He held my hand and I knew all would be ok. He held my heart and I knew my world would be ok. He held my thoughts and I knew I was ok. He hold the world and knows all that is important to me. He is my Lord Jesus Christ.
He held the stone in his hands. It was an interesting stone, glowing red and emanating a strange energy. It held power and he knew it. But, how was he to use it?
He held her in his arms, tight to his chest, so she could feel him breath, hear his heart beat.She held him to never let go, happier then she had ever been.
I pushed back the pale green curtains with my right hand, my other hand cradling the baby of the patient. She was a beautiful young baby , with a thin fluff of hair on her head. Her eyes were closed, but I have a feeling that they were as mesmerizing as her mother’s. As I reached the patient, I smiled at her. After I gave the baby to her, I turned around and walked away. But not before seeing the mother crying silently as she held her newborn on her arms.
*Truly fictional.
Riel held Alehi in his hands, a tiny creature with bent, glittering wings and sharply keen yet benign eyes. Alehi was laughing, of course, and Riel was beaming gently down at him. His contacts had been abandoned that morning, allowing his gaze to brim forth with all of its natural crimson fire. They were two odd creatures, the Vaki and the fairy.
I held on to my emotions for too long. it didn’t help anything and destructed my intuition and ruined everything I ever wanted. I have never been the same.
He held his head up high, ignoring the burn of the shackles where they rubbed against the already-raw boniness of his wrists. The mob was shouting and cheering, and more than once his captors had to deflect rotten vegetation flung their way.
He knew he’d done right even if, in the eyes of the law, he’d committed a terrible wrong. They could kill him, but his work would never be done, and the thousands who came after him would spread the word.
I held it in my arms for what I knew would be the last time. I knew this day would come. I was in college now and had no time for frivolity. Finals week has arrived. Still, had a hard time letting go.
I miss my pillow…and my bed.
“Don’t leave me,” I told him, sobbing. He was standing in the doorway holding a suitcase in one hand and his cigar in the other.
“I need to,” he told me. I ran into his arms and he hugged me tightly for the last time, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough, and that’s why he was leaving me in the first place. He held me for a good minute or two.
And then, criminally, he let go.
to hold.it means at one point in time something was held or being held or there again it could mean being heldnow. at fist i saw it in the past tense but it can alsobe in the present tense. What isorwas being held is the question but the again why is itthe question .It is a word which on its own has no real connotation until other words are used with it.
I feel you, safe in the eye of a world with no arms. Safety is far from being alone but not forsaken to anothers demise. I am here, holding on to the loathing of inner faith of moral ethics. Time is not to be held but forgiven.
i held the baby , so small , so innocent crying ffor my help. crying for assurance that her mother was okay ! , a baby enduring the sight of her mother being beat by some man who planned to rob them.. The baby was told vigoursly to shutup and all the mother did was cry.
her baby the one she gave birth to , had been traumatized. no matter how small she was she wasnt ever going to be the same. The doorbell! , he runs over opens it up and the neighbors ask if everything was okay he said yeah and the wife of the neighbor peeked over and their was blood dripping from the mom. She pretended she hadnt seen and left and called the cops.
I held her hand in the snow as we walked home from the park that one day. Lord, that was a good day. I can remember the snow, her hair, the smell, the car, the park, the trees, the cold, the air. How different things were back then, so much more…real. I can’t live anymore without her. If only I could go back….
Daddy held me. He was my blanket from the storm that was raging my life. My shield from the swords that were stabbing me. The courage that I needed to fight. He held me until every tear had been cried, until every last drop fell from my eyes. First they came like rain, a storm pounding down, then drop by drop, like a faucet trying to find water in a famine. But he wouldn’t give up on me until I had escaped from the ropes that held me.
i held the water in my hands and splashed my face with it. after wiping down, i see my reflection in the mirror. who am i, really? what am i doing here, really? is there really any other face that could be on my head? if one little genetic, one little molecule was changed? what if i had died in childbirth? what if my mother had? so many little possibilities in life, so many close encounters and regrets and modifications. so many people, and mirrors for them to look into.
I was held in his soft embrace. The kiss of his lips atop my head. His arms wrapped around me as we laid there together. He held me close against his chest, my head resting against his heart. He was mine for the day and that’s how he will stay. I gave up my heart to him to hold so that I will never receive it back.
Don’t hold back, but always hold on. Give everything you’ve got, always. And stay true to who you are. Oh, but sometimes it’s hard to hold on to your beliefs and what you know is right when there is a nice cute boy willing to hold you all night.
He held my hand. Simply, gently. Only one moment to have together- for this was the last. His coarse skin- sandpaper against mine- brought me back to times when life was pure.
