Fog is just one of those things. It rolls in without you even knowing it. It is like a blanket covering the earth for a good nap. When you get above the blanket you are able to feel the world sleeping beneath it. When you think it is a cloud below you, you realize that this world really is amazing.
the fog is a kind of cloud that is on the ground and is mostly foung in cold places, y like to see the fog on mi house when i open my window in very fond of the fog on the ground
The transformation can be incredible. I look out the window and see a coating of sun over the green leaves and a perfect reflection of the tree in the pond. With it, the green turns into a different shade and the reflection is not so perfect, but it is still beautiful.
The fog rolled over the streets where the out-of- towners were walking slowly. They were being lead by one of those sidewalk guides, one of those used to the fog. They looked with no special amazement, but rather, just over the fog or through it. They did not notice it slipping under the paint cracked doors of the class rooms or rise higher and higher until the bells were too saturated to sound. These onlookers did nothing but snap pictures whose flashes shone of the fog in attempts to teach at least these cameras what it really meant. The fog did not get the chance to explain itself freely but as one of the younger of the group stepped away from the guided sidewalk tour and into the fogged street it became more understood. The fog can convey its meaning quite well through a pedestrian child being hit by an invisible car. Through his blood which sticks to the fog and holds there for a little while allowing those close to admire and understand.
It came along slowly ….it was thick and ferocious. I could not see past my shoulders. I went out to get the paper and found a hand a severed hand in its place I was petrified!
Fog is a complex thing, as the more of it there is, the less you can see. It’s dangerous, scary, and many people dislike driving through it’s hazardousness.
I personally like fog; it’s dense and concentrated–how it came to be is equally dense, but in a more complicated way.
its misty. and grey. when i was driving down south the dunsborough we saw lots of fog and paul commented how pretty and awesome it looked. i wish i was back down south right now….
ladies.
go little bar go. 60 seconds is a long time……………………………….
Dense white airly billiong clouds over land low and sometimes damp when you walk through the mist it makes your clothes wet and your hair shine but it can also be a problem when driving. I tend to ramble. I thought I read “frog” when I first saw this word. What I really want to do is have a fog machine in the bedroom and play games. Though it would suck if things got ruined.
Sanf Francisco is foggy. It’s a welcome repreive from the heat and sun of the rest of California. When the fog comes in, I feel covered, enveloped. Safe. When the fog clears, I feel exposed, threatened. Fog is reassuring. Comforting. I feel warmer
my head is in a fog. white and dense smothering. can’t see anything but the fog around me. which way is right and which way is wrong. maybe i will just stand still
the fog slowly lifted to reveal a startilng thing: all the villegars were dancing around a hole in to wich the for was dissapearing. as the dance sped up the fog dissapeard more quickly.
A grisly roaming dog crept upon the weary traveler through the encroaching fog. Suddenly, it leapt upon him mauling his guts, and drinking the heady aroma of his blood. An onlooker from a nearby inn laughed maniacally.
As the fog clears you begin to see what’s really there. The haze in his eyes begins to disappear and life itself returns. You begin to see that he never loved you, that he never will. You notice that he doesn’t even feel any remorse for not loving you and for using and hurting you the way he did. You begin to wish the fog had stayed the whole time so you wouldn’t have to know the truth.
I want a new word, fog is too difficult and makes me think of the T.S. Eliot poem, “The love song of Alfred J. Prufrock.” Or it makes me think of some cliche “it was a dark and…foggy night.” Maybe I am in a creative fog right now and can’t see the lighthouse to get out.
Like whipped cream out of a bowl, it rolls into San Francisco, covering the Golden Gate Bridge like a never ending haze. It lifts and we all see the world again.
If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t let the little things like the haziness of the problem set me back. It was like the dew from the shower settling on the mirror. It was only temporary before the place cleared up, and I could see myself again. It was only water particles, particles that left a misty cool against my cheek. I wasn’t scared. I’d gotten this far already.
the air was dusty, due to the fire warnings from the south. it just kind of ate through the air, which wasn’t particularly bad, since it was summer and all. the particles actually collected water and formed giant clouds. it was hard to see through the fog, but it was nice. cool and perfect summer weather.
