i like to take a bucket and spade to the seaside. preferably a big spade, for digging big moats and building big sandcastles, we have a bucket which is yellow I think I need to get a new one for our holiday becv=se the handle’s broken. we like to cellect hermit crabs too.
Go to the top of the Effiel Tower
Sky dive
got to all London attractions
go to Oz
cook in a restaurant
have a successful business
raise a family
watch the sunrise on a beach
go camping
i collected a bucket of water from the river.
Then I pour the water into the drum. The drum was full of fresh water that i collected. I use the water for washing
A bucket of memories. That’s what my mind feels like sometimes. Just stuff and stuff and more stuff, slimy and dirty and slippery, all crammed together in a little space, with no choice but to sit there in my head and never go away. If you put old trash in a bucket and eave it by the back door, it won’t disappear. It’ll just sit there, for months, getting smellier and more unpleasant to deal with every day you choose to ignore it. That’s what the things in my brain are like. They can’t simply go away, leave, hide in some forgotten corner. Everything always has to float back up.
bucket, sitting empty in the sun.
bucket, swung up by joyful, tiny, life-filled hands.
bucket, filled with life-giving water.
bucket, poured on the dirt, on tender green plants.
bucket, swung down on the ground.
bucket, a carrier of life-giving food.
A bucket, commonly seen as something very utilitarian, very practical has permeated our lives in ways we can never imagine. Could you imagine life without buckets? No. They are so much more useful and precious than so many other things, and yet their value pass us by every time.
i have a bucket of thoughts attached to feelings that i would like to pour on you. a bucket of desires which i have to let free, a bucket of unsettling longing, a bucket of giving.
Bucket rhymes with “bakit”, which means “why” in Tagalog. That’s kinda why it’s used in an advertisement with ice BUCKETS and asking BAKIT you should buy it.
i see that buckets are made for holding but what if they are made for emptying. what if i took all the contents in my heart, the icky kind, and emptied it on the ground. i wouldn’t want my bucket to hold it forever. my bucket is master emptier. it empties all things.
buckets have a lot of water in them. that’s stupid because not all of them do. i don’t know. i think of red and sand when i think of buckets. it would suck if they all had holes in them. then there would be no purpose. who really uses buckets? i don’t they’re dumb objects. ha.
bucket man is awesome. he doesn’t do much, but everyone’s eternally grateful for him, even though the security man always does the saving. and bucket man is awesome because he’s an ordinary guy
empty yet full
half empty?
children laughing and mother’s crying.
is it a hat or a tool?
do you fill it
do i fill it
does it fulfill me?
bucket for you, bucket for tea
Pass the buck…the buck stops here…but the buck never seems to stop in our society anymore. There is always someone else that can be left holding the buck. What happened to personal responsibility?
Drip. Drip… Did it stop? Drip. Drip. She picked herself off the bed and sighed. ‘Nope,’ she said as she glanced over at the bucket at the brink of overflowing with rain.
A bucket is one of the simplest things in the Universe. It’s a kind of large bowl you use to put stuff in. With a handle, so you can easily transport this stuff.
bucket is what you fill in water with. it can be used fro so many different things
There can be a bucket list of things you would want to do as well. however that bucket will keep getting filled every now and then. keeping the bucket half full is always so important
She wept what felt like buckets of tears that night. It was just so stressful.
She blamed herself for not doing the revision, but nothing could be done now that it was the day before the exam. She sighed and wiped away her tears.
It would all come together. It had to. She just needed to work harder.
a bucket is an empty space, just waiting to be filled up. a bucket; a willing mind, ready to learn. a bucket; a word, waiting to be spoken. a bucket; a thought, sparking into an idea.
The water dripped from the ceiling with rhythmless persistence, the poor bucket trying so hard to catch every falling droplet. Mouth open, arms open, filling slowly with the burden of the builder’s negligence.
Eyes to the sky, what the bucket had failed to notice was his own split, his own splinter; his own mess pooling beneath him, soaking into the carpet below.
I picked up the bucket full of water and spun it around in a circle really fast. “See?” I giggled. “Gravity makes everything stick together, just like you and me.” But he couldn’t hear my true thoughts… Thank the heavens.
I have a bucket, it was given to me by my ex’s mother. Surprisingly I cherish the thing, I really like it. We recently used it to store about 400 water balloons, surprisingly heavy.
it was alone, and it was waiting. thats what i noticed second.
and for some reason that bothered me. not that it was a particular shade of vermillion or that the sunlight flickered off it a certain way at a slant, but that it was waiting.
The bucket stood against the wall, dripping with water, standing, in contrast to its surroundings, who knew that a bucket would be beautiful.
Goes to show how anything can be beautiful, with imagination with a creative mind.
