my house is made with bricks.
We use red bricks to make it .
Bricks are solid, hard and if u hit someone with a brick they are gone !
Bricks can be used to be a stool in rural places.
Our love is as strong and sturdy as the bricks we walked on around the campus grounds. From the foundation up, nothing can ever break our relationship; not even a huge huff and puff from a wolf named Distance. Now as I walk around campus, the bricks here now remind me of you everyday. We passed every building, tree, and bench while walking on a couple loose and wobbly bricks. The loose bricks caused by the harsh conditions of Distance are there, but nothing can ever make the bricks crumble.
It was a clever color to compare to skin. brick colored.. she was brick colers and it was because they made her that way.. clay woman whose brown eyes could curdle milk. She didn’t want to say hello and she ended up being Bricked. Cold nights lead to cold hearts
She had built bricks around it. It was understandable, after what it had been through. Pain inflicted, inerasable memories created unwillingly–it was only natural to protect what had once been pure from further harm. But within it grew something bright and hopeful. A small speck of life, protected for the time being. Until it would arise one day, trusting and naive, and try to fill in its missing pieces.
The bricks were lined up one by one next to each other, making a trail. The trail led to some place I’d never been. Not necessarily some place I wanted to go, but just some place new. And isn’t that always nice? Some place new? Some place lurking with new opportunities and adventures? Some place where I could leave my mark on the world? Bricks…lead the way.
They had started to crumble. the mortar was weak. the edges were chipping, cracking, busting apart until soon the very foundations would be destroyed. a lazy comment, a rebuff, a rebuke … this was kryptonite to the health of US.
the brick house stood where it always had. in the middle of the field surrounded by barley. John and Mickey walked out of the house with their rifles slung over their shoulder, ready to free their country.
Bricks of longitude and other diresction fill my brain as usual. They are hard and demanding, yet get the job done when one calls upon their illustrious yet solid form. Sometimes it’s hard simply disregard a brick’s future and pas
bricks come from people you meet. they are mortared with your emotions, and are made up of the things that those people do to you. sometimes the bricks are light anf fluffy, others are dense and dark. Some have very little mortar so they crumble off, others have so much of it that no matter how hard you want to get rid of that dense evil brick it won’t ever let go of you.
Bricks. Just bricks. Trying to think of an idea and you hit a wall… of bricks. Just bricks. You want to write something decent? Bricks. It’s always bricks. If you want to write, that’s all you’re gonna get. Just bricks. Nothing more, nevermore. Bricks. This is a wall… of bricks.
The bricks started falling one after the other. She spun and bobbed screaming for her life. She couldn’t breathe. It was like the ceiling was closing in on her. She gasped as the last lop sided brick fell and the chimes rang. Tetris gained a new high score.
hit the cement
and make me dance
like a fool.
they’ve gotten bold once again.
this time the old woman gives up
on picking up the remains of the old church building.
I quaver, and I can tell that my voice wants to crack. Rubble. Everywhere there are piles of it. Scattered bricks and the burnt-out carcasses of houses. The street I had grown up on, gutted as though some mighty hand had reached down and ground the trees and buildings and cars into dust.
I really like bricks. I really want a house made out of them. I used to live in New York where everything was made of bricks. Red ones. Brown ones. All sorts of odd colored ones. It was beautiful. I wish I could live there again. In a brick house of course.
Bricks of mud and dust and clay. Bound together by blood and sweat. Such a house would not fall anytime soon, not with the weight of memories pulled together from too many lives and too many mistakes and too many regrets. This was a place with a long memory and a longer future. The man who built this house understood this well, though he could be called a man no longer.
The last in a marathon, the one biting dust
Unable to keep up, to adapt, to adjust
Running for hours with no end to the torment
A body made of bricks, a heart full of cement.
Bricks, bricks and more bricks. Everywhere there was piles of bricks. The old building had crumbled to the ground in the earthquake, but to sift through all these bricks to find anything worth saving was going to be a lot of work.
The build you up
they are the foundation
the strictly solid
wall of the nation
they are red and brown
and go up and down
dont mess with bricks
they will brick you up
Bricks reminds me of a story that I heard this week. A woman I met was speaking about her grandfather. He was a school teacher who had a school named after him. Unfortunately, his name was Brick, so no one knew that he was the school’s namesake. It seemed to be just a description. It was funny to hear her tell it. Maybe you had to be there.
The bricks were built up slowly, slathered with mortar layer after layer. It took time, it took sweat, and it took patience. The house was beautiful when it was done – built on a solid foundation, to last for decades to come.
