“Don’t worry about it, It will be fine”
“No, it won’t. You don’t understand, Jake. I can’t.”
“Yes you can.” I looked up at my brother, pleading with him to understand. He had to jump before it was too late. Before we both ended up in serious trouble.
I peered down to the crashing water below. It was a rather beautiful day: the sun was out and made my skin tingle from the warmth. The air was quite sharp for such a nice day… The leaves rustled behind me… But as I looked down at the rocky depths below, I could almost feel it pulling me down…
As he walks towards the edge he thinks about the choices he’s made. Does he really want to do this? Of course he does. He takes a deep breath, steps forward, and lets himself tumble off the edge.
Cliffs seem to be a few different things.
They could be a beginning to an end or a beginning to a new life.
They could also an end to life in general.
And when authors use them for their stories, everyone seems to hate them but they also love them because it’s fun to envision what happens next.
She fell backwards, and the cliffs never looked this good. At this angle, she could see each and every ledge, the roots that jutted out beneath the soil and rock, the sky that held the clouds so tightly before they slipped from her grasp as rain. But she didn’t see them; she had her eyes closed, all the way as she plummeted to her death into the stormy sea below.
Her demise had nothing poetic about it.
Just another one amidst the millions that had jumped to see the Underworld.
Earth crumbled away from my feet and plummeted into the chasm. I stared over the edge, heart pounding, slowly but surely inching forward, and wondered how long this one would last.
the white cliffs of Dover are far away just now, but I can arrive there, silent and unseen, in an instant. There’s no monetary cost, just a little personal time devoted to evoking visualization of real time events…it’s called memory and that’s what travel experiences are for. To live and relive life on earth in all of its most glorious aspects, to be swept away by stoic beauty and the sheer presence of being.
One time i was at the mountains, and I accidentally fell off of a cliff. I woke up and it was 60 years later, and I was spider-man hanging upside down kissing some chick. Then I realized I didnt have a penis, and I was wondering why I was spider man. Did I become a lesbian? Does this lady know shes kissing a girl? Either way… im a spider now.
He stood on the edge of the cliffs and gazed out at the never ending ocean. It looked like solace, a place he could finally find peace. At the same time it seemed so very far away. The roar of the waves pounding the rock below echoed up to remind him of the last time he stood in this spot. Only then he wasn’t alone, he’d brought her here.
Plink, plink. Josh kicked the little rocks, bouncing them against the “Danger, Stay Back” sign like a tennis player doing drills.
“Josh, come on.” His mom, camera in hand, leaned against their van, door open.
“Beeach,” Josh said, “You said we were going to the beach. Not these cliffs.” He gave a sideways soccer kick and spun and spun and a scree of rocks sailed through the little mouseholes in the fence.
there i stand, and i know you’re waiting, i know you can catch me. i don’t need to stand here anymore, i can just follow you down that trench and it would be okay, it would be fine, i would be some place safe, unspwet by harsh winds, hair swept only by your hands, mind swept by your voice and i would adore every second of it.
but in the end i was too
Cliffs. Tall and wide and rocky. Freckled with bluebirds and lush green mosses. Underneath lay crashing waves, rolling in and out gently like the rocking of a baby’s cot.
Step over the ledge, I
beg you, I
will go with you and
the rocks —
do not let me fall
for I fall
too easily,
catch me and walk
away (don’t let me
jump.)
are high, magestic and monumental with the sound of the sea beneath. it is somethong I have been thinking about for years – to see the white cliffs again. white cliffs made of chalk or something or rocks and rocky islands on Sardinia – these are the pictures evoked by the very eord cliffs.
You stand at the edge of the cliff and look down. The wind tousles your hair, the sun beats the top of your scalp, and virtego rushes from your nose to your forehead. So high above ground, but is there any way but down to go from there?
We are running away between the cliffs that rise up to the sky on either side. Scraping, scratching, running into our sides, constricting the blue expanse above into an ever thinner sliver of hope out of reach.
Upon reaching the top of the cliffs she looked down upon the valley and finally understood why the people of long ago lived here. It was absolutely breathtaking.