For once I have a place to keep everything. Never mind that there is a hole in the bucket and some stuff drains out. At least it keeps the load lighter. However I am compelled to keep putting stuff in the bucket; even stuff that I already put there, or I think I did.
As I passed along the sidewalk, I glimpsed a rickety old man staring into dead space, just as if no crowd walked in front of him. I stopped, looked at him, and scrutinized him up and down. He looked as if he was a fisherman, judging from the buckets of smelly fish scattered around him and the fishing supplies behind him.
However, what struck me was that he seemed as if he was lost in a daydream, forever trapped in some sort of hazy reality.
I was about to speak when his skeletal hand grabbed my arm. Startled, I dropped the notebook I had in my hand as he whispered, his iron hand still clamped on me.
“Help me.”
The bucket, sitting alone, near the wall. Empty, raindrops slowly dripping, but with a rhythm. smooth, dependable rhythm.
Laura thought the drops were soothing, with a reason to stay and stare, for hours on end in the rain. It calmed her while she thought about her past, she thought about what is happening and what happens next.
I’d talk about a bucket full of tears but I’ve grown tired of being sad all the time. You’re the only person who has ever affected me this way and its got to stop. I’m happy, I’m complete. You talking to me would be grand but you not talking to me would be just fine. I’ll just let fate decide.
A bucket with holes in it is almost useless unless watering flowers on a path as you walk. A full one needs a companion for balance and an empty one longs to be filled. The end
as a little girl, i loved to play in the mud. My favourite thing to do was make mud pies1 and one day i found this bucket which my perfect companion while i was baking these earthy mounds of goodness that used to always put a smile on my face.
there’s a hole in the bucket. a big, fat, stinking hole. it was put there by someone else and i had to deal with it. it was to become the story of my life. perhaps, even, the story of your life too.
money finance happiness i have a bucket blue purple bucket nice things happy be don’t worry yay hello i have money bank loan loans i don’t take loans i have a lot of loans
i like to take a bucket and spade to the seaside. preferably a big spade, for digging big moats and building big sandcastles, we have a bucket which is yellow I think I need to get a new one for our holiday becv=se the handle’s broken. we like to cellect hermit crabs too.
List! things on mine;
Go to the top of the Effiel Tower
Sky dive
got to all London attractions
go to Oz
cook in a restaurant
have a successful business
raise a family
watch the sunrise on a beach
go camping
i collected a bucket of water from the river.
Then I pour the water into the drum. The drum was full of fresh water that i collected. I use the water for washing
A bucket of memories. That’s what my mind feels like sometimes. Just stuff and stuff and more stuff, slimy and dirty and slippery, all crammed together in a little space, with no choice but to sit there in my head and never go away. If you put old trash in a bucket and eave it by the back door, it won’t disappear. It’ll just sit there, for months, getting smellier and more unpleasant to deal with every day you choose to ignore it. That’s what the things in my brain are like. They can’t simply go away, leave, hide in some forgotten corner. Everything always has to float back up.
bucket, sitting empty in the sun.
bucket, swung up by joyful, tiny, life-filled hands.
bucket, filled with life-giving water.
bucket, poured on the dirt, on tender green plants.
bucket, swung down on the ground.
bucket, a carrier of life-giving food.
A bucket, commonly seen as something very utilitarian, very practical has permeated our lives in ways we can never imagine. Could you imagine life without buckets? No. They are so much more useful and precious than so many other things, and yet their value pass us by every time.
bucketful, clean, bucket of water, bucket of vegetables, wooden, dirty, bucket of sand
FOOD! nyahaha, bucket meal, chicken preferably.
Drip drip. The water falls into the bucket. Achingly slow, teasing. Taunting. I stood. Mouth dry. Waiting. Anxious. I stood. Drip drip.
this is unfair. i was only aware that the timer is on just now. :| how awkward. anyways, bucket ba/?1!!?
i have a bucket of thoughts attached to feelings that i would like to pour on you. a bucket of desires which i have to let free, a bucket of unsettling longing, a bucket of giving.
Bucket rhymes with “bakit”, which means “why” in Tagalog. That’s kinda why it’s used in an advertisement with ice BUCKETS and asking BAKIT you should buy it.
i see that buckets are made for holding but what if they are made for emptying. what if i took all the contents in my heart, the icky kind, and emptied it on the ground. i wouldn’t want my bucket to hold it forever. my bucket is master emptier. it empties all things.
buckets have a lot of water in them. that’s stupid because not all of them do. i don’t know. i think of red and sand when i think of buckets. it would suck if they all had holes in them. then there would be no purpose. who really uses buckets? i don’t they’re dumb objects. ha.
bucket man is awesome. he doesn’t do much, but everyone’s eternally grateful for him, even though the security man always does the saving. and bucket man is awesome because he’s an ordinary guy
empty yet full
half empty?
children laughing and mother’s crying.
is it a hat or a tool?
do you fill it
do i fill it
does it fulfill me?
bucket for you, bucket for tea
i was waiting for you
you didn’t come
you promised me forever
now im alone
now im sad
now im crying
holding a bucket, full of tears
Pass the buck…the buck stops here…but the buck never seems to stop in our society anymore. There is always someone else that can be left holding the buck. What happened to personal responsibility?
