Dock, hm? Water under teh dock brings fish and plant life to my sight. Does the wind ripple my thoughts as it ripples your surface? I ask myself what it would be like to swim freely with gills as my breathing apparatus. Would I miss my land?
a dock is something that boats can be tied to. i think they are pretty useless because there could just be places to tie that docks on land but i guess if you are rich enough to have a boat than you can be rich enough to take up part of the ocean with a piece of wood to dock your boat on. dock is also what you use to describe what you do on the dock. its wierd it is a verb to describe how to use the noun. i wonder if there are any other words that are like that.
the girl looked at the sky with a glimmer in her eyes because the way that teh earth spins is enough to make your breath smell like honey and the dock of her tongue could make a thousand boats sway themselves to sleep at the shore of her dreams. i can only hope that she wanted everything then because now the world is cold and dark and nothing remains as it was–when things were ok to be alone and happy. now you stare at me with the eyes of a child and ask what it means to be a woman and i see your smile.
dock, bleary haze has fallen all over you,
the perspectival slabs i always see are gone,
and im full of this fear that should i walk
out onto your weather-beaten boards
things truly fade
and i will disappear too.
sitting alone
wishing, hoping for
nothing more than a cool breeze to pass by
whispering listlessly
at the crickets and palm fronds and
crescent moon, glowing
ever so deliciously.
seals. one of my favorite spots in san francisco. pier 39, below the dock, behind all the shops, you find seals that are gawked at by strangers, visitors, neighbors, friends. you watch them sleep with amazement, wondering what they dream of, if they are cold and where they are going next. they are beautiful creatures with kind eyes.
the dock at the end of the harbor is the place it happened. i wont get into too much detail because not only will it make you think less of me but it also might make you think highly of me. lets just say that we both did things we had never done before. my father and i caught the biggest trout possible. i had never seen anything so big in my life. even though it was definilty a prize winner we ended up gutting it right there, at the dock.
It is a long walk to the end of the dock, she thinks to herself.
It is also a very, very long jump from the the dock to the water.
She takes a breathe.
there is no time to think of all the places i would go were i only standing on a dock with a boat.
there are times when i think i would only stay just off coast, in case my mother was calling for me.
Sitting on the dock of the bay
watching my time go away…
Sitting on the dock of the bay
wasting time
Headed to the frisco bay
found I had nothing to live for
as I had thrown everything away
chasing after some dream I had
of welcome and friendship
that didn’t exist…or at least
what I hadn’t found…
by the docks there are things that shouldnt be done. shouldnt be said but are. she stands there in the biting wind just to make ends meet. but she doesnt want to be there. on the docks. I want to help. I want to make it right, but i cant. i just cant
The salty sea lapps up agains the old time worn dock. I just set at the end, absentmindedly swinging my feet over the churning water. I watch as the white cotton ball cloulds drift by. In the distance a storm is brewing, its not bad…just change. The smooth wood underneath me shifts in the wind creaking and moaning the whole time. The sea just gazes back at me
The iPod dock frequents more and more christmas trees than I care to think about. All carefully wrapped and stored months in advance. New models constantly available although often in short supply. Our society is materialistic with the iPod left as the epitome of hip, trendy, and tech savy consumer choice.
All I can think about when I see dock is my computer dock, my iphone dock, and the dock I used to jump off of as a kid. Three docks, three great thing. To me the all bring fun and good times. I’m not sure what else to write, but I can tell you that I usually enjoy docks.
i sit at the dock and let my feet drift with the water. i became liquid with you and we mixed together like oil and water. not well. i’m separating as you evaporate your love notes and bittersweet tears. break apart my memories.
She took a dock in pay to work for a set of bosses who understood her. Who knew her name for goodness sakes. No, I’m not a customer, she’d say, I work for you. She wouldn’t have to do that any more. She also wouldn’t get to watch cable any more, but the trade off seemed worth it.