High greyish cliffs were exposed all over the shore of irish Moher. Light blue waves were hitting the rocky edges with intense power and constant roaring. Shepherd entered the part of the beach that was normelly closed for ordinary visitors
Jasno stood at the top of a mountain, overlooking a green and jagged landscape from the mountain’s sheer cliff. He was pondering what he was doing there. He wasn’t sure how he’d got up there; he didn’t remember. He was wondering if he had gone up unconsciously, if his recent problems had driven him up there.
The endless sea stretched out before me as I stood high above it. It was a turquoise carpet; my path to another place far away. I reached out to devour the refreshing breeze as it blew away all my distress. I felt myself move with the wind, as if I was on board the great Titanic.
At that very moment, I felt the soft touch of another’s hands. What perfection, I thought.
I have always been afraid of cliffs, that is, untill my mother decided to throw herself of one. Then i realized that it was not cliffs that were dangerous; my mother, my father, myself, everyone i’d evermet, we were the dangerous ones.
It was the most beautiful view I had ever seen. I stood above a clear, blue sea. It was perfection. And as I stood there I wondered how the rest of the world could go on without having seen something like this.
How was there starvation and war and any unhappiness, when I could feel this good because of a place this natural. How could that be?
the cliffs of dooneen were a Boston band i saw play in the clubs several times in my early twenties. the reason I saw them play often is probably because a good friend of mine managed them, not because they blew me away. although, in all honesty, i didn’t pay that much attention to their albums. too bad they weren’t able to sell records. it probably would have ensured the band’s longevity beyond the few years they stayed on the scene.
‘Dance with me, kiss me, or leave.’
‘Those are my choices?’
‘Absolutely. I’m being firm and intolerable now. It’s my new thing.’
‘It’s kind of nice, but I don’t like the options.’
‘Why?’
‘I just want to sit here on the edge and sing with you.’
‘Oh.’
I hate cliffs. But only driving near them. I have an irrational fear of driving off them. It’s funny that I should get this word because it’s the only thing I’m really afraid of. It’s not like it’s going to happen though.
Cliffs can be symbolic for taking that leap of faith you’ve been putting off for so long. It’s in your heart for a reason, JUST DO IT! The fear turns into thrill. Living on the edge is what it’s all about.
She stared down from where she stood, about a foot from the edge of the rocky cliffs. Her heart was racing, she was starting to sweat, and she couldn’t keep still.
It was only natural for her to be scared. She’s never done anything like this before.
She’s heard stories, of course. Mostly distant “Oh, I heard about this person….” or “My cousin told me that one time….”. But all the stories ended the same, no matter who told them.
She glanced back at her friends, a few dozen feet away from her. They were all doing their own business; none of them seemed to mind her.
She made up her mind. Taking a deep breath, she took a few steps back in order to give her a head start. Then closing her eyes and saying a quick prayer, she ran until she was half a foot from the edge, and she jumped.
She screamed as she fell, half laughing hysterically and half sobbing. Then, she hit the clear tropical water, her friends shouting in the background.
cliffs…random word..but are a beauty of nature…never really been to one but would like to….cliffs also remind me of dreams where i saw myself falling down from one..scary one and its a common dream among many people which is strange.
There were cliffs every way, and the scene were stunning. While the plane flew over the canyon, as we travel to our our destination, I could not help wondering about the power and majesty of our God who created all life.
I jump off most cliffs. I don’t look down just go.l It is the only way to force change. I am afraid of heights and the panic that I feel wells up and forces me to act. I am just not that impulsive normally.
(Trigger warning for suicide!!!!!!! Seriously. Possibly skip over this one, if you think you might be bothered.)
There aren’t any less-populated areas around here; this is the most run-down, bare part of the city that he knows about. He’s considered other places, other methods, but the river isn’t a sure thing, and neither can he rely on knives or the hope that he might find his father’s gun. He’s tried pills- years ago now, and it took a while for his mother to stop looking at him like he would shatter at the slightest touch after that attempt grandly failed.
