The gong sounded and I bowed down with the throng of people around me who also regularly obeyed it’s sound. my knees felt the scratch of the roughness beneath me but they were beginning to callouse.
Asian bell. Loudly rung. sound continues on fluxes. round and multi-color. gong with the wind. last of the mohicans. cherokee. Jeep. cars that killed my brother.
Bang! The resonance lifted like a fog, and the crowd’s gaze shifted to the gong. The man held the hammer in a warrior’s pose, striking fear in the souls of us all.
as we walked into the band room, kelsey immediately went to her favorite instrument, the gong. No DONT bordy called out but she couldnt hear him over the roar of the gong.
I do not know what the word gong means, but here goes…a gong is a peaceful instrument that makes a loud sound usually used during yoga or another time of rest and relaxation.
A gong sounded behind me, I jumped and turned. Behind me was a tall man with a long coat and dark glasses. I advanced slowly towards him, he smiled shp pointed teeth, suddenly I was very scared.
a gong is one of the rarer instruments in our band class. we only used it for a few asain-sounding songs, not very often. they sound like ancient china (but i doubt anyone knows what that really sounds like).
I once played in the marching pit of my high school marching band. There was a gong in the pit and I was the one who had to hit it with the mallet during a solo section of our “Pirates of the Carribean” themed music. It was intense and an amazing new experience. I loved it.
gong time is up. gong take off your clothes. gong tell your secret. gong this is you. gong and we are one. gong will never end. gong the fish flies. gong. the meat spoils. gong tomorrow ends. gong…
I paused at a faux bronze gong. A small cushioned mallet laid next to it; I picked it up and tapped lightly on its dusty surface. The man behind the counter glared at me disapprovingly. “Are you going to buy that?”
But of course I wasn’t and he knew that. I had come in here every week since I started college here three years ago, and I hadn’t bought a thing yet. I loved the flow of the antiques store. Some of the items had been in the same place on the shelf since my first unplanned visit in September of my freshman year.
I had wandered in on a whim with my friend Kelsie, who grew up here. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in there,” she mused as we walked. Her former tourist guide tone had given way to a bit of puzzlement. “I’ve never noticed it, but you know, from the looks of it, it’s been there awhile.”
“Then let’s go in and check it out. I’m always up for a little adventure with my amazing host,” I replied.
And the loudest sound you’ll ever hear is the sound of an ending that you did not expect. All you will feel is the undesirable and unsettling knowledge that you are standing where you were, but not where you’re supposed to be.
at first i thought of ‘bong’ but gong. hmm, i think of a big crashing sound. and then i think of my friend joey who is a music major. he doesnt play a gong, but he orchestrates so i imagine somewhere he’d throw in a gong. for fun.
I don;t know what that is but i think it is the sound of the bell. actually it reminds me of chinese/japanese sports or even sumo restling when a round finishes. We don’t have this sound in my language
the gong just echoed now and forever but the forever that you ask for is too easy and too precious to give up. stop asking. stop answering. kiss me or stop kissing me. the gong is here to hit and to be heard. stop or begin just chose a path of action. the gong dammit, the gong. the gong is in my head and a miilion butterflies hit it as they flutter around-they don’t mean to but the sound is terrifying, you ‘d be surprised. terrifying. and they don’t even care. Stop or begin. I offer commodities for both.
The gong rang with a loud reverberation, filling the large hall with a powerful sound that rattled the vases on the shelves. I looked up but could not find the person who had hit the gong.
There was a large crash.
That damned cat.
It was always all over the place.
This was the fifth time this week that it had ran headlong into my prized Chinese gong in the middle of my living room.
I would have expected it to have learnt by now.