Fog’s gorgeous. Just like snow, it covers all the familiar sights of your home and breathes new life into them. Whenever I hear the word, I think first of all the controversy over the fug/fog in Harry Potter – and then I remember Carl Sandburg’s poem, about fog as cat’s feet. It’s a little like contentment, covers you slowly.
The fog was coming closer and closer, oh no! It was just like in that movie from the 40’s where it killed everyone, only it was in color. I wasn’t sure what to do. I tried to look for a door to escape. Then, I realized something weird. The big cloud looked like tons of tiny things moving around. And then I noticed what it was: a cloud of fleas!
it’s as if a thick fog had settled into my brain; i just couldn’t seem to stay focused on any of the projects i wanted to finish; my mind was just a big, thick, white blur; no thoughts were forming; it was as if my thoughts were captured in quicksand, unable to move forward
When does the fog lift? Will I ever truly know what the future holds, or even what direction I should begin to travel in? The fog brings questions but very few answers. WIll day break through? I’m okay being in the fog for now.
thick wispy strands of fog trailed behind him, giving him the illusion of continuity ..like a man who was leaving something of himself behind as he moved on with the progress of life..
the gray smoke hides our eyes and the trees on the lake but my bike never lies and we pedal on, we petal on, dying slowly but in an interesting pattern of hope and redemption as the pollen blackens to dust and the water in our vase turns cloudy with whatever it is that makes us regret who we are and could not be soon
out in the cold night i look out over the vast ocean to see a heavy fog coming in fast. A little worried after seeing the movie ‘the fog’ i quickly went inside to watch tv
Walking along
by my lonesome
You’ve always been there
suddenly disappeared
what is this
mystical
ominous
light around me
What is this fog that surrounds me
it holds me back
from the rest of my life
This fog
maybe it’s a sign
maybe it’s what it is
a mystical
ominous light
that surrounds me
holding me back
from the inevitable
the fog swirled around the old, abandoned house. i took a deep breath and gazed up at the predatory building, shivering a little. i knew i had to enter, but the thought filled me with dread. the empty windows glared down upon me like the wide, empty eyes of a skull. the fog swirled around my feet once more, and seemed to thicken as i walked closer.
Hazy, driving difficulty, misty, romantic, bridges, dusk/dawn,
As I was driving home, over the bridge, I noticed the fog surrounding my car. I adjusted my lights and slowed down a bit. I love how the fog feels, misty on my arms, but makes it difficult to breathe. The fog gave a ghostly illusion.
the fuzzy feeling in my head
when i’m not sure what to do,
or where to go or who to turn to.
lost and uncertain.
not knowing what’s coming,
or when it will show up.
fogged up and unclear.
i worry.
Fog is a dangerous thing. You can’t have your brights on in the car if it is foggy out. Also, more of a chance you will hit a deer. The good thing about fog is, delays. Whether it be school or work, everyone can enjoy a day of fog delay in their lives.
Seated at the bank, given cover by the misty fog, she had never looked more like herself. She wasn’t easily found these days, but when she was found, she was never mistaken for anything but what she is.
Fog is just one of those things. It rolls in without you even knowing it. It is like a blanket covering the earth for a good nap. When you get above the blanket you are able to feel the world sleeping beneath it. When you think it is a cloud below you, you realize that this world really is amazing.
the fog is a kind of cloud that is on the ground and is mostly foung in cold places, y like to see the fog on mi house when i open my window in very fond of the fog on the ground
alone, grey cow. absense. blindness. saidness. cold. exciting.
The transformation can be incredible. I look out the window and see a coating of sun over the green leaves and a perfect reflection of the tree in the pond. With it, the green turns into a different shade and the reflection is not so perfect, but it is still beautiful.
