for a while. And I’m only saying this because I love you and I think you’re amazing. But you are so miserable and you are the source of your own misery. It seems like you get some kind of enjoyment out of wallowing and complaining. Sometimes, I feel like you are living your life on a bench on the sidelines. If you’re unhappy, you need to get up and change things. No one else can do it for you. You are the only one who can.” – I was really weirded out and angry when you said this to me. But separated by months and perspective, I realize you were 100% right. Thank you.
I don’t usually utilize benches, lately the pain associated with walking would make me much more likely to use them, but I still don’t like them. They hurt my butt… but they’re very helpful when you need them so I shouldn’t be such a hater.
it was a cool, quiet night. the girl was sitting at the park bench by herself, slouching and feeling incredibly restless. her leg was shaking. she bit her lip. she tapped her fingers on her lap. thoughts rushed through her head. everything was so confusing. she ran her fingers through her hair took a deep drag off her half burnt cigarette. she let out a heavy sigh, and the smoke twirled mockingly in the air in front of her. she didn’t know why she still felt this way, and. why these thoughts still running through her head. she felt so trapped. she pulled herself up and crushed the cigarette under her worn gray converse, and ran as fast as she could. away from that bench. away from that park. away from her home. away from her problems. away from everything. she would be away from everything. at least for now.
i sat on the bench we first met, tearing slowly running down my face being quickly absorbed by the wood. what had i done? why me? i sniffled. Ky had just found out my past in the CIA. he just found out i worked for an association that killed his father. why me?!? i yelled. it was dark so no one was on the street. my fingers ran across the arm rests on the bench finding the engraved heart of Ky’s and my own initials. a tear dropped in the middle of the heart but that one dropped didn’t get absorbed. our love was untouchable. but never meant to be
They sat Jensen on a wooden bench in front of the fire, but it was all that he could do to stay in a sitting position. The pain radiating from the burn on his neck spread across his head and neck and shoulders to the point where it seemed he could actually hear the pain in his head.
Bench’s lined up against the courtyard as i drew closer to you, gently kissing the edges of your neck. finding where you hide all that warmth that I’m lacking. I love you. I feel it in every bone you brush against. you make my heart run around my whole body and fly back down to my legs when you whisper things I never knew.
I hated the sun at camp. I hated outside activities. I didn’t even like going in the pool because that was in the sun too! I remember sitting on a bench at the end of a field quite often because it was TOO DARNED HOT to run around and play whatever game they were trying to make us play. Of course the benches were also in the sun, but sitting, even in the sun, was still better than running around.
When I think about day camp, I always think of blinding sun and heat. “HOT!” Hot hot hot!
I’m still not a sun person. Gimme rain and some indoor AC!
Clutter everywhere; the floor, the table, the chairs, the bench in the hall. Moving seemed to be an epic event. It was the first move away from home. Which is odd seeing that she is 42. Staying at home to help her parents raise her younger sister seemed what she had to do. Now, with her sister gone, it was time for her to move on too.
it was there in the park on that lovely summer day where he swept me off my feet, laid me about that bench and made red stain through my little white shorts.
A spot of ice cream had made a small puddle on the bench beside me. The girl still chewing on the cone paid it no mind. Nor did she pay attention to the brown and green stain on her shirt that was spreading from her chin.
I smiled at her and waved when she caught my eye. But she shuddered and seemed afraid of me. I walked home that night debating whether or not to go to bed early.
I sat upon our old bench. I fingered the worn wood softly. This one bench held so many memories. A tear dropped from my eye, warping the wood. I wiped my eyes. No more crying. It was time to move on.
I could sit on a bench for hours just watching people. I wonder where they are going? What’s the worst thing that person has done? What are there hobbies. I imagine if people looked at me they would think something similar. Hmmmm
A comfortable place looking out over the water. I see the sailboats and the sun is sparkling on the lake. It is warm. I want to stay here and relax. The sun is soaking into the black of my shirt. I love that feeling. I wish I could remember this in winter.
There is a bum on a park bench. I’ve never seen him there before. I feel bad for him because he has to sleep there every night, so I walk up and give him some money to help his troubles. I ask him what his story is so he pats the seat and tells me to sit down. He seems to be a nice man so I take a seat. He tells me his story from beginning to end about being veteran with a purple heart and how when he got home from war his daughter had killed herself because she hadn’t heard from him and she thought he as dead. Ever since that day I visit him at his bench every other day and we just talk.