Dock me to the shore, let me off. I’ve got a wicked case of Pavlove. Taught how to love by a strict machine that could care less about me, held tight by a kid weened by romance and happily ever afters and jaded from past lives long since past.
there once was one of these in my neigborhood. it was by the lake. there were alligators around it. so we werent allowed to swim near it. well my mom didnt want me to. but we did anyway. athena and i. and the other neighborhood kids. we also dug up clay. there.
Dock? Like a boat dock? This is kind of stressful, you know. Giving me one minute to write about one word, and I happen to get one I can’t really write much about. I guess maybe I could go some where with this, no wait I lied I can’t go anywhere with dock. What the hell, oneword.com, what the hell. Lame!
Dock your ship at the harbor. I know you like your freedom, but please, give me just a moment. You can have the open water and ocean breeze. I don’t want to take that away from you. I just want you. Just for a moment. Earth beneath our feet, clouds above our heads. I need to know that you’re real. That we can be real. That I don’t have to constantly glance back at the horizon- hoping to see you.
zomg doctors suck they give me meds that do weird things to me and i’m all itchy with hives and weird things and i’, FAT and it’s their fault and then they poke me with thin gs and want to poke my son with things and they’re weird. even tho you probably meant the thing that boats go to not docs. weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
i was sitting on the dock on the bay of the ocean and he was standing on the other said i mean talk about gorgeous anyway he was waving i didnt know to who though and then he said come over here i was like how and he was like swim but i couldnt swim across the ocean of course so i said no then he disappeared i should of takin a chance. but i didnt and know ive lost the only true friend that i had all because i was scared to take a risk he was my only chance at true love the apple at the top of the tree i was just too afraid to climb up to the top because i thought i would get hurt
The dock was brightly lit. The wood was faded from long days of sun exposure. The waves lapped against the posts gently…a girl stood at the edge wondering… waiting… wishing. Then she stepped off and knew no more
Dock is the physical location of transaction and transition. it is the gate way from point a to point b. The locale of interest and investment. It is the first interface of man and machine.
the dock was made of wood. It had a few splinters coming out of it. Nothing major, but we never walked on it barefoot. Sometimes, in the summer, when it was hot and sticky out there, we went out in our underwear and our fishing boots and spend all night with our rods in the water. That was, in fact, most of what we did over the summers of our young lives.
The fish were jumping early in the morning and Dad was stretching as he stepped out of his tent. I watched him shuffle down to the edge of the dock, gather his rod and tackle box, and shove out onto the glassy lake. This was the last time I saw him truly happy.
We sat on the dock, like we had been doing for the last 20 years of our lives. Our toes dipping in and out of the luke warm, perfect water. We looked into eachother eyes, not saying anything out loud but saying everything we each needed to hear.
I guess I think of ships although I don’t think I’ve ever really seen one. You see them in movies all the time, usually in a comedic or romantic setting. And at only certain times of the day – sunrise and sunset mostly. For the picture I guess. And because no one else is there at those times except the movie people.
Sitting on the dock of a bay – the guy who sang that song, he died in a plane crash in the ocean before it was even released. Every time I hear him whistling on the radio, I can help but imagine a ghost sitting on the edge of a dock, looking out into the horizon.
I’ll dock your pay, your tail, your time off, you slacker! don’t even think you can dock that wreck here. What do we look like? Next thing you’ll be flushing the heads and it’ll be all over. No safe harbor for you here, pirate. Aaar!