The fog rolled over the streets where the out-of- towners were walking slowly. They were being lead by one of those sidewalk guides, one of those used to the fog. They looked with no special amazement, but rather, just over the fog or through it. They did not notice it slipping under the paint cracked doors of the class rooms or rise higher and higher until the bells were too saturated to sound. These onlookers did nothing but snap pictures whose flashes shone of the fog in attempts to teach at least these cameras what it really meant. The fog did not get the chance to explain itself freely but as one of the younger of the group stepped away from the guided sidewalk tour and into the fogged street it became more understood. The fog can convey its meaning quite well through a pedestrian child being hit by an invisible car. Through his blood which sticks to the fog and holds there for a little while allowing those close to admire and understand.
Rolling mist on the bay, shifting like a shadow. Concealing fears and dangers, hiding it’s inhabitants.
love fog. It hides all manner of sins. Or zombies. I have this fixation with zombies lately.
Mostly I love fog because I can hide in it.
It came along slowly ….it was thick and ferocious. I could not see past my shoulders. I went out to get the paper and found a hand a severed hand in its place I was petrified!
Fog is a complex thing, as the more of it there is, the less you can see. It’s dangerous, scary, and many people dislike driving through it’s hazardousness.
I personally like fog; it’s dense and concentrated–how it came to be is equally dense, but in a more complicated way.
its misty. and grey. when i was driving down south the dunsborough we saw lots of fog and paul commented how pretty and awesome it looked. i wish i was back down south right now….
ladies.
go little bar go. 60 seconds is a long time……………………………….
Dense white airly billiong clouds over land low and sometimes damp when you walk through the mist it makes your clothes wet and your hair shine but it can also be a problem when driving. I tend to ramble. I thought I read “frog” when I first saw this word. What I really want to do is have a fog machine in the bedroom and play games. Though it would suck if things got ruined.
Sanf Francisco is foggy. It’s a welcome repreive from the heat and sun of the rest of California. When the fog comes in, I feel covered, enveloped. Safe. When the fog clears, I feel exposed, threatened. Fog is reassuring. Comforting. I feel warmer
my head is in a fog. white and dense smothering. can’t see anything but the fog around me. which way is right and which way is wrong. maybe i will just stand still
the fog slowly lifted to reveal a startilng thing: all the villegars were dancing around a hole in to wich the for was dissapearing. as the dance sped up the fog dissapeard more quickly.
A grisly roaming dog crept upon the weary traveler through the encroaching fog. Suddenly, it leapt upon him mauling his guts, and drinking the heady aroma of his blood. An onlooker from a nearby inn laughed maniacally.
As the fog clears you begin to see what’s really there. The haze in his eyes begins to disappear and life itself returns. You begin to see that he never loved you, that he never will. You notice that he doesn’t even feel any remorse for not loving you and for using and hurting you the way he did. You begin to wish the fog had stayed the whole time so you wouldn’t have to know the truth.
I want a new word, fog is too difficult and makes me think of the T.S. Eliot poem, “The love song of Alfred J. Prufrock.” Or it makes me think of some cliche “it was a dark and…foggy night.” Maybe I am in a creative fog right now and can’t see the lighthouse to get out.
Like whipped cream out of a bowl, it rolls into San Francisco, covering the Golden Gate Bridge like a never ending haze. It lifts and we all see the world again.
Peripherals are acting up again. Shapes bend and colors blend, smoothing textures into one flowing, iridescent, asphyxiating fog.
If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t let the little things like the haziness of the problem set me back. It was like the dew from the shower settling on the mirror. It was only temporary before the place cleared up, and I could see myself again. It was only water particles, particles that left a misty cool against my cheek. I wasn’t scared. I’d gotten this far already.
the air was dusty, due to the fire warnings from the south. it just kind of ate through the air, which wasn’t particularly bad, since it was summer and all. the particles actually collected water and formed giant clouds. it was hard to see through the fog, but it was nice. cool and perfect summer weather.