Robin looked around. “now what have you done?” He asked, looking around wildly. All of the animals went rabid, attacking Ella and Robin and tearing their clothes to shreds. They screamed as the rabbits tore at their flesh.
so there was this chinese man and his job for his family was to hit this gong and every day he would bring his son to bang the gong once every morning before school and he loved hitting it everymorning so much that when he would be late to school almost once a week his teachers knew exactly why and theyd just say “Gongin’ it?”
reminds me of the word bong. which makes me think of weed, which makes me think of california and getting high. and creepy things dancing through my head, yet being so happy to see them. running around on their front legs, like high messed up cyclopsys. or dumbledores.
it reminds me of the word bong, which kind of upsets me because i dont like people who smoke weed. but gongs are like, from china or something right? yeah i think so. i wish i could go to china one day, china, japan, japan i’d rather go to. japan reminds me of sushi though and i dont like sushi. i dont like seafood in general.
she hit the gong with all her mite. the enemy was coming. there was nothing she could do anymore to prevent the inevitable except warn the others, hope and pray for salvation for someone, anyone to come and save them. hope is not good people hope for things that are not ever going to happen they get their hopes up
Tal roared and desperately tried to huddle under the cushions, resisting the persistant gong’s call to rise. He shut his eyes tight and snuggled into the warmth of the sheets before it vanished.
There was a gong that could produce every sound ever made on any instrument or material. It was not just a piece of music, but the whole thing. And it as beautiful, but no one could understand it.
The gong sounded and I bowed down with the throng of people around me who also regularly obeyed it’s sound. my knees felt the scratch of the roughness beneath me but they were beginning to callouse.
She hit the gong like a drunk might hit his docile wife.
Asian bell. Loudly rung. sound continues on fluxes. round and multi-color. gong with the wind. last of the mohicans. cherokee. Jeep. cars that killed my brother.
I LOVE GONGS! they make fantastic noises and are very helpful when you need somthing drastic at the end classical songs.
spirituality. east. far east. exotic east.
Bang! The resonance lifted like a fog, and the crowd’s gaze shifted to the gong. The man held the hammer in a warrior’s pose, striking fear in the souls of us all.
as we walked into the band room, kelsey immediately went to her favorite instrument, the gong. No DONT bordy called out but she couldnt hear him over the roar of the gong.
I do not know what the word gong means, but here goes…a gong is a peaceful instrument that makes a loud sound usually used during yoga or another time of rest and relaxation.
A gong sounded behind me, I jumped and turned. Behind me was a tall man with a long coat and dark glasses. I advanced slowly towards him, he smiled shp pointed teeth, suddenly I was very scared.
a gong is one of the rarer instruments in our band class. we only used it for a few asain-sounding songs, not very often. they sound like ancient china (but i doubt anyone knows what that really sounds like).
A chinese thing, makes a great sound, round, brown, hangs. Sumo wrestlers, Asia, cliche.
I once played in the marching pit of my high school marching band. There was a gong in the pit and I was the one who had to hit it with the mallet during a solo section of our “Pirates of the Carribean” themed music. It was intense and an amazing new experience. I loved it.
gong time is up. gong take off your clothes. gong tell your secret. gong this is you. gong and we are one. gong will never end. gong the fish flies. gong. the meat spoils. gong tomorrow ends. gong…
I paused at a faux bronze gong. A small cushioned mallet laid next to it; I picked it up and tapped lightly on its dusty surface. The man behind the counter glared at me disapprovingly. “Are you going to buy that?”
But of course I wasn’t and he knew that. I had come in here every week since I started college here three years ago, and I hadn’t bought a thing yet. I loved the flow of the antiques store. Some of the items had been in the same place on the shelf since my first unplanned visit in September of my freshman year.
I had wandered in on a whim with my friend Kelsie, who grew up here. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in there,” she mused as we walked. Her former tourist guide tone had given way to a bit of puzzlement. “I’ve never noticed it, but you know, from the looks of it, it’s been there awhile.”
“Then let’s go in and check it out. I’m always up for a little adventure with my amazing host,” I replied.
He rang the gong, and all the children stopped playing and came back inside the school from recess.
bleeding from the ears, the young man toppled on the tower ledge. the sky above him, his last image was of her and he sighed and he smiled
I make it count, I always do.
Whenever you hear the sound, I will always be way ahead of you.