Dock, hm? Water under teh dock brings fish and plant life to my sight. Does the wind ripple my thoughts as it ripples your surface? I ask myself what it would be like to swim freely with gills as my breathing apparatus. Would I miss my land?
a dock is something that boats can be tied to. i think they are pretty useless because there could just be places to tie that docks on land but i guess if you are rich enough to have a boat than you can be rich enough to take up part of the ocean with a piece of wood to dock your boat on. dock is also what you use to describe what you do on the dock. its wierd it is a verb to describe how to use the noun. i wonder if there are any other words that are like that.
the girl looked at the sky with a glimmer in her eyes because the way that teh earth spins is enough to make your breath smell like honey and the dock of her tongue could make a thousand boats sway themselves to sleep at the shore of her dreams. i can only hope that she wanted everything then because now the world is cold and dark and nothing remains as it was–when things were ok to be alone and happy. now you stare at me with the eyes of a child and ask what it means to be a woman and i see your smile.
dock, bleary haze has fallen all over you,
the perspectival slabs i always see are gone,
and im full of this fear that should i walk
out onto your weather-beaten boards
things truly fade
and i will disappear too.
sitting alone
wishing, hoping for
nothing more than a cool breeze to pass by
whispering listlessly
at the crickets and palm fronds and
crescent moon, glowing
ever so deliciously.
seals. one of my favorite spots in san francisco. pier 39, below the dock, behind all the shops, you find seals that are gawked at by strangers, visitors, neighbors, friends. you watch them sleep with amazement, wondering what they dream of, if they are cold and where they are going next. they are beautiful creatures with kind eyes.
the dock at the end of the harbor is the place it happened. i wont get into too much detail because not only will it make you think less of me but it also might make you think highly of me. lets just say that we both did things we had never done before. my father and i caught the biggest trout possible. i had never seen anything so big in my life. even though it was definilty a prize winner we ended up gutting it right there, at the dock.
The dock swayed beneath my feet. The murky water was as cloudy as my thoughts, and the gentle rocking was soothing, like I was back in Mother’s arms.
It is a long walk to the end of the dock, she thinks to herself.
It is also a very, very long jump from the the dock to the water.
She takes a breathe.
And plunges in.
there is no time to think of all the places i would go were i only standing on a dock with a boat.
there are times when i think i would only stay just off coast, in case my mother was calling for me.
I walked out to the dock. I saw a sailing ship. There were nothing but cats in sailor suits aboard the ship.
Sitting on the dock of the bay
watching my time go away…
Sitting on the dock of the bay
wasting time
Headed to the frisco bay
found I had nothing to live for
as I had thrown everything away
chasing after some dream I had
of welcome and friendship
that didn’t exist…or at least
what I hadn’t found…
by the docks there are things that shouldnt be done. shouldnt be said but are. she stands there in the biting wind just to make ends meet. but she doesnt want to be there. on the docks. I want to help. I want to make it right, but i cant. i just cant
The salty sea lapps up agains the old time worn dock. I just set at the end, absentmindedly swinging my feet over the churning water. I watch as the white cotton ball cloulds drift by. In the distance a storm is brewing, its not bad…just change. The smooth wood underneath me shifts in the wind creaking and moaning the whole time. The sea just gazes back at me
dock
dog
wat the hell
i dunno
dickkery dickery dock
hahaha
lame
iknow
bumbo seat still not yet arrive …gaH!
floating
harboring
resting
wooding
nailing
waving
splashing
tying
securing
sitting
jumping
tiding
What’s up,…?
lock me up and throw away the key, baby.
find your harbor, away from the storm, a place to dock, a place to rest. find your haven, away from the turmoil, a place to think, a place to mend.
The iPod dock frequents more and more christmas trees than I care to think about. All carefully wrapped and stored months in advance. New models constantly available although often in short supply. Our society is materialistic with the iPod left as the epitome of hip, trendy, and tech savy consumer choice.
…babble…
Baby, you can dock your ship in my harbor any time you want to.
All I can think about when I see dock is my computer dock, my iphone dock, and the dock I used to jump off of as a kid. Three docks, three great thing. To me the all bring fun and good times. I’m not sure what else to write, but I can tell you that I usually enjoy docks.
i sit at the dock and let my feet drift with the water. i became liquid with you and we mixed together like oil and water. not well. i’m separating as you evaporate your love notes and bittersweet tears. break apart my memories.