He looked at me, eyes squinting. Hoping for anything, anything at all.
I managed a smile. Fearing nothing but the changes to come after this moment, I managed to murmur,
I love to be held by a person special to me, either a boyfriend or a best friend or something like that. Physical touch makes me feel really close to a person in a way that I can’t feel anyone else. I know that they trust me enough to let me into their space, and they love me enough to want to be in mine to. Being held provides a source of comfort.
I held my children close to me as the car careened over the side of the cliff. I squeezed my eyes tightly, said a prayer, and screamed at the top of my lungs, “HELP!!” There were several spectators below who managed to get some rescue people to help before our car filled with water.
A cradle. It swung gently back and forth in the breeze. The air was perfumed with lilac and the aroma of summer, quieting my frazzled daughter. She was hypnotized by the laziness, the sleepiness of summer in Scars Hollow, where the sun slowed us down.
He held me. So tightly. I felt the air get squeezed out of my lungs, but i didn’t care. All i wanted was to be loved, to cradled as I digested this horrifying news. I didn’t understand it. But this embrace gave me the hope that I could someday.
“He held my hand!” Emily screamed excited as she watched the boy of her dreams, James Porter, walk away.
“Only for five minutes.” Replied Sherry who was Emily’s friend only according to “the rules of the playground”. Those same rules stated that holding a boys hand was almost equal to a kiss on the cheek.
“You are just jealous he likes me and not you.” Emily said in defense.
“You don’t even know he likes you until he hugs you and ask you to be your girlfriend.”
“Well, my mommy said I can’t have a boyfriend in fourth grade.”
“So ha! He can’t even like you if he wanted to.”
Poor Emily sat on the swing with her arms crossed wanted very much for the bell to ring so she could have an excuse to run away.
he held me too close for comfort. I tried to gently pull away but he only let me away so far. I looked into his eyes letting him know that this no longer felt right. He just smiled at me, as if he had never done anything to upset me his whole fucking life. I broke away and never looked back.
He held my hand. Simply, gently. Only one moment to have together- for this is the last. His coarse skin- sandpaper against mine- brought me back to times when life was pure.
He looked at me, eyes squinting. Hoping for anything, anything at all.
I managed a smile. Fearing nothing but the changes to come after this moment, I managed to murmur.
I held you in my arms, like the dear child you once were. We once were something, weren’t we? I miss what we had. We used to be so much more. That’s it, really. I just miss it. I miss you. But we can never go back, back to what we once were, what we once had. We can’t be the people we used to be.
She held her newborn son against her chest, breathing in deeply his soft baby smell and, for the first time in her life, she knew the meaning of love .
held is comfort. if only everyone knew what it was like to be held by someone you love. i get so afraid to hold someone close to my heart when i know i should cherish them. as long as someone knows love, they will be held in security and happiness.
Id love to be a singer. I sing all the time and I’ve have been in many projects dealing with music and arts. Most recetly I tried out for Ragtime. I hope I get the part I want. If not I hope I get something else in the play.
“I think…I might be missing you.”
but I didn’t hear her; she held on to things far too long; stopped on the street to talk to me, but I kept walking by, guilty that she kept me in the present tense, even for so long after–
she clasped it in her hand. knowing it couldn’t stay. she thought. prepared herself. sunk into the moment, remembering how it felt, what it was like. Then she let go. she’d held it.
you held me, so i held on. who could blame me. you didnt need chains, or duct tape, or cages: you had your arms. If only you were here still, to hold me. Because you held. Past tense. No more. like our love; no more.
fishnets. held onto her like prison bars, conforming to her body, reminded her of a hostage situation;
she stood up to dance, to fake it, but her ankle collapsed under the weight of her distress; not quite on the chair, not quite on the floor.
He held my hand and I knew all would be ok. He held my heart and I knew my world would be ok. He held my thoughts and I knew I was ok. He hold the world and knows all that is important to me. He is my Lord Jesus Christ.
He held the stone in his hands. It was an interesting stone, glowing red and emanating a strange energy. It held power and he knew it. But, how was he to use it?
He held her in his arms, tight to his chest, so she could feel him breath, hear his heart beat.She held him to never let go, happier then she had ever been.
I pushed back the pale green curtains with my right hand, my other hand cradling the baby of the patient. She was a beautiful young baby , with a thin fluff of hair on her head. Her eyes were closed, but I have a feeling that they were as mesmerizing as her mother’s. As I reached the patient, I smiled at her. After I gave the baby to her, I turned around and walked away. But not before seeing the mother crying silently as she held her newborn on her arms.
*Truly fictional.
