Light is something that triumphs always. It is the magical thing that keeps the darkness and nightmares at bay. It is that with which we comfort ourselves. It is something so common and yet absolutely phenomenal that it is a paradox.
the bulb grew up from the ground, ready to become something new. its bulbous head said, hey out there. i’m not done yet. i got some more growing to do and you better take care of me if you want me to do it. the rain came down. the sunlight shone. day after day the plant grew larger and larger. soon it would be something else.
Watch me step outside, kneel down and put my hands in the dirt. Watch me grab that bulb. It’s a perrenial. Watch me place it in the dirt and cover it. What else does it need? Light bulb! Water.
The light bulbs pulsed on and off violently as the moaning zombies consumed their screaming prey. The little girl next to me rocked back and forth crying as my hands firmly cupped her ears. I told myself repeatedly not to look out the window where the bulbs flickering light gave short glimpses of the zombies newest snack who just happened to be my husband and the little girls father. I should have never left him behind. I should have dragged him away, fought the zombies, tried something… should have. could have. but didn’t. And now I was all alone with my daughter in a world consumed by zombies.
enlightening bright Thomas Alva Edison yellow doesn’t save light source of many jokes electricity a solar bulb would be preferred I can study in it’s light useful
they are out by my birthday in the cold dark time of year most people hate. They spring up in hidden corners or under the shadows of hedges and they cluster together either for warmth or in companionship, they are clean white pure and innocent because the frosts have purified everything and made the world pristine and new….. snowdrops
bulbs are both a type of technology used to light and area and a type of seed for a flower. this is quite interesting as it is slightly ironic. Irony is quite fun. But i think that the fact that technology is helping us to replace nature is such bittersweet irony that we cannot ignore it or laugh at it. PLease don’t think that I am against technology. I love technology but everything must come in moderation and so we must not allow for mistakes to be made. Just a thought.
The light bulb swung slowly at the end of its chain, a quiet clink echoing in the small empty room when the glass connected with the metal pull that switch it on. The light was on now, dim and dirty, with one improbable fly caught in the inside of the glass, and a faded set of fingerprint smeared into grim on the bottom.
Bulbs are relentlessly shining in my face. That mechanical effulgence gently warms a slumbering cheek or a drowsy eye. Lights are the backdrop and the soundtrack to a vapid home life.
A bulb can be a light source or a source of a plant growth. Both ways it’s a source which means it’s a parent of a new life. By feeding the flower or by giving others its warmth and light.
The flicker mystifies me. It’s as if the bulb were truly a reincarnated candle. It’s light dashes from wall to wall and stutters with inconsistent rhythm. I wonder what it would be, to be a bulb, that was once a candle.
Screw out the bulb. See the filament? It’s the reason you can see these words. Where it started. Edison. Thomas Alva Edison. Create. Some thing. That transcends time. Something that leaves room. For innovation.
This could be something which lights up a room or sprouts springtime daffodils out of the dark soil. It could be energy-saving or energy-wasting, you could add -ous onto the end and describe someone portly.
This could be something that lights up a room or sprouts out a beautiful flower, perhaps some springtime daffodills. Lightbulbs get used too much, whatever happened to candles?
I looked above. A shining light bulb blinds my eyes. Even though it brings pain and suffering, the beautiful light stays trapped in my eyes, as if I cannot look away. I look down, and see her face, suddenly, nothing else matters.
there were over forty in the small house. well it wasn’t small but it wasn’t a mansion. the power bill was over four hundred. and who could have guessed about the bulbs that would sprout from the tomato plant. so many new things to find in a house that wasn’t ours before.
The light bulb in the bedroom had blowned and the room was in darkness. I stumbled as I tried to make my way out of the burning house in time before it started to collapsed.
I walked out of my bedroom this morning only to step on a broken light bulb that left my foot in shambles. Later that day after the wound had stopped bleeding…a turtle came out of it. What the fuck?
A flickering light bulb in a cellar that stank of rat shit was the only bright thing in the prisoner’s life. Literally and figuratively. The prisoner had lost hope that he would be let out, and he had forgotten all his good memories due to being trapped in the same stinking cellar every fucking day.
bulbs are planted in the fall if i’m not mistaken and bloom in the spring, between those two seasons there is a break in which nothing can be seen above the surface, come winter usually you see cute green sprouts that turn into lovely daffodils and brighten poeple days, i like daffodils, always have, since i was a little girl
Every year, the perennials would all come in at about the same time, but they would only last a week or two tops. It basically summarized my view of beauty- the ephemerality of it and how it can rejuvenate.
That last bulb you planted blooms every spring. It stands out from the rows of daffodils competing for attention. The bright red tulip with yellow streaks sugggests the time we spent in Spain travelling around Barcelona’s Ramblas and spotting the transvestites.
Light is something that triumphs always. It is the magical thing that keeps the darkness and nightmares at bay. It is that with which we comfort ourselves. It is something so common and yet absolutely phenomenal that it is a paradox.
the bulb grew up from the ground, ready to become something new. its bulbous head said, hey out there. i’m not done yet. i got some more growing to do and you better take care of me if you want me to do it. the rain came down. the sunlight shone. day after day the plant grew larger and larger. soon it would be something else.
Watch me step outside, kneel down and put my hands in the dirt. Watch me grab that bulb. It’s a perrenial. Watch me place it in the dirt and cover it. What else does it need? Light bulb! Water.
light penetrates through a glass sphere illuminating the world as we see it unfolding around us.
there is a bulb
of smooth,
refined venom
cratered in your
tongue
and it cleans
my hands
of feeling anything
but you.