As I sat on the bench on that cold winter night, my hands were shaking on my lap. I thought to myself, what have I done!? I just left the one sole thing in my life that made me happy, that cared about me, that completed me in every way. I left him standing there on the sidewalk, just staring after me as the wind whipped by. And for what? A big house? A new job? A shiny car? A future that I have no idea will work out? What can be more important then love? Nothing. That’s the answer.
I have to go back. If I don’t, then someday I may not have someone to go back to.
She sits on the bench alone
Watching the people pass
Without a glance at her
Lone sorrowful face or
Her hand at her side, empty
Of another’s. She waits there
On the bench alone.
Waiting for someone to join her.
A wonderful place to sit and feed ducks the remains of a delicious sandwich. A place to sit and ponder about the intricacies of life and the world that surrounds us; quiet.
Sit down. You heard me. I didn’t spend my whole life, breaking bones and tearing off skin to watch you just piss it all away. Do what i say. You have to be stronger then that. Can you not hear me. Sit down damn it. Sit your ass down on that bench.
One day I just want to sit down on a park bench next to a stranger and just talk. Just strike up a conversation. despite their appearance. Just take a seat and proceed to speak.
There was a bench on the east side of the house. It had a little gold plaque on the back that said “dedicated to Gracie 1995 – 2004.” I wondered who Gracie was and if she ever had a chance to sit on that bench and watch the clouds go by.
BENCH – first thing that comes to my mind is to sit on one … .they are usually in the park and the color that I also have known them to be is a dull brown. It is a flat surface with four legs and seems very sturdy to hold any amount of weight. I don’t like the color once the rain saturates it but nevertheless … it is a good place to sit, eat your lunch and look at everyone. I don’t have one at my house and never thought to have one either.
I sit here trying to piece together the fragments of my life. The cold metal under me is the only thing that lets me know that I am alive. Why am I even sitting outside on a day as cold as this? Maybe its the fact that I havent been able to think straight since we hung up the phone. I couldn’t believe the words he said to me last night. I am forever broken by his statement ” i don’t love you anymore.”
The judge hung from the ceiling by his suspenders and swung his gavel back and forth against nothing, as if conducting a concert. Everyone in the courtroom held their breath: it was completely silent, save for the whooshing of the gavel through air.
“take your time out” she said. I had no choice, she was forcing me to by myself. My biggest fear. How long would this “time out” take? I wondered. I chose my spot in the middle of the park. The lone bench, that sat next to the creek. My surroundings could be worse I suppose.
I didn’t sit on the bench. I passed by, and didn’t notice its almost exquisitely auburn ends or its apparent ancient round tubes. Without heed, I walked past admiring just about everything else that wasn’t made by man.
There was a bench, which was really important to me. I know how stupid it may sound, but really. It was simply ‘special’. That was the place i experienced my first kiss, I drank my first beer and smoked my first cigarette. This simple bench, was place of my memories.
It wasn’t possible for them to be any closer on that one slab of wood, but, as the seconds in the cold air passed, they seemed to melt together to preserve heat. Nothing besides plain skin could be closer, as their hands twined together through leather.
sometimes my feelings for you scare me
we stood on the bench, surround by hundreds of people
screaming, cursing, cheering, wishing, breathing, panting, yelling
i was smiling, you have no idea how happy that made me
just to stand next to you, in the middle of all that noise
i was just so happy
you just make me feel like i’ve never felt
and that scares me, darling. it really does.
i miss you more than anything, you’re so close, yet so far.
so, so far away.
He lay down on the bench and prepared to lift the huge weight suspended by metal bars on top of him.
I should be able to do this, he thought, bench press at least this much after all that training.
The crowd watched eagerly as he breathed in and out, clasping the bar with his hands and bringing his shoulder blades together. The judges stared at him in rapt attention. He quickly exhaled and, with all his strength, lifted the weight off the rack.
The crowd cheered. He brought the bar to his chest and pushed upwards, letting out a loud shout. I did it, he thought, I really did. I broke the world record.
Then a hush came over the crowd, and then he heard gasps. A woman cried out. He looked around to see what the commotion was about. When his eyes hit the mirrors, he knew why the crowd was so shocked. The weight was floating above him.