In my mind, there was a think brick wall. I had built it years ago, a shield from all the situations I had been put in, or put myself in. I had been hurt too many times. Then eh came along and broke my wall, brick by brick, building a pathway to my heart. Him and I were connected, and this time, I just knew that my wall wasn’t needed, that things would be alright.
The bricks on the wall tipped slowly from one side to another, finally collapsing. A man on the other side saw it coming and ran from the tumbling bricks above his head. He ventured through the streets and through the city.
bricks arnt jst the fondation of a house they can also describe my friends and family and mostly him because they these people are the foundation of me my entire being
Words hits like bricks
except upon deaf ears
hold your head high
bloody noses are the new tear
no need for headphones
black eyes are in this year
show you’ve been reading
sporting bandages like war gear
bricks stacked neatly in line separated by a thin, even line of cement. perfect, symmetrical tessellation. So simple, rustic, raw, industrial, powerful and STRONG! A gem of all time.
bricks are used to build a house. lay down a foundation…they are also used to knock people out. brains splattered across the pavement, next to the house that the bricks were also used to built.
Brick by boring , life continues. I try to build and it continues to fall. I need a greater foundation. That will make brick by brick, an adventure of life.
Bricks began stacking up. I didn’t know what they were building, but before I knew, they had piled up. A building was there, before me. And a door opened. A new chance. So I walked in. And ever since, I’ve kept moving, never stopping, never forgetting the bricks tha
small, red rectangular prisms cover the outside of the house, wall to wall. chipped in the corners and dusty on top. Stacked one on top of the other, toe to toe.
The foundation of everything is made of bricks. At least that’s how I see it. Quite obviously, buildings are made of bricks, but so are relationships, friendships, careers and your learning. Brick by brick you built everything from the bottom up.
my house is made with bricks.
We use red bricks to make it .
Bricks are solid, hard and if u hit someone with a brick they are gone !
Bricks can be used to be a stool in rural places.
Our love is as strong and sturdy as the bricks we walked on around the campus grounds. From the foundation up, nothing can ever break our relationship; not even a huge huff and puff from a wolf named Distance. Now as I walk around campus, the bricks here now remind me of you everyday. We passed every building, tree, and bench while walking on a couple loose and wobbly bricks. The loose bricks caused by the harsh conditions of Distance are there, but nothing can ever make the bricks crumble.
It was a clever color to compare to skin. brick colored.. she was brick colers and it was because they made her that way.. clay woman whose brown eyes could curdle milk. She didn’t want to say hello and she ended up being Bricked. Cold nights lead to cold hearts
She had built bricks around it. It was understandable, after what it had been through. Pain inflicted, inerasable memories created unwillingly–it was only natural to protect what had once been pure from further harm. But within it grew something bright and hopeful. A small speck of life, protected for the time being. Until it would arise one day, trusting and naive, and try to fill in its missing pieces.
All the bricks, dear,
Do you still remember?
You fell and drowned.
Tortured and sacrificed
Whatever was left.
Then you felt the sun
Again, you saw the next one.
Maybe after all, they all worth it.
The bricks were lined up one by one next to each other, making a trail. The trail led to some place I’d never been. Not necessarily some place I wanted to go, but just some place new. And isn’t that always nice? Some place new? Some place lurking with new opportunities and adventures? Some place where I could leave my mark on the world? Bricks…lead the way.
They had started to crumble. the mortar was weak. the edges were chipping, cracking, busting apart until soon the very foundations would be destroyed. a lazy comment, a rebuff, a rebuke … this was kryptonite to the health of US.
the brick house stood where it always had. in the middle of the field surrounded by barley. John and Mickey walked out of the house with their rifles slung over their shoulder, ready to free their country.
Bricks of longitude and other diresction fill my brain as usual. They are hard and demanding, yet get the job done when one calls upon their illustrious yet solid form. Sometimes it’s hard simply disregard a brick’s future and pas
bricks come from people you meet. they are mortared with your emotions, and are made up of the things that those people do to you. sometimes the bricks are light anf fluffy, others are dense and dark. Some have very little mortar so they crumble off, others have so much of it that no matter how hard you want to get rid of that dense evil brick it won’t ever let go of you.
Bricks. Just bricks. Trying to think of an idea and you hit a wall… of bricks. Just bricks. You want to write something decent? Bricks. It’s always bricks. If you want to write, that’s all you’re gonna get. Just bricks. Nothing more, nevermore. Bricks. This is a wall… of bricks.
she left us like the wicked
witch of the west did:
combusting into a pile of
empty clothing beneath
a house’s worth of bricks.
He threw the brick with a fierceness at the boy walking along the sidewalk. BOOM the brick hit it’s target and met the sidewalk in pieces.