“Maybe the world doesn’t want you to die,” one of his counselors said, and he gave her a B+ for effort. “Maybe it’s so hard because you’re not supposed to go yet.”
If the world wanted him alive, he wouldn’t be here, at the top of the highest building he has access to. It’s no isolated cliff, where he could fall for miles before he hit the ground, but it’s high enough that he knows he can’t survive if he jumps. Jump, just a short fall and then it’s over- and he has the advantage of knowing what comes next, what’s waiting for him.
(It’s better than here. No one will mock him. No one will decide that what he needs is medication, more therapy, no one will cringe away from “that schizophrenic kid,” no one will have to fail to understand him at all anymore. He’ll win the Game, and things will be better. He’ll make them better. He’ll have the power to do so.)
The only thing he needs to do is jump. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. It’s not fear that makes his blood pump hard.
He was standing at the edge of a cliff, faced with a vital decision. He had hated this man for so long, he couldn’t just admit any weakness like some chump who wears his heart on his sleeve.
There is a boonie trail kept open by the grace of the jungle and the resilience of an old fence. A hole just big enough for someone to crawl through is hidden behind a rusted tin sheet and the shadow of an old alom tree. Then, follow the trail about a mile and take the second pig trail on your right marked by three small lati stones. After that, reports vary. Some say it takes an hour, five minutes, or even all day. But, everyone seems to agree it brings you to a very special limestone cove; a perpetually calm sea perfect for diving and fishing with the largest skip-jacks and brightest corals; everything from niyok to dagu line the cliffs with branches so heavy with fruit, they bend to your hand.
“Don’t worry about it, It will be fine”
“No, it won’t. You don’t understand, Jake. I can’t.”
“Yes you can.” I looked up at my brother, pleading with him to understand. He had to jump before it was too late. Before we both ended up in serious trouble.
I peered down to the crashing water below. It was a rather beautiful day: the sun was out and made my skin tingle from the warmth. The air was quite sharp for such a nice day… The leaves rustled behind me… But as I looked down at the rocky depths below, I could almost feel it pulling me down…
As he walks towards the edge he thinks about the choices he’s made. Does he really want to do this? Of course he does. He takes a deep breath, steps forward, and lets himself tumble off the edge.
Cliffs seem to be a few different things.
They could be a beginning to an end or a beginning to a new life.
They could also an end to life in general.
And when authors use them for their stories, everyone seems to hate them but they also love them because it’s fun to envision what happens next.
She fell backwards, and the cliffs never looked this good. At this angle, she could see each and every ledge, the roots that jutted out beneath the soil and rock, the sky that held the clouds so tightly before they slipped from her grasp as rain. But she didn’t see them; she had her eyes closed, all the way as she plummeted to her death into the stormy sea below.
Her demise had nothing poetic about it.
Just another one amidst the millions that had jumped to see the Underworld.
Earth crumbled away from my feet and plummeted into the chasm. I stared over the edge, heart pounding, slowly but surely inching forward, and wondered how long this one would last.
the white cliffs of Dover are far away just now, but I can arrive there, silent and unseen, in an instant. There’s no monetary cost, just a little personal time devoted to evoking visualization of real time events…it’s called memory and that’s what travel experiences are for. To live and relive life on earth in all of its most glorious aspects, to be swept away by stoic beauty and the sheer presence of being.
THE CLIFFS Of knysna are the most beautiful cliffs in the world, so many memories lie here, my birth town, my childhood.
One time i was at the mountains, and I accidentally fell off of a cliff. I woke up and it was 60 years later, and I was spider-man hanging upside down kissing some chick. Then I realized I didnt have a penis, and I was wondering why I was spider man. Did I become a lesbian? Does this lady know shes kissing a girl? Either way… im a spider now.
cliffs are in the seas and mountains they are very hard to deal with them i think its the more harsh thing in the nutare
He stood on the edge of the cliffs and gazed out at the never ending ocean. It looked like solace, a place he could finally find peace. At the same time it seemed so very far away. The roar of the waves pounding the rock below echoed up to remind him of the last time he stood in this spot. Only then he wasn’t alone, he’d brought her here.