Empty benches in the sunset, overlooking the sea. In memory of. The end of the road. A life well lived. Retirement. Feeding the pigeons. Something for those who have been passed by. A place to rest. Watching the world go by. Reading a newspaper. Spies.
She sat down on their bench, the one place they could always go back to and remind them that they could never stop loving each other. The rustling of leaves over on the other side of the park caught her attention, she looks up and sighs. “i cant do this” , she says to herself, crying she gets up to leave. Rudely bumped into she looks up “HEY ……” , her eyes widened. He grabs her hands and laughs , “sorry to keep you waiting” he says while still smiling at her.
when your chasing your dreams the world provides plenty of benches.
“Come on, sit down, rest a while” the benches say to you as you rush by
sometimes its so tempting just to sit down for a second…
but one second becomes a minute, and then a minute becomes a year
and your dreams are so far ahead of you, they are tiny specks on the horizon.
and then you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you’d never sat down
so don’t.
keep running, keep chasing, and watch your dreams get bigger and brighter as you catch up to them.
sometimes i wish i could just sit on a bench in the middle of a nowhere and think
but then when i actually do get the chance to do that i realize that since i’m in the middle of nowhere, there isn’t anything around to inspire my thoughts….so i get bored…and i also get writers block.
There I saw them, sitting on that bench over there. Like a sweet couple of tweeting birds they were. I hate to distract such a scene. I couldn’t go to speak to him!
sit and write. face down. see the ground. you’re stalling again. wait this one out. it’s for your own good. splinters in my thighs. don’t ask why. look at the goal. who sees you? don’t stop. just breathe. it’s time for a rest now. you have to stay focused.
I live on the bench, they say. Not quite a hill, not quite a plain…the space in between the ocean and the bluff. Funny, if I lifted weights, how much would I bench on the bench?
“I’ve been meaning to have this talk with you for a while. And I’m only saying this because I love you and I think you’re amazing. But you are so miserable and you are the source of your own misery. It seems like you get some kind of enjoyment out of wallowing and complaining. Sometimes, I feel like you are living your life on a bench on the sidelines. If you’re unhappy, you need to get up and change things. No one else can do it for you. You are the only one who can.” – I was really weirded out and angry when you said this to me. But separated by months and perspective, I realize you were 100% right. Thank you.
I don’t usually utilize benches, lately the pain associated with walking would make me much more likely to use them, but I still don’t like them. They hurt my butt… but they’re very helpful when you need them so I shouldn’t be such a hater.
it was a cool, quiet night. the girl was sitting at the park bench by herself, slouching and feeling incredibly restless. her leg was shaking. she bit her lip. she tapped her fingers on her lap. thoughts rushed through her head. everything was so confusing. she ran her fingers through her hair took a deep drag off her half burnt cigarette. she let out a heavy sigh, and the smoke twirled mockingly in the air in front of her. she didn’t know why she still felt this way, and. why these thoughts still running through her head. she felt so trapped. she pulled herself up and crushed the cigarette under her worn gray converse, and ran as fast as she could. away from that bench. away from that park. away from her home. away from her problems. away from everything. she would be away from everything. at least for now.
i sat on the bench we first met, tearing slowly running down my face being quickly absorbed by the wood. what had i done? why me? i sniffled. Ky had just found out my past in the CIA. he just found out i worked for an association that killed his father. why me?!? i yelled. it was dark so no one was on the street. my fingers ran across the arm rests on the bench finding the engraved heart of Ky’s and my own initials. a tear dropped in the middle of the heart but that one dropped didn’t get absorbed. our love was untouchable. but never meant to be
They sat Jensen on a wooden bench in front of the fire, but it was all that he could do to stay in a sitting position. The pain radiating from the burn on his neck spread across his head and neck and shoulders to the point where it seemed he could actually hear the pain in his head.
Bench’s lined up against the courtyard as i drew closer to you, gently kissing the edges of your neck. finding where you hide all that warmth that I’m lacking. I love you. I feel it in every bone you brush against. you make my heart run around my whole body and fly back down to my legs when you whisper things I never knew.
Bench
I hated the sun at camp. I hated outside activities. I didn’t even like going in the pool because that was in the sun too! I remember sitting on a bench at the end of a field quite often because it was TOO DARNED HOT to run around and play whatever game they were trying to make us play. Of course the benches were also in the sun, but sitting, even in the sun, was still better than running around.