The light bulbs pulsed on and off violently as the moaning zombies consumed their screaming prey. The little girl next to me rocked back and forth crying as my hands firmly cupped her ears. I told myself repeatedly not to look out the window where the bulbs flickering light gave short glimpses of the zombies newest snack who just happened to be my husband and the little girls father. I should have never left him behind. I should have dragged him away, fought the zombies, tried something… should have. could have. but didn’t. And now I was all alone with my daughter in a world consumed by zombies.
enlightening bright Thomas Alva Edison yellow doesn’t save light source of many jokes electricity a solar bulb would be preferred I can study in it’s light useful
they are out by my birthday in the cold dark time of year most people hate. They spring up in hidden corners or under the shadows of hedges and they cluster together either for warmth or in companionship, they are clean white pure and innocent because the frosts have purified everything and made the world pristine and new….. snowdrops
The bulb hung from its fraying cord. It emitted a butter-yellow light that dripped thick on the damp pale green walls.
bulbs are both a type of technology used to light and area and a type of seed for a flower. this is quite interesting as it is slightly ironic. Irony is quite fun. But i think that the fact that technology is helping us to replace nature is such bittersweet irony that we cannot ignore it or laugh at it. PLease don’t think that I am against technology. I love technology but everything must come in moderation and so we must not allow for mistakes to be made. Just a thought.
The light bulb swung slowly at the end of its chain, a quiet clink echoing in the small empty room when the glass connected with the metal pull that switch it on. The light was on now, dim and dirty, with one improbable fly caught in the inside of the glass, and a faded set of fingerprint smeared into grim on the bottom.
Bulbs are relentlessly shining in my face. That mechanical effulgence gently warms a slumbering cheek or a drowsy eye. Lights are the backdrop and the soundtrack to a vapid home life.
A bulb can be a light source or a source of a plant growth. Both ways it’s a source which means it’s a parent of a new life. By feeding the flower or by giving others its warmth and light.
Bulbs belong in light fittings or are used to grow flowers from. They’re kind of spheres, but one end is usually thinner than the other end.
A lightbulb goes on in the hallway. This is it. They are coming. She shifts her weight and holds her breath. Soon it will be over, she thinks.
the light we have just will be on every where all over the room cozy the music will floow from the speaker th
The flicker mystifies me. It’s as if the bulb were truly a reincarnated candle. It’s light dashes from wall to wall and stutters with inconsistent rhythm. I wonder what it would be, to be a bulb, that was once a candle.
the bulb pulsing underneath the veined, red-licked, point of my beating organ.
I hate light bulbs when I’m with my girlfriend. They ruin the mood!
Screw out the bulb. See the filament? It’s the reason you can see these words. Where it started. Edison. Thomas Alva Edison. Create. Some thing. That transcends time. Something that leaves room. For innovation.
This could be something which lights up a room or sprouts springtime daffodils out of the dark soil. It could be energy-saving or energy-wasting, you could add -ous onto the end and describe someone portly.
Bigger than a seed though the same. All it needs is fertile soil and water
This could be something that lights up a room or sprouts out a beautiful flower, perhaps some springtime daffodills. Lightbulbs get used too much, whatever happened to candles?
Light! Source of light! It symbolizes brightness or positivity. It also symbolizes good idea of a person.
It contains the dna 0f life. All you have to do is water it……oh and plant in fertile soil.
I looked above. A shining light bulb blinds my eyes. Even though it brings pain and suffering, the beautiful light stays trapped in my eyes, as if I cannot look away. I look down, and see her face, suddenly, nothing else matters.
flower pretty storage ground winter spring grow tall seasonal small dry die down fertiliser multiply more rot
there were over forty in the small house. well it wasn’t small but it wasn’t a mansion. the power bill was over four hundred. and who could have guessed about the bulbs that would sprout from the tomato plant. so many new things to find in a house that wasn’t ours before.
Something that bids its time. Waiting, waiting. For the perfect moment to arrive and blossom into spring.
A light at the end of the tunnel. A spark along a long winding road. A idea, a innovation. Something which can change things forever.
After a winter of waiting, the hardy bulb sprouts.
The light bulb in the bedroom had blowned and the room was in darkness. I stumbled as I tried to make my way out of the burning house in time before it started to collapsed.
I walked out of my bedroom this morning only to step on a broken light bulb that left my foot in shambles. Later that day after the wound had stopped bleeding…a turtle came out of it. What the fuck?
A flickering light bulb in a cellar that stank of rat shit was the only bright thing in the prisoner’s life. Literally and figuratively. The prisoner had lost hope that he would be let out, and he had forgotten all his good memories due to being trapped in the same stinking cellar every fucking day.
I wanted illumination. I wanted light.
But all I was ever granted was blackness. It was all that I deserved.
bulbs are planted in the fall if i’m not mistaken and bloom in the spring, between those two seasons there is a break in which nothing can be seen above the surface, come winter usually you see cute green sprouts that turn into lovely daffodils and brighten poeple days, i like daffodils, always have, since i was a little girl
a bulb is something that gives us light. it works on electricity. it has a lot of colors. i have a bulb in my house.
bright light you better hide from the flower that grows inside
tender and fragile
the fall brings in the perfect light
Every year, the perennials would all come in at about the same time, but they would only last a week or two tops. It basically summarized my view of beauty- the ephemerality of it and how it can rejuvenate.
That last bulb you planted blooms every spring. It stands out from the rows of daffodils competing for attention. The bright red tulip with yellow streaks sugggests the time we spent in Spain travelling around Barcelona’s Ramblas and spotting the transvestites.