As i pulled back the bow my fingers shook with excitement. In your face Mr Archer, an ironic name given the circumstances. I let go and i clipped his left ear. Have that you pratt.
“Bow to me.” He spoke softly. The young boy in front of him bowed down immediately, his scraggly black hair becoming as a curtain around his head. Looking up, he bit his lip, nervous.
i wore bows in my hair in middle school almost everyday. It reminds me of the past and the good times i used to have with a group of friends that I still know and love today.
Bow down to your master. Like the rest of humanity, there is always some sort of leader we are expected to listen to. There is always some form of rules we are expected to adhere to. Break the mould. Go on.
I bow to those above me. I bow to the soldiers, to the doctors, to the moms. I bow to the friends, the shoulders to cry on, to the loyal pets. Thank you.
He bowed graciously… and nearly tipped off the stage.
“I told you to stop doing shots during your set,” she said later, more amused than annoyed.
He had a bit of a headache, but he smiled anyway.
It took myself a minute to realize the situation I was in. Of, course, I always dreamed of standing in the great hall, but never to actually stand beside the enormous shimmering gold curtains. But then I remembered why I was standing in this hall, and my motions sank again.
She placed the bow gently on her little sister’s head,
“There, Isabella, you look beautiful”
“Thanks Anna, you’re pretty too!”
Anna smiled sadly at her younger sibling’s innocence, for little Isabella had no inclination that her beloved older sister would be lifeless by the next sunrise.
Bow before God, bow before tradition, bow to your elders, bow down. I will never bow. I will hold my head high and look my husband in the eye. I will not be spineless under the weight of fear. My knees will not buckle from the pressure of others. My face will not hit the ground in shame. I stand tall before God. I stand up for myself. I laugh loudly in the face of those who attempt to distort me. I am my own. Should I ever bow, in any way, to anyone or anything, it will be my choice, my desire and my own will.
i hate bows
you suck my bows
um that kid doesnt like bows, but he likes bugs…um and dominating and bug sex and wtf does this have to do with bows…..
um yes.
The little red bow on top of the girls platinum blonde hair shined in the sunlight. The same bow was given to her from her grandmother, who recieved it from her grandmother. This bow created infinite powers for the beholder. She just didn’t know it yet.
You should be proud of yourself. You’ve managed to push away those who meant the most to you in your past, and you’re intently pushing away those close to you now. Take a bow. You’re a successful failure.
A freshly used bow and arrow had been placed on the shelf. Elmira knew it had been used because of the dirt that resided on the tip of the arrow where it had failed to strike the target. Elmira picked up the bow from off the shelf and studied it carefully.
Bow? I’ll bow my head, for the future up ahead. For i’m at it’s mercy as they’ve all said. But I can still make it as best I can. I’m shaping the future to my own fucking plans! Shit yeah.
A simple answer-neat, tidy and confidant. An explanation to the “ifs” “buts” and “whats” clotting my consciousness. I want the sitcom ending. I want what Hollywood promised me. I crave the superficially satisfying story where in the last 5 minutes, everything is tied up in a neat tidy bow-and I can be confidant in myself once again.
He’s done it before, over the course of tens of thousands of shows in his career, possessing a cockroach-like longevity that had began far into his childhood . . . that sweeping motion, the strain at the waist . . .
But tonight tears sting his eyes, for he knows–and the audience knows–it will be his last. He takes a bow, and another, and another. He is sure he can stand and allow the applause fill his ears forever.
She had one shot. She was concentrated, steady, ready. She let fly the arrow that had previously been held so steady in her two fingers. It hit the target right where she wanted it to. There, practice was over. “Nice shot! Again! It makes me a little sick.”
Feelings of isolation in a room full of friends.
Pondering outcomes, pondering ends.
Fear of feeling too much, scared I’m showing too little.
Insecurities and unsurities playing my heart like a fiddle.
Anticipating the curtain call, my final bow should tell it all.
Bow down
To nothing.
Wax paper fables
Housed in leather hardback.
History fabricated,
A distorted past.
A brain washed nation
To believe the notion
Of mock ghosts,
aimless gods,
Replica relics.
Living dead forced
Into almanacs.
A timeless story
Stolen by the wicked
To control the others;
The Grimm Fairytales A.D.
With a bow and arrow the archer aims at the heart of its prey and shoots. Bingo. The arrow pierces through the victim’s chest and tears him apart into a million broken pieces.
He stared off the bow of the ship, scanning the horizon for the enemy ship. As his eyes swept from East to West, they were caught by a strange light, pulsing on the horizon. Not the dull yellow of the sunset, but a brilliant blue, pulsating with his heartbeat.
the woman was made to bow in front of the leader. she was slender with long raven hair. she had been accused of trying to leave the camp. the leader was a large man with a long beard that fell almost to his waist.
An ebony bow, strong and sturdy. With a string from the finest silk in the land, accompanied by a quiver with a number of similar arrows.
Arrows, flying freely, never missing a target. Always landing that fatal blow. Straight through the left eye. See it coming? Now you’re gone…
As i pulled back the bow my fingers shook with excitement. In your face Mr Archer, an ironic name given the circumstances. I let go and i clipped his left ear. Have that you pratt.
asian custom upon greeting – tool used to shoot arrows – wob backwards – in gesture, a sign of respect and possibly submission.
bow until your back breaks. if they refuse to look up at you, force them to bend their necks in your reverence, as to look down upon you.
“Bow to me.” He spoke softly. The young boy in front of him bowed down immediately, his scraggly black hair becoming as a curtain around his head. Looking up, he bit his lip, nervous.
i wore bows in my hair in middle school almost everyday. It reminds me of the past and the good times i used to have with a group of friends that I still know and love today.
