In the middle, like a blossoming rose, just in his touch’s reach. His reach’s touch. The beautiful flowers were none like he had ever seen before. But it was there, placed perfectly in the middle, not a flower petal out of place; their velvety texture was apparent even from where he stood. The crystal of the glass glinted in the morning sun; dew lay on the leaves. Only one word for it: beautiful.
Centerpiece eh?
My centerpiece on my table is just candles. Pretty lame. I’ve seen cooler ones. I wish I could have them. I don’t find any signifigance in centerpieces though. Whatever. ._. And I’m done NOW.
Alas, she took the petals off the rose and pushed them along the table. They felt so soft between her fingers. It made her feel uncomfortable. The situation was too serious for beauty.
She crushed them. Their red left stains on her fingertips.
The ice sculpture was the centerpiece of the event. She looked over one, two, three times. It had to be perfect, or her mother would have a fit. Her cousin ran by, and she had a mini-heart attack. She couldn’t let it break.
the center of one’s universe, the arrangement at holiday that sits between 2 others on the that square, mango wood table. Together at the center but light years apart.
My mother loved decorating for the holidays. I remember her centerpieces were so classy. Around christmas time she would decorate with birch logs which had holes drilled into them. she’d place candles in the holes. Finally, she’d gather pretty balsam boughs around to finish her holiday piece.
the perfect centerpiece? yeah…. where in this miserable world am I supposed to get that? something perfect, untarnished, unscratched? look up. then may be you’ll see it. not here, not with me.
because Cinderella wasted her time going to a stupid ball at midnight, lying and sneaking out, a stranger kissed sleeping beauty and she married him. snow white was a gentle person– who also lived alone with seven men.
so, yes, no one’s perfect. so your center piece can be nobody.
centerpiece of my father’s family room
Fox News
centerpiece of Fox news
Republicans
Centerpiece of my state of being
astounded by what I cannot help but hear
Excuse me, I need to leave the room so I can go in the bedroom and scream!!!!!!
the centerpiece,
is the masterpiece.
the master, is in the center.
piece my life together,
and see the puzzle.
read the mystery,
and solve the problems.
handle issues,
and lose your mind.
At the center of the dinner table lies the vase of flowers that radiates the room and makes it smell so beautiful. This centerpiece is the stereotypical type that may be presented in many movies.
It sits in the middle of the table, perfectly. It doesn’t matter what it is- flowers, a cornucopia, a basket of scented pine-cones, as long as it looks great and makes it feel homey. A centerpiece is something that holds the room together, the essence described in a single object that is then placed on the table.
Personally, I think it’s kind of ridiculous.
Centerpieces are irrelevant. I never understood them, because you can not put a centerpiece on a table, and no one misses it. So why put it there in the first place. Unnecessary.
“No, that’s not right,” she mumbled quietly to herself as she rearranged the flowers. Her mother had offered to help, as did Orana, but the girl refused. She was going to make this herself.
It’s the most hideously garish thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
But she’s sitting across the table from me and as our eyes meet above the neon tangles of it, there’s a challenge in those wickedly dark orbs. She’s daring me, silently, to disapprove of her choice. Daring me to disagree with her. Daring me to prove that I won’t take her and everything that she has to offer.
Begging me, almost, to prove that she is unworthy of the love that I can no longer hold back.
I knew that I was just the side, I was the ugly step-sister, I was the grey frame surrounding a beautiful painting
she on the other hand, she WAS the beautiful painting, she got everything and we all loved her, we loved her despite everything, despite her beauty
so I smiled, because I knew that I wasn’t really jealous. I was just making it up.
Sitting on the periphery, I see it all play out. It’s almost predictable, the way everything fans out and embraces the centerpiece, leads every eye toward the glowing middle and allows us to forget that deep around the edges, in the shadows, true beauty lies in wait.
One year on Christmas Eve my family used a stuffed fox that my dad had killed as our centerpiece. We had put three tables together and there was no room to get around between the chairs and the wall.
There is something about a centerpiece that is certainly festive and joyful. It speaks of the extra care that is makes the meal more than just food. It denotes celebration, joy, family and friends.
The centerpiece of my life, you have become. As sparkly as a diamond, as valued as a family heirloom, and as charming as the night sky speckled with stars. Yet, shall you be polished, or shall I leave you to capture dust? Inevitably, all we are is dust in the wind. So, I shall leave you be, my beautiful little diamond, to remain the center of my life.
the center piece filled the table. the center piece nearly filled the room. i had to bend around it to speak to my sister on the other side of the table. my grandmother seems to always find the craziest decorations for Christmas dinner.
That centerpiece was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. An elf holding a candy cane, okay. I can deal with that. But an elf feeding a candy cane to a cross-eyed reindeer with only one ear and no tail? I couldn’t even finish my pumpkin pie.
Today my stepfather and I cut boughs of red berries to make into a christmas centerpiece. The word brings me back to the days of Home Ec where we had to bring in a vase or a pumpkin or something to shadow over the measly french toast and corn syrup, microwave bacon and mix muffins we prepared as brunch for finals.