Drip. Drip… Did it stop? Drip. Drip. She picked herself off the bed and sighed. ‘Nope,’ she said as she glanced over at the bucket at the brink of overflowing with rain.
A bucket is one of the simplest things in the Universe. It’s a kind of large bowl you use to put stuff in. With a handle, so you can easily transport this stuff.
bucket is what you fill in water with. it can be used fro so many different things
There can be a bucket list of things you would want to do as well. however that bucket will keep getting filled every now and then. keeping the bucket half full is always so important
She wept what felt like buckets of tears that night. It was just so stressful.
She blamed herself for not doing the revision, but nothing could be done now that it was the day before the exam. She sighed and wiped away her tears.
It would all come together. It had to. She just needed to work harder.
a bucket is an empty space, just waiting to be filled up. a bucket; a willing mind, ready to learn. a bucket; a word, waiting to be spoken. a bucket; a thought, sparking into an idea.
The water dripped from the ceiling with rhythmless persistence, the poor bucket trying so hard to catch every falling droplet. Mouth open, arms open, filling slowly with the burden of the builder’s negligence.
Eyes to the sky, what the bucket had failed to notice was his own split, his own splinter; his own mess pooling beneath him, soaking into the carpet below.
I picked up the bucket full of water and spun it around in a circle really fast. “See?” I giggled. “Gravity makes everything stick together, just like you and me.” But he couldn’t hear my true thoughts… Thank the heavens.
I have a bucket, it was given to me by my ex’s mother. Surprisingly I cherish the thing, I really like it. We recently used it to store about 400 water balloons, surprisingly heavy.
it was red and shiny, thats what i noticed first.
it was alone, and it was waiting. thats what i noticed second.
and for some reason that bothered me. not that it was a particular shade of vermillion or that the sunlight flickered off it a certain way at a slant, but that it was waiting.
what for?
The bucket stood against the wall, dripping with water, standing, in contrast to its surroundings, who knew that a bucket would be beautiful.
Goes to show how anything can be beautiful, with imagination with a creative mind.
For once I have a place to keep everything. Never mind that there is a hole in the bucket and some stuff drains out. At least it keeps the load lighter. However I am compelled to keep putting stuff in the bucket; even stuff that I already put there, or I think I did.
As I passed along the sidewalk, I glimpsed a rickety old man staring into dead space, just as if no crowd walked in front of him. I stopped, looked at him, and scrutinized him up and down. He looked as if he was a fisherman, judging from the buckets of smelly fish scattered around him and the fishing supplies behind him.
However, what struck me was that he seemed as if he was lost in a daydream, forever trapped in some sort of hazy reality.
I was about to speak when his skeletal hand grabbed my arm. Startled, I dropped the notebook I had in my hand as he whispered, his iron hand still clamped on me.
“Help me.”
The bucket, sitting alone, near the wall. Empty, raindrops slowly dripping, but with a rhythm. smooth, dependable rhythm.
Laura thought the drops were soothing, with a reason to stay and stare, for hours on end in the rain. It calmed her while she thought about her past, she thought about what is happening and what happens next.
“Put a bucket on your head, it would still be prettier than your face.” yelled one of my bullies. I kept walking, ignoring him.
Bucket, makes me think of the movie bucket list with Morgan freeman. I’ve always loved him and his movies. I wish I could just hug him.
I’d talk about a bucket full of tears but I’ve grown tired of being sad all the time. You’re the only person who has ever affected me this way and its got to stop. I’m happy, I’m complete. You talking to me would be grand but you not talking to me would be just fine. I’ll just let fate decide.
The bucket was heavy so she set it down, arms aching. She’d rest for a minute then continue.
A bucket with holes in it is almost useless unless watering flowers on a path as you walk. A full one needs a companion for balance and an empty one longs to be filled. The end
today I remembered that my bucket list is another reason to live, something to strive for.
as a little girl, i loved to play in the mud. My favourite thing to do was make mud pies1 and one day i found this bucket which my perfect companion while i was baking these earthy mounds of goodness that used to always put a smile on my face.
there’s a hole in the bucket. a big, fat, stinking hole. it was put there by someone else and i had to deal with it. it was to become the story of my life. perhaps, even, the story of your life too.
money finance happiness i have a bucket blue purple bucket nice things happy be don’t worry yay hello i have money bank loan loans i don’t take loans i have a lot of loans