When I think about day camp, I always think of blinding sun and heat. “HOT!” Hot hot hot!
I’m still not a sun person. Gimme rain and some indoor AC!
Clutter everywhere; the floor, the table, the chairs, the bench in the hall. Moving seemed to be an epic event. It was the first move away from home. Which is odd seeing that she is 42. Staying at home to help her parents raise her younger sister seemed what she had to do. Now, with her sister gone, it was time for her to move on too.
I sat on a bench eating a banana in the park. I slipped on the peel and hit my head on the bench. I said fuck and sat back down.
it was there in the park on that lovely summer day where he swept me off my feet, laid me about that bench and made red stain through my little white shorts.
A spot of ice cream had made a small puddle on the bench beside me. The girl still chewing on the cone paid it no mind. Nor did she pay attention to the brown and green stain on her shirt that was spreading from her chin.
I smiled at her and waved when she caught my eye. But she shuddered and seemed afraid of me. I walked home that night debating whether or not to go to bed early.
I sat upon our old bench. I fingered the worn wood softly. This one bench held so many memories. A tear dropped from my eye, warping the wood. I wiped my eyes. No more crying. It was time to move on.
I could sit on a bench for hours just watching people. I wonder where they are going? What’s the worst thing that person has done? What are there hobbies. I imagine if people looked at me they would think something similar. Hmmmm
A comfortable place looking out over the water. I see the sailboats and the sun is sparkling on the lake. It is warm. I want to stay here and relax. The sun is soaking into the black of my shirt. I love that feeling. I wish I could remember this in winter.
There is a bum on a park bench. I’ve never seen him there before. I feel bad for him because he has to sleep there every night, so I walk up and give him some money to help his troubles. I ask him what his story is so he pats the seat and tells me to sit down. He seems to be a nice man so I take a seat. He tells me his story from beginning to end about being veteran with a purple heart and how when he got home from war his daughter had killed herself because she hadn’t heard from him and she thought he as dead. Ever since that day I visit him at his bench every other day and we just talk.
As I sat on the bench on that cold winter night, my hands were shaking on my lap. I thought to myself, what have I done!? I just left the one sole thing in my life that made me happy, that cared about me, that completed me in every way. I left him standing there on the sidewalk, just staring after me as the wind whipped by. And for what? A big house? A new job? A shiny car? A future that I have no idea will work out? What can be more important then love? Nothing. That’s the answer.
I have to go back. If I don’t, then someday I may not have someone to go back to.
She sits on the bench alone
Watching the people pass
Without a glance at her
Lone sorrowful face or
Her hand at her side, empty
Of another’s. She waits there
On the bench alone.
Waiting for someone to join her.
A wonderful place to sit and feed ducks the remains of a delicious sandwich. A place to sit and ponder about the intricacies of life and the world that surrounds us; quiet.
Sit down. You heard me. I didn’t spend my whole life, breaking bones and tearing off skin to watch you just piss it all away. Do what i say. You have to be stronger then that. Can you not hear me. Sit down damn it. Sit your ass down on that bench.
One day I just want to sit down on a park bench next to a stranger and just talk. Just strike up a conversation. despite their appearance. Just take a seat and proceed to speak.
There was a bench on the east side of the house. It had a little gold plaque on the back that said “dedicated to Gracie 1995 – 2004.” I wondered who Gracie was and if she ever had a chance to sit on that bench and watch the clouds go by.
BENCH – first thing that comes to my mind is to sit on one … .they are usually in the park and the color that I also have known them to be is a dull brown. It is a flat surface with four legs and seems very sturdy to hold any amount of weight. I don’t like the color once the rain saturates it but nevertheless … it is a good place to sit, eat your lunch and look at everyone. I don’t have one at my house and never thought to have one either.
I sit here trying to piece together the fragments of my life. The cold metal under me is the only thing that lets me know that I am alive. Why am I even sitting outside on a day as cold as this? Maybe its the fact that I havent been able to think straight since we hung up the phone. I couldn’t believe the words he said to me last night. I am forever broken by his statement ” i don’t love you anymore.”