The bricks started falling one after the other. She spun and bobbed screaming for her life. She couldn’t breathe. It was like the ceiling was closing in on her. She gasped as the last lop sided brick fell and the chimes rang. Tetris gained a new high score.
hit the cement
and make me dance
like a fool.
they’ve gotten bold once again.
this time the old woman gives up
on picking up the remains of the old church building.
red hard strong buildings tall high dusty chimney stoney concrete mortar brick-layer
I quaver, and I can tell that my voice wants to crack. Rubble. Everywhere there are piles of it. Scattered bricks and the burnt-out carcasses of houses. The street I had grown up on, gutted as though some mighty hand had reached down and ground the trees and buildings and cars into dust.
I really like bricks. I really want a house made out of them. I used to live in New York where everything was made of bricks. Red ones. Brown ones. All sorts of odd colored ones. It was beautiful. I wish I could live there again. In a brick house of course.
Bricks of mud and dust and clay. Bound together by blood and sweat. Such a house would not fall anytime soon, not with the weight of memories pulled together from too many lives and too many mistakes and too many regrets. This was a place with a long memory and a longer future. The man who built this house understood this well, though he could be called a man no longer.
ok
walls. only show the separation of properties. Create old houses. Dull. somewhat heavy. disty. Dirty. Mud. Oran
The last in a marathon, the one biting dust
Unable to keep up, to adapt, to adjust
Running for hours with no end to the torment
A body made of bricks, a heart full of cement.
THEY HOLD HOMES TOGETHER. THEY ARE STONES FOR THE WAY WE LIVE. THEY PROVIDE WARMTH FOR PEOPLE. THEY ARE RED. THEY ARE HEAVY. AND THEY CAN HURT…
Bricks, bricks and more bricks. Everywhere there was piles of bricks. The old building had crumbled to the ground in the earthquake, but to sift through all these bricks to find anything worth saving was going to be a lot of work.
The build you up
they are the foundation
the strictly solid
wall of the nation
they are red and brown
and go up and down
dont mess with bricks
they will brick you up
Bricks reminds me of a story that I heard this week. A woman I met was speaking about her grandfather. He was a school teacher who had a school named after him. Unfortunately, his name was Brick, so no one knew that he was the school’s namesake. It seemed to be just a description. It was funny to hear her tell it. Maybe you had to be there.
The bricks were built up slowly, slathered with mortar layer after layer. It took time, it took sweat, and it took patience. The house was beautiful when it was done – built on a solid foundation, to last for decades to come.
In my mind, there was a think brick wall. I had built it years ago, a shield from all the situations I had been put in, or put myself in. I had been hurt too many times. Then eh came along and broke my wall, brick by brick, building a pathway to my heart. Him and I were connected, and this time, I just knew that my wall wasn’t needed, that things would be alright.
bricks are the fundamental unit of a structure like cells as cells are the fundamental unit of life.
The bricks on the wall tipped slowly from one side to another, finally collapsing. A man on the other side saw it coming and ran from the tumbling bricks above his head. He ventured through the streets and through the city.
bricks arnt jst the fondation of a house they can also describe my friends and family and mostly him because they these people are the foundation of me my entire being
Words hits like bricks
except upon deaf ears
hold your head high
bloody noses are the new tear
no need for headphones
black eyes are in this year
show you’ve been reading
sporting bandages like war gear
bricks stacked neatly in line separated by a thin, even line of cement. perfect, symmetrical tessellation. So simple, rustic, raw, industrial, powerful and STRONG! A gem of all time.
bricks are used to build a house. lay down a foundation…they are also used to knock people out. brains splattered across the pavement, next to the house that the bricks were also used to built.
Brick by boring , life continues. I try to build and it continues to fall. I need a greater foundation. That will make brick by brick, an adventure of life.
Bricks began stacking up. I didn’t know what they were building, but before I knew, they had piled up. A building was there, before me. And a door opened. A new chance. So I walked in. And ever since, I’ve kept moving, never stopping, never forgetting the bricks tha
small, red rectangular prisms cover the outside of the house, wall to wall. chipped in the corners and dusty on top. Stacked one on top of the other, toe to toe.
I’ve seen this one. I’ve seen bricks. I’ve written about this word. So have other people. Nothing is original. It all repeats.
Bricks fell from the sky in vicious clumps. Casualties surrounded me as I wandered about with my umbrella in hand.
The foundation of everything is made of bricks. At least that’s how I see it. Quite obviously, buildings are made of bricks, but so are relationships, friendships, careers and your learning. Brick by brick you built everything from the bottom up.