She took a dock in pay to work for a set of bosses who understood her. Who knew her name for goodness sakes. No, I’m not a customer, she’d say, I work for you. She wouldn’t have to do that any more. She also wouldn’t get to watch cable any more, but the trade off seemed worth it.
Dock me to the shore, let me off. I’ve got a wicked case of Pavlove. Taught how to love by a strict machine that could care less about me, held tight by a kid weened by romance and happily ever afters and jaded from past lives long since past.
there once was one of these in my neigborhood. it was by the lake. there were alligators around it. so we werent allowed to swim near it. well my mom didnt want me to. but we did anyway. athena and i. and the other neighborhood kids. we also dug up clay. there.
Dock? Like a boat dock? This is kind of stressful, you know. Giving me one minute to write about one word, and I happen to get one I can’t really write much about. I guess maybe I could go some where with this, no wait I lied I can’t go anywhere with dock. What the hell, oneword.com, what the hell. Lame!
as i looked off the dock i realizer how insignificant any one human is in comparison with the sea, and in that moment, i found God.
there was a dock. and on the dock was a boat. Aboat that had been blown on to the dock. Perhaps a strong random wind. Perhaps, a devasting storm?
Dock your ship at the harbor. I know you like your freedom, but please, give me just a moment. You can have the open water and ocean breeze. I don’t want to take that away from you. I just want you. Just for a moment. Earth beneath our feet, clouds above our heads. I need to know that you’re real. That we can be real. That I don’t have to constantly glance back at the horizon- hoping to see you.
zomg doctors suck they give me meds that do weird things to me and i’m all itchy with hives and weird things and i’, FAT and it’s their fault and then they poke me with thin gs and want to poke my son with things and they’re weird. even tho you probably meant the thing that boats go to not docs. weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
i was sitting on the dock on the bay of the ocean and he was standing on the other said i mean talk about gorgeous anyway he was waving i didnt know to who though and then he said come over here i was like how and he was like swim but i couldnt swim across the ocean of course so i said no then he disappeared i should of takin a chance. but i didnt and know ive lost the only true friend that i had all because i was scared to take a risk he was my only chance at true love the apple at the top of the tree i was just too afraid to climb up to the top because i thought i would get hurt
The dock was brightly lit. The wood was faded from long days of sun exposure. The waves lapped against the posts gently…a girl stood at the edge wondering… waiting… wishing. Then she stepped off and knew no more
Dock is the physical location of transaction and transition. it is the gate way from point a to point b. The locale of interest and investment. It is the first interface of man and machine.
the dock was made of wood. It had a few splinters coming out of it. Nothing major, but we never walked on it barefoot. Sometimes, in the summer, when it was hot and sticky out there, we went out in our underwear and our fishing boots and spend all night with our rods in the water. That was, in fact, most of what we did over the summers of our young lives.
The fish were jumping early in the morning and Dad was stretching as he stepped out of his tent. I watched him shuffle down to the edge of the dock, gather his rod and tackle box, and shove out onto the glassy lake. This was the last time I saw him truly happy.
We sat on the dock, like we had been doing for the last 20 years of our lives. Our toes dipping in and out of the luke warm, perfect water. We looked into eachother eyes, not saying anything out loud but saying everything we each needed to hear.
I guess I think of ships although I don’t think I’ve ever really seen one. You see them in movies all the time, usually in a comedic or romantic setting. And at only certain times of the day – sunrise and sunset mostly. For the picture I guess. And because no one else is there at those times except the movie people.
what is a dock actually? I’m confused between a dock and a deck. Oh my! time to improve on my vocabs! How can I dont know the meaning of dock?
Sitting on the dock of a bay – the guy who sang that song, he died in a plane crash in the ocean before it was even released. Every time I hear him whistling on the radio, I can help but imagine a ghost sitting on the edge of a dock, looking out into the horizon.
I’ll dock your pay, your tail, your time off, you slacker! don’t even think you can dock that wreck here. What do we look like? Next thing you’ll be flushing the heads and it’ll be all over. No safe harbor for you here, pirate. Aaar!