Who would think to put pink dyed human hair with blue carnations? She registered the surprise on my face and gleefully told me it could be worn as a head piece to the ceremony. All I could think was how much times have changed.
I am the centerpiece of my own life, my own attentions. I forget sometimes that I am the most important one here. Orchestrating other people’s lives so that they better fit into mine. You can have all the edges, but without the heart in the middle your picture doesn’t come alive.
I looked at the beautiful centerpiece in front of me. I was at my grandma’s for thanksgiving and i was admiring that centerpiece. It was three individual bowls with three orange candles in it. Walnuts surrounded the candles and leaves cluttered around the bowls. I smelled the sweet smell of freshly baked pie in front of me. It was cherry. Yum. My favorite kind.
I don’t particularly enjoy attention. The way the spotlight shines only brings out my flaws and insecurities, somehow, it always fails to show me how I can shine the brightest. I was never meant for the life of a star, no matter how many times I pretend in my dreams I know I’d rather touch the moon.
Is the part of the action that draws my eye and should be the stand out part of any presentation.
The overall effect is contributed to the presentation by this marvel
a piece of a center that can symbolize something that’s very important to you or somebody else and is used as a word to describe something that means the most of something. (Example: My friends and family are the centerpiece to my life.)
It took hours; her careful eyes gauged every last detail perfectly. I know she tries, she tries real hard; maybe just not in the way most people would expect.
Maybe it didn’t matter for the lack of a thanksgiving meal, or the not-so spotless house.
She tries real hard. And the centerpiece was perfect; yes, her obsessive-compulsive eyes made sure of it.
the middle of my emotion
the center of my soul
the start of my feelings
from the inner part of my own
life in which i’ve been living
too far and wide for you to see
without your mind inside me
you’ll never ever be
the person who owns me
the rights to what i’ve got
the love that is inside me
that keeps you up all night
the smile that lights your life
and the world better than you ever knew
it can be the beginning of your happiness
if you take the time to look beyond you
In the middle, like a blossoming rose, just in his touch’s reach. His reach’s touch. The beautiful flowers were none like he had ever seen before. But it was there, placed perfectly in the middle, not a flower petal out of place; their velvety texture was apparent even from where he stood. The crystal of the glass glinted in the morning sun; dew lay on the leaves. Only one word for it: beautiful.
Centerpiece eh?
My centerpiece on my table is just candles. Pretty lame. I’ve seen cooler ones. I wish I could have them. I don’t find any signifigance in centerpieces though. Whatever. ._. And I’m done NOW.
Alas, she took the petals off the rose and pushed them along the table. They felt so soft between her fingers. It made her feel uncomfortable. The situation was too serious for beauty.
She crushed them. Their red left stains on her fingertips.
The ice sculpture was the centerpiece of the event. She looked over one, two, three times. It had to be perfect, or her mother would have a fit. Her cousin ran by, and she had a mini-heart attack. She couldn’t let it break.
i need flowers. i need christmas. i need to go home.
the center of one’s universe, the arrangement at holiday that sits between 2 others on the that square, mango wood table. Together at the center but light years apart.
My mother loved decorating for the holidays. I remember her centerpieces were so classy. Around christmas time she would decorate with birch logs which had holes drilled into them. she’d place candles in the holes. Finally, she’d gather pretty balsam boughs around to finish her holiday piece.
the perfect centerpiece? yeah…. where in this miserable world am I supposed to get that? something perfect, untarnished, unscratched? look up. then may be you’ll see it. not here, not with me.
because Cinderella wasted her time going to a stupid ball at midnight, lying and sneaking out, a stranger kissed sleeping beauty and she married him. snow white was a gentle person– who also lived alone with seven men.
so, yes, no one’s perfect. so your center piece can be nobody.
centerpiece of my father’s family room
Fox News
centerpiece of Fox news
Republicans
Centerpiece of my state of being
astounded by what I cannot help but hear
Excuse me, I need to leave the room so I can go in the bedroom and scream!!!!!!
The roses in the middle of the banquet table reminds me of the roses my sisters and I pick during warm bright days.
I miss those days and I miss my sisters. I wish that I could see them again.
the centerpiece,
is the masterpiece.
the master, is in the center.
piece my life together,
and see the puzzle.
read the mystery,
and solve the problems.
handle issues,
and lose your mind.
At the center of the dinner table lies the vase of flowers that radiates the room and makes it smell so beautiful. This centerpiece is the stereotypical type that may be presented in many movies.
the centerpiece. The centerpiece of life? or the centerpiece on the table? the centerpiece of a puzzle? In the end , Center is the key word!
It sits in the middle of the table, perfectly. It doesn’t matter what it is- flowers, a cornucopia, a basket of scented pine-cones, as long as it looks great and makes it feel homey. A centerpiece is something that holds the room together, the essence described in a single object that is then placed on the table.
Personally, I think it’s kind of ridiculous.