Knifelike edge
I walk along the chalky path
Past the blackened gorse
Facing the sea
Breathing in the smell
Of a burning mountain.
Plink, plink. Josh kicked the little rocks, bouncing them against the “Danger, Stay Back” sign like a tennis player doing drills.
“Josh, come on.” His mom, camera in hand, leaned against their van, door open.
“Beeach,” Josh said, “You said we were going to the beach. Not these cliffs.” He gave a sideways soccer kick and spun and spun and a scree of rocks sailed through the little mouseholes in the fence.
there i stand, and i know you’re waiting, i know you can catch me. i don’t need to stand here anymore, i can just follow you down that trench and it would be okay, it would be fine, i would be some place safe, unspwet by harsh winds, hair swept only by your hands, mind swept by your voice and i would adore every second of it.
but in the end i was too
Cliffs. Tall and wide and rocky. Freckled with bluebirds and lush green mosses. Underneath lay crashing waves, rolling in and out gently like the rocking of a baby’s cot.
Step over the ledge, I
beg you, I
will go with you and
the rocks —
do not let me fall
for I fall
too easily,
catch me and walk
away (don’t let me
jump.)
-a.d.r.
Making cliffs out of various prosthetic chins pulled out from surgical bins. Human anatomy can lead us farther than even Kilimanjaro.
are high, magestic and monumental with the sound of the sea beneath. it is somethong I have been thinking about for years – to see the white cliffs again. white cliffs made of chalk or something or rocks and rocky islands on Sardinia – these are the pictures evoked by the very eord cliffs.
You stand at the edge of the cliff and look down. The wind tousles your hair, the sun beats the top of your scalp, and virtego rushes from your nose to your forehead. So high above ground, but is there any way but down to go from there?
We are running away between the cliffs that rise up to the sky on either side. Scraping, scratching, running into our sides, constricting the blue expanse above into an ever thinner sliver of hope out of reach.
Upon reaching the top of the cliffs she looked down upon the valley and finally understood why the people of long ago lived here. It was absolutely breathtaking.
High greyish cliffs were exposed all over the shore of irish Moher. Light blue waves were hitting the rocky edges with intense power and constant roaring. Shepherd entered the part of the beach that was normelly closed for ordinary visitors
Jasno stood at the top of a mountain, overlooking a green and jagged landscape from the mountain’s sheer cliff. He was pondering what he was doing there. He wasn’t sure how he’d got up there; he didn’t remember. He was wondering if he had gone up unconsciously, if his recent problems had driven him up there.
The endless sea stretched out before me as I stood high above it. It was a turquoise carpet; my path to another place far away. I reached out to devour the refreshing breeze as it blew away all my distress. I felt myself move with the wind, as if I was on board the great Titanic.
At that very moment, I felt the soft touch of another’s hands. What perfection, I thought.
I have always been afraid of cliffs, that is, untill my mother decided to throw herself of one. Then i realized that it was not cliffs that were dangerous; my mother, my father, myself, everyone i’d evermet, we were the dangerous ones.
It was the most beautiful view I had ever seen. I stood above a clear, blue sea. It was perfection. And as I stood there I wondered how the rest of the world could go on without having seen something like this.
How was there starvation and war and any unhappiness, when I could feel this good because of a place this natural. How could that be?
Diluting the cliffs edge, blurring the space between my steps and that pier. The edge moves away from me but the edges of my vision is hazy.
the cliffs of dooneen were a Boston band i saw play in the clubs several times in my early twenties. the reason I saw them play often is probably because a good friend of mine managed them, not because they blew me away. although, in all honesty, i didn’t pay that much attention to their albums. too bad they weren’t able to sell records. it probably would have ensured the band’s longevity beyond the few years they stayed on the scene.
‘Dance with me, kiss me, or leave.’
‘Those are my choices?’
‘Absolutely. I’m being firm and intolerable now. It’s my new thing.’
‘It’s kind of nice, but I don’t like the options.’