Bow down to your master. Like the rest of humanity, there is always some sort of leader we are expected to listen to. There is always some form of rules we are expected to adhere to. Break the mould. Go on.
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I bow to those above me. I bow to the soldiers, to the doctors, to the moms. I bow to the friends, the shoulders to cry on, to the loyal pets. Thank you.
He bowed graciously… and nearly tipped off the stage.
“I told you to stop doing shots during your set,” she said later, more amused than annoyed.
He had a bit of a headache, but he smiled anyway.
It took myself a minute to realize the situation I was in. Of, course, I always dreamed of standing in the great hall, but never to actually stand beside the enormous shimmering gold curtains. But then I remembered why I was standing in this hall, and my motions sank again.
She placed the bow gently on her little sister’s head,
“There, Isabella, you look beautiful”
“Thanks Anna, you’re pretty too!”
Anna smiled sadly at her younger sibling’s innocence, for little Isabella had no inclination that her beloved older sister would be lifeless by the next sunrise.
Bow before God, bow before tradition, bow to your elders, bow down. I will never bow. I will hold my head high and look my husband in the eye. I will not be spineless under the weight of fear. My knees will not buckle from the pressure of others. My face will not hit the ground in shame. I stand tall before God. I stand up for myself. I laugh loudly in the face of those who attempt to distort me. I am my own. Should I ever bow, in any way, to anyone or anything, it will be my choice, my desire and my own will.
down to washington it’s what you do to someone you respect. it comes from asian cultures. han solo bowed to princess lea in star wars.
i hate bows
you suck my bows
um that kid doesnt like bows, but he likes bugs…um and dominating and bug sex and wtf does this have to do with bows…..
um yes.
The little red bow on top of the girls platinum blonde hair shined in the sunlight. The same bow was given to her from her grandmother, who recieved it from her grandmother. This bow created infinite powers for the beholder. She just didn’t know it yet.
You should be proud of yourself. You’ve managed to push away those who meant the most to you in your past, and you’re intently pushing away those close to you now. Take a bow. You’re a successful failure.
Intuition told him a lot of things. It had saved him from many a near-death experience. Today, intuition told him he was going to die.
Still, he stood straight, and said the single most foolish thing he ever had in his entire life.
“I will not bow.”
A freshly used bow and arrow had been placed on the shelf. Elmira knew it had been used because of the dirt that resided on the tip of the arrow where it had failed to strike the target. Elmira picked up the bow from off the shelf and studied it carefully.
Bow? I’ll bow my head, for the future up ahead. For i’m at it’s mercy as they’ve all said. But I can still make it as best I can. I’m shaping the future to my own fucking plans! Shit yeah.
A simple answer-neat, tidy and confidant. An explanation to the “ifs” “buts” and “whats” clotting my consciousness. I want the sitcom ending. I want what Hollywood promised me. I crave the superficially satisfying story where in the last 5 minutes, everything is tied up in a neat tidy bow-and I can be confidant in myself once again.
He’s done it before, over the course of tens of thousands of shows in his career, possessing a cockroach-like longevity that had began far into his childhood . . . that sweeping motion, the strain at the waist . . .
But tonight tears sting his eyes, for he knows–and the audience knows–it will be his last. He takes a bow, and another, and another. He is sure he can stand and allow the applause fill his ears forever.
She had one shot. She was concentrated, steady, ready. She let fly the arrow that had previously been held so steady in her two fingers. It hit the target right where she wanted it to. There, practice was over. “Nice shot! Again! It makes me a little sick.”
Bow.
The front of the boat. Point to Mount Mansfield, child. Stay on course.
Feelings of isolation in a room full of friends.
Pondering outcomes, pondering ends.
Fear of feeling too much, scared I’m showing too little.
Insecurities and unsurities playing my heart like a fiddle.
Anticipating the curtain call, my final bow should tell it all.
Bow like what obnoxious scene sluts wear or bow as in what you do after a preformance?
Good lord.
Gawddayum.
Gewd lawd.
take a bow. no don’t. stop . listen, listen to the sounds, listen to the whispers, listen to the applause of the trees around you. Listen. Just listen
skinny little bitch.
the one with the bow in her hair.
yeah.
that one.
a deadly long ranged weapon used to kill from a far. if the bow is used right it is the most useful weapon ever made.
I bowed to him. He stared out the window behind me. “I presume…” he trailed off, looking to the floor. I can’t imagine a night worse than this.
Bow down
To nothing.
Wax paper fables
Housed in leather hardback.
History fabricated,
A distorted past.
A brain washed nation
To believe the notion
Of mock ghosts,
aimless gods,
Replica relics.
Living dead forced
Into almanacs.
A timeless story
Stolen by the wicked
To control the others;
The Grimm Fairytales A.D.
With a bow and arrow the archer aims at the heart of its prey and shoots. Bingo. The arrow pierces through the victim’s chest and tears him apart into a million broken pieces.
He stared off the bow of the ship, scanning the horizon for the enemy ship. As his eyes swept from East to West, they were caught by a strange light, pulsing on the horizon. Not the dull yellow of the sunset, but a brilliant blue, pulsating with his heartbeat.
take a bow after your piece at the piano recital.
He notched his bow and stood quietly until he saw what he was waiting for, … his dinner.
something that you use in a boat
a sound
weapon
They say every knee will bow down to Jesus…but how does that agree with the bowing of my heart in to submission to my Lord. There is a correlation.
the woman was made to bow in front of the leader. she was slender with long raven hair. she had been accused of trying to leave the camp. the leader was a large man with a long beard that fell almost to his waist.
Take a bow! That’s what first comes to n=mind. Then a bow in a girl’s hair. A bow and arrow. backwards I would think of wobble. hehe backwards.