And you can forever try to catch me in the next round.
Because I am unstoppable but I know you are too.
My match.
golden it hung above the throne and only sounds when a new king must be found.
And the loudest sound you’ll ever hear is the sound of an ending that you did not expect. All you will feel is the undesirable and unsettling knowledge that you are standing where you were, but not where you’re supposed to be.
at first i thought of ‘bong’ but gong. hmm, i think of a big crashing sound. and then i think of my friend joey who is a music major. he doesnt play a gong, but he orchestrates so i imagine somewhere he’d throw in a gong. for fun.
I don;t know what that is but i think it is the sound of the bell. actually it reminds me of chinese/japanese sports or even sumo restling when a round finishes. We don’t have this sound in my language
the gong just echoed now and forever but the forever that you ask for is too easy and too precious to give up. stop asking. stop answering. kiss me or stop kissing me. the gong is here to hit and to be heard. stop or begin just chose a path of action. the gong dammit, the gong. the gong is in my head and a miilion butterflies hit it as they flutter around-they don’t mean to but the sound is terrifying, you ‘d be surprised. terrifying. and they don’t even care. Stop or begin. I offer commodities for both.
Just chose. I offer the choice, not the election.
The gong rang with a loud reverberation, filling the large hall with a powerful sound that rattled the vases on the shelves. I looked up but could not find the person who had hit the gong.
is like a noise i think like gong gong the noise the bong makes no wait its the chinese percussion symbol thing
There was a large crash.
That damned cat.
It was always all over the place.
This was the fifth time this week that it had ran headlong into my prized Chinese gong in the middle of my living room.
I would have expected it to have learnt by now.
Fingers fly across the board
Rhythmic taps
Brain works fast
Recollections slows
Time runs
And then sounds the gong
The man stayed there holding the gong
lying on the floor dying painfully
nobody did anything
because it was the same gong.
Ella hit the gong.
Robin looked around. “now what have you done?” He asked, looking around wildly. All of the animals went rabid, attacking Ella and Robin and tearing their clothes to shreds. They screamed as the rabbits tore at their flesh.
so there was this chinese man and his job for his family was to hit this gong and every day he would bring his son to bang the gong once every morning before school and he loved hitting it everymorning so much that when he would be late to school almost once a week his teachers knew exactly why and theyd just say “Gongin’ it?”
all i want is to hear the gong ring and jump over puddles and eat sandwiches with whole wheat bread again. but i guess that’s better left unsaid.
The start of something big. A sound that gives me headache. Passage to the unknown.
reminds me of the word bong. which makes me think of weed, which makes me think of california and getting high. and creepy things dancing through my head, yet being so happy to see them. running around on their front legs, like high messed up cyclopsys. or dumbledores.
The gong sounds and all is lost. Explosions
blood
brain
yesterday’s thoughts
pieces of the puzzle, all is lost.
used in orchestras, and a buddhist temples, its big and brassy and shiny, and it brings thought of loud noises and bananas.
the sound vibrated through her body, right through her very teeth. the hot coals loomed before her. she shut her eyes and stepped forward.
it reminds me of the word bong, which kind of upsets me because i dont like people who smoke weed. but gongs are like, from china or something right? yeah i think so. i wish i could go to china one day, china, japan, japan i’d rather go to. japan reminds me of sushi though and i dont like sushi. i dont like seafood in general.
she hit the gong with all her mite. the enemy was coming. there was nothing she could do anymore to prevent the inevitable except warn the others, hope and pray for salvation for someone, anyone to come and save them. hope is not good people hope for things that are not ever going to happen they get their hopes up
we sit in a circle, holding our heads high and our spirits up, waiting only for the sound of the gong, to lull us back the the dawn
Tal roared and desperately tried to huddle under the cushions, resisting the persistant gong’s call to rise. He shut his eyes tight and snuggled into the warmth of the sheets before it vanished.
There was a gong that could produce every sound ever made on any instrument or material. It was not just a piece of music, but the whole thing. And it as beautiful, but no one could understand it.