Fog’s gorgeous. Just like snow, it covers all the familiar sights of your home and breathes new life into them. Whenever I hear the word, I think first of all the controversy over the fug/fog in Harry Potter – and then I remember Carl Sandburg’s poem, about fog as cat’s feet. It’s a little like contentment, covers you slowly.
The fog was coming closer and closer, oh no! It was just like in that movie from the 40’s where it killed everyone, only it was in color. I wasn’t sure what to do. I tried to look for a door to escape. Then, I realized something weird. The big cloud looked like tons of tiny things moving around. And then I noticed what it was: a cloud of fleas!
Take out the windshield
wipers and feel
Like you can see farther than when there was blue
ahead and above
Take in the wet and breath it back
Its longer and farther than the other roads you know
My mind is in a fog.
You’re the only light guiding my way.
it’s as if a thick fog had settled into my brain; i just couldn’t seem to stay focused on any of the projects i wanted to finish; my mind was just a big, thick, white blur; no thoughts were forming; it was as if my thoughts were captured in quicksand, unable to move forward
When does the fog lift? Will I ever truly know what the future holds, or even what direction I should begin to travel in? The fog brings questions but very few answers. WIll day break through? I’m okay being in the fog for now.
thick wispy strands of fog trailed behind him, giving him the illusion of continuity ..like a man who was leaving something of himself behind as he moved on with the progress of life..
the gray smoke hides our eyes and the trees on the lake but my bike never lies and we pedal on, we petal on, dying slowly but in an interesting pattern of hope and redemption as the pollen blackens to dust and the water in our vase turns cloudy with whatever it is that makes us regret who we are and could not be soon
out in the cold night i look out over the vast ocean to see a heavy fog coming in fast. A little worried after seeing the movie ‘the fog’ i quickly went inside to watch tv
something to see through and lost I am but sun shining will bring new sights and a new day
Coffee might help with this vision, sleep and a warm wash cloth.
And as always, what comes out of the fog might be the thing you’ve been looking for.
Walking along
by my lonesome
You’ve always been there
suddenly disappeared
what is this
mystical
ominous
light around me
What is this fog that surrounds me
it holds me back
from the rest of my life
This fog
maybe it’s a sign
maybe it’s what it is
a mystical
ominous light
that surrounds me
holding me back
from the inevitable
the fog swirled around the old, abandoned house. i took a deep breath and gazed up at the predatory building, shivering a little. i knew i had to enter, but the thought filled me with dread. the empty windows glared down upon me like the wide, empty eyes of a skull. the fog swirled around my feet once more, and seemed to thicken as i walked closer.
Hazy, driving difficulty, misty, romantic, bridges, dusk/dawn,
As I was driving home, over the bridge, I noticed the fog surrounding my car. I adjusted my lights and slowed down a bit. I love how the fog feels, misty on my arms, but makes it difficult to breathe. The fog gave a ghostly illusion.
Ruins a good day at the beach or the pool! Fog is never welcome in the summer! Although fog is interesting and creates an eerie backdrop…
As I pulled up into the driveway, I realized that I had just traveled over 75 miles in a mental fog!
the fuzzy feeling in my head
when i’m not sure what to do,
or where to go or who to turn to.
lost and uncertain.
not knowing what’s coming,
or when it will show up.
fogged up and unclear.
i worry.
Fog is a dangerous thing. You can’t have your brights on in the car if it is foggy out. Also, more of a chance you will hit a deer. The good thing about fog is, delays. Whether it be school or work, everyone can enjoy a day of fog delay in their lives.
The mist blew in like a cloud of pestilence. Pretty and perilous, silky and smothering. It enveloped the mountain like a movement. The fog came again.
Seated at the bank, given cover by the misty fog, she had never looked more like herself. She wasn’t easily found these days, but when she was found, she was never mistaken for anything but what she is.