The judge hung from the ceiling by his suspenders and swung his gavel back and forth against nothing, as if conducting a concert. Everyone in the courtroom held their breath: it was completely silent, save for the whooshing of the gavel through air.
Ben benches benches to impress the wenches.
“take your time out” she said. I had no choice, she was forcing me to by myself. My biggest fear. How long would this “time out” take? I wondered. I chose my spot in the middle of the park. The lone bench, that sat next to the creek. My surroundings could be worse I suppose.
I didn’t sit on the bench. I passed by, and didn’t notice its almost exquisitely auburn ends or its apparent ancient round tubes. Without heed, I walked past admiring just about everything else that wasn’t made by man.
I’ve sat on many a seat
My mother’s lap, my father’s armchair
the nursery bottom step
after pulling some girl’s hair
the most expensive was on
my wedding day
oak, royal, worn smooth
my happiness
but the best was the bench
in the park
the wood quiet in the dawn
as I woke to a bottle in my cold hand
There was a bench, which was really important to me. I know how stupid it may sound, but really. It was simply ‘special’. That was the place i experienced my first kiss, I drank my first beer and smoked my first cigarette. This simple bench, was place of my memories.
It wasn’t possible for them to be any closer on that one slab of wood, but, as the seconds in the cold air passed, they seemed to melt together to preserve heat. Nothing besides plain skin could be closer, as their hands twined together through leather.
“I love you.”
sometimes my feelings for you scare me
we stood on the bench, surround by hundreds of people
screaming, cursing, cheering, wishing, breathing, panting, yelling
i was smiling, you have no idea how happy that made me
just to stand next to you, in the middle of all that noise
i was just so happy
you just make me feel like i’ve never felt
and that scares me, darling. it really does.
i miss you more than anything, you’re so close, yet so far.
so, so far away.
the bench
a cold and stony sept
amidst the sun and shining rays
of what life i thought would be mine
pondering on some future days
but here i sit alone
among friends and family
known
no one truly understands
but alas, neither do i
He lay down on the bench and prepared to lift the huge weight suspended by metal bars on top of him.
I should be able to do this, he thought, bench press at least this much after all that training.
The crowd watched eagerly as he breathed in and out, clasping the bar with his hands and bringing his shoulder blades together. The judges stared at him in rapt attention. He quickly exhaled and, with all his strength, lifted the weight off the rack.
The crowd cheered. He brought the bar to his chest and pushed upwards, letting out a loud shout. I did it, he thought, I really did. I broke the world record.
Then a hush came over the crowd, and then he heard gasps. A woman cried out. He looked around to see what the commotion was about. When his eyes hit the mirrors, he knew why the crowd was so shocked. The weight was floating above him.
His arms were gone.
Empty benches in the sunset, overlooking the sea. In memory of. The end of the road. A life well lived. Retirement. Feeding the pigeons. Something for those who have been passed by. A place to rest. Watching the world go by. Reading a newspaper. Spies.
She sat down on their bench, the one place they could always go back to and remind them that they could never stop loving each other. The rustling of leaves over on the other side of the park caught her attention, she looks up and sighs. “i cant do this” , she says to herself, crying she gets up to leave. Rudely bumped into she looks up “HEY ……” , her eyes widened. He grabs her hands and laughs , “sorry to keep you waiting” he says while still smiling at her.
when your chasing your dreams the world provides plenty of benches.
“Come on, sit down, rest a while” the benches say to you as you rush by
sometimes its so tempting just to sit down for a second…
but one second becomes a minute, and then a minute becomes a year
and your dreams are so far ahead of you, they are tiny specks on the horizon.
and then you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you’d never sat down
so don’t.
keep running, keep chasing, and watch your dreams get bigger and brighter as you catch up to them.
sometimes i wish i could just sit on a bench in the middle of a nowhere and think
but then when i actually do get the chance to do that i realize that since i’m in the middle of nowhere, there isn’t anything around to inspire my thoughts….so i get bored…and i also get writers block.
be careful what you wish for.
There I saw them, sitting on that bench over there. Like a sweet couple of tweeting birds they were. I hate to distract such a scene. I couldn’t go to speak to him!
sit and write. face down. see the ground. you’re stalling again. wait this one out. it’s for your own good. splinters in my thighs. don’t ask why. look at the goal. who sees you? don’t stop. just breathe. it’s time for a rest now. you have to stay focused.