A center piece askew
Table chipped an cracked
A child longs for days
When it was straight
Centerpieces are irrelevant. I never understood them, because you can not put a centerpiece on a table, and no one misses it. So why put it there in the first place. Unnecessary.
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centepiece
centerpiece
Centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
centerpiece
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centerpiece
“No, that’s not right,” she mumbled quietly to herself as she rearranged the flowers. Her mother had offered to help, as did Orana, but the girl refused. She was going to make this herself.
It’s in the middle of the table.
It’s the most hideously garish thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
But she’s sitting across the table from me and as our eyes meet above the neon tangles of it, there’s a challenge in those wickedly dark orbs. She’s daring me, silently, to disapprove of her choice. Daring me to disagree with her. Daring me to prove that I won’t take her and everything that she has to offer.
Begging me, almost, to prove that she is unworthy of the love that I can no longer hold back.
I knew that I was just the side, I was the ugly step-sister, I was the grey frame surrounding a beautiful painting
she on the other hand, she WAS the beautiful painting, she got everything and we all loved her, we loved her despite everything, despite her beauty
so I smiled, because I knew that I wasn’t really jealous. I was just making it up.
Sitting on the periphery, I see it all play out. It’s almost predictable, the way everything fans out and embraces the centerpiece, leads every eye toward the glowing middle and allows us to forget that deep around the edges, in the shadows, true beauty lies in wait.
i centerpiece is a very important piece to any room, it is kind of the make it or break it the finishing of designing a room.
One year on Christmas Eve my family used a stuffed fox that my dad had killed as our centerpiece. We had put three tables together and there was no room to get around between the chairs and the wall.
There is something about a centerpiece that is certainly festive and joyful. It speaks of the extra care that is makes the meal more than just food. It denotes celebration, joy, family and friends.
The gold centerpiece sat in the middle of the table.
The only thing that stood between us,
was that candleabra with outstreched arms.
Like the blind woman of justice,
or even christs arms.
The centerpiece of my life, you have become. As sparkly as a diamond, as valued as a family heirloom, and as charming as the night sky speckled with stars. Yet, shall you be polished, or shall I leave you to capture dust? Inevitably, all we are is dust in the wind. So, I shall leave you be, my beautiful little diamond, to remain the center of my life.
the center piece filled the table. the center piece nearly filled the room. i had to bend around it to speak to my sister on the other side of the table. my grandmother seems to always find the craziest decorations for Christmas dinner.
That centerpiece was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. An elf holding a candy cane, okay. I can deal with that. But an elf feeding a candy cane to a cross-eyed reindeer with only one ear and no tail? I couldn’t even finish my pumpkin pie.
Today my stepfather and I cut boughs of red berries to make into a christmas centerpiece. The word brings me back to the days of Home Ec where we had to bring in a vase or a pumpkin or something to shadow over the measly french toast and corn syrup, microwave bacon and mix muffins we prepared as brunch for finals.
The centerpiece of my life would be God.
Who would think to put pink dyed human hair with blue carnations? She registered the surprise on my face and gleefully told me it could be worn as a head piece to the ceremony. All I could think was how much times have changed.
I am the centerpiece of my own life, my own attentions. I forget sometimes that I am the most important one here. Orchestrating other people’s lives so that they better fit into mine. You can have all the edges, but without the heart in the middle your picture doesn’t come alive.
I looked at the beautiful centerpiece in front of me. I was at my grandma’s for thanksgiving and i was admiring that centerpiece. It was three individual bowls with three orange candles in it. Walnuts surrounded the candles and leaves cluttered around the bowls. I smelled the sweet smell of freshly baked pie in front of me. It was cherry. Yum. My favorite kind.
She was the centerpiece of his life, how could he continue on? It was all crashing down, and she was gone.
I don’t particularly enjoy attention. The way the spotlight shines only brings out my flaws and insecurities, somehow, it always fails to show me how I can shine the brightest. I was never meant for the life of a star, no matter how many times I pretend in my dreams I know I’d rather touch the moon.
Is the part of the action that draws my eye and should be the stand out part of any presentation.
The overall effect is contributed to the presentation by this marvel
a piece of a center that can symbolize something that’s very important to you or somebody else and is used as a word to describe something that means the most of something. (Example: My friends and family are the centerpiece to my life.)
The centerpiece was beautiful, my mother said.
It took hours; her careful eyes gauged every last detail perfectly. I know she tries, she tries real hard; maybe just not in the way most people would expect.
Maybe it didn’t matter for the lack of a thanksgiving meal, or the not-so spotless house.
She tries real hard. And the centerpiece was perfect; yes, her obsessive-compulsive eyes made sure of it.
It sat tall and mighty among the ashtray and the scattered books on the table. I had to break it.
the middle of my emotion
the center of my soul
the start of my feelings
from the inner part of my own
life in which i’ve been living
too far and wide for you to see
without your mind inside me
you’ll never ever be
the person who owns me
the rights to what i’ve got
the love that is inside me
that keeps you up all night
the smile that lights your life
and the world better than you ever knew
it can be the beginning of your happiness
if you take the time to look beyond you
© LL