‘Why?’
‘I just want to sit here on the edge and sing with you.’
‘Oh.’
I hate cliffs. But only driving near them. I have an irrational fear of driving off them. It’s funny that I should get this word because it’s the only thing I’m really afraid of. It’s not like it’s going to happen though.
Cliffs can be symbolic for taking that leap of faith you’ve been putting off for so long. It’s in your heart for a reason, JUST DO IT! The fear turns into thrill. Living on the edge is what it’s all about.
She stared down from where she stood, about a foot from the edge of the rocky cliffs. Her heart was racing, she was starting to sweat, and she couldn’t keep still.
It was only natural for her to be scared. She’s never done anything like this before.
She’s heard stories, of course. Mostly distant “Oh, I heard about this person….” or “My cousin told me that one time….”. But all the stories ended the same, no matter who told them.
She glanced back at her friends, a few dozen feet away from her. They were all doing their own business; none of them seemed to mind her.
She made up her mind. Taking a deep breath, she took a few steps back in order to give her a head start. Then closing her eyes and saying a quick prayer, she ran until she was half a foot from the edge, and she jumped.
She screamed as she fell, half laughing hysterically and half sobbing. Then, she hit the clear tropical water, her friends shouting in the background.
cliffs…random word..but are a beauty of nature…never really been to one but would like to….cliffs also remind me of dreams where i saw myself falling down from one..scary one and its a common dream among many people which is strange.
hanging off of cliffs we seem to be distant from ourselves… no longer us but those in higher places… these faces
There were cliffs every way, and the scene were stunning. While the plane flew over the canyon, as we travel to our our destination, I could not help wondering about the power and majesty of our God who created all life.
I jump off most cliffs. I don’t look down just go.l It is the only way to force change. I am afraid of heights and the panic that I feel wells up and forces me to act. I am just not that impulsive normally.
While the sea battered
While the gulls cawed
While the wind laughed
and the people danced
Cliffs of everywhere
hailed to the sky
reached up tall and
yelled!
(Trigger warning for suicide!!!!!!! Seriously. Possibly skip over this one, if you think you might be bothered.)
There aren’t any less-populated areas around here; this is the most run-down, bare part of the city that he knows about. He’s considered other places, other methods, but the river isn’t a sure thing, and neither can he rely on knives or the hope that he might find his father’s gun. He’s tried pills- years ago now, and it took a while for his mother to stop looking at him like he would shatter at the slightest touch after that attempt grandly failed.
“Maybe the world doesn’t want you to die,” one of his counselors said, and he gave her a B+ for effort. “Maybe it’s so hard because you’re not supposed to go yet.”
If the world wanted him alive, he wouldn’t be here, at the top of the highest building he has access to. It’s no isolated cliff, where he could fall for miles before he hit the ground, but it’s high enough that he knows he can’t survive if he jumps. Jump, just a short fall and then it’s over- and he has the advantage of knowing what comes next, what’s waiting for him.
(It’s better than here. No one will mock him. No one will decide that what he needs is medication, more therapy, no one will cringe away from “that schizophrenic kid,” no one will have to fail to understand him at all anymore. He’ll win the Game, and things will be better. He’ll make them better. He’ll have the power to do so.)
The only thing he needs to do is jump. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. It’s not fear that makes his blood pump hard.
He was standing at the edge of a cliff, faced with a vital decision. He had hated this man for so long, he couldn’t just admit any weakness like some chump who wears his heart on his sleeve.
There is a boonie trail kept open by the grace of the jungle and the resilience of an old fence. A hole just big enough for someone to crawl through is hidden behind a rusted tin sheet and the shadow of an old alom tree. Then, follow the trail about a mile and take the second pig trail on your right marked by three small lati stones. After that, reports vary. Some say it takes an hour, five minutes, or even all day. But, everyone seems to agree it brings you to a very special limestone cove; a perpetually calm sea perfect for diving and fishing with the largest skip-jacks and brightest corals; everything from niyok to dagu line the cliffs with branches so heavy with fruit, they bend to your hand.