Riel held Alehi in his hands, a tiny creature with bent, glittering wings and sharply keen yet benign eyes. Alehi was laughing, of course, and Riel was beaming gently down at him. His contacts had been abandoned that morning, allowing his gaze to brim forth with all of its natural crimson fire. They were two odd creatures, the Vaki and the fairy.
I held on to my emotions for too long. it didn’t help anything and destructed my intuition and ruined everything I ever wanted. I have never been the same.
He held his head up high, ignoring the burn of the shackles where they rubbed against the already-raw boniness of his wrists. The mob was shouting and cheering, and more than once his captors had to deflect rotten vegetation flung their way.
He knew he’d done right even if, in the eyes of the law, he’d committed a terrible wrong. They could kill him, but his work would never be done, and the thousands who came after him would spread the word.
The world
Sun
In its palms
Growing
Forever shifting
I held it in my arms for what I knew would be the last time. I knew this day would come. I was in college now and had no time for frivolity. Finals week has arrived. Still, had a hard time letting go.
I miss my pillow…and my bed.
“Don’t leave me,” I told him, sobbing. He was standing in the doorway holding a suitcase in one hand and his cigar in the other.
“I need to,” he told me. I ran into his arms and he hugged me tightly for the last time, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough, and that’s why he was leaving me in the first place. He held me for a good minute or two.
And then, criminally, he let go.
to hold.it means at one point in time something was held or being held or there again it could mean being heldnow. at fist i saw it in the past tense but it can alsobe in the present tense. What isorwas being held is the question but the again why is itthe question .It is a word which on its own has no real connotation until other words are used with it.
I feel you, safe in the eye of a world with no arms. Safety is far from being alone but not forsaken to anothers demise. I am here, holding on to the loathing of inner faith of moral ethics. Time is not to be held but forgiven.
i held the baby , so small , so innocent crying ffor my help. crying for assurance that her mother was okay ! , a baby enduring the sight of her mother being beat by some man who planned to rob them.. The baby was told vigoursly to shutup and all the mother did was cry.
her baby the one she gave birth to , had been traumatized. no matter how small she was she wasnt ever going to be the same. The doorbell! , he runs over opens it up and the neighbors ask if everything was okay he said yeah and the wife of the neighbor peeked over and their was blood dripping from the mom. She pretended she hadnt seen and left and called the cops.
I held her hand in the snow as we walked home from the park that one day. Lord, that was a good day. I can remember the snow, her hair, the smell, the car, the park, the trees, the cold, the air. How different things were back then, so much more…real. I can’t live anymore without her. If only I could go back….
Daddy held me. He was my blanket from the storm that was raging my life. My shield from the swords that were stabbing me. The courage that I needed to fight. He held me until every tear had been cried, until every last drop fell from my eyes. First they came like rain, a storm pounding down, then drop by drop, like a faucet trying to find water in a famine. But he wouldn’t give up on me until I had escaped from the ropes that held me.
i held the water in my hands and splashed my face with it. after wiping down, i see my reflection in the mirror. who am i, really? what am i doing here, really? is there really any other face that could be on my head? if one little genetic, one little molecule was changed? what if i had died in childbirth? what if my mother had? so many little possibilities in life, so many close encounters and regrets and modifications. so many people, and mirrors for them to look into.
I was held in his soft embrace. The kiss of his lips atop my head. His arms wrapped around me as we laid there together. He held me close against his chest, my head resting against his heart. He was mine for the day and that’s how he will stay. I gave up my heart to him to hold so that I will never receive it back.
So tight we hold so comfortable we meld
Too tight we choke let go we weld
Over now tear flow, I yelled.
Past tense of Hold.
Don’t hold back, but always hold on. Give everything you’ve got, always. And stay true to who you are. Oh, but sometimes it’s hard to hold on to your beliefs and what you know is right when there is a nice cute boy willing to hold you all night.
He held my hand. Simply, gently. Only one moment to have together- for this was the last. His coarse skin- sandpaper against mine- brought me back to times when life was pure.
He looked at me, eyes squinting. Hoping for anything, anything at all.
I managed a smile. Fearing nothing but the changes to come after this moment, I managed to murmur,
“Happy Father’s day, Dad.”
I love to be held by a person special to me, either a boyfriend or a best friend or something like that. Physical touch makes me feel really close to a person in a way that I can’t feel anyone else. I know that they trust me enough to let me into their space, and they love me enough to want to be in mine to. Being held provides a source of comfort.
I held my children close to me as the car careened over the side of the cliff. I squeezed my eyes tightly, said a prayer, and screamed at the top of my lungs, “HELP!!” There were several spectators below who managed to get some rescue people to help before our car filled with water.
A cradle. It swung gently back and forth in the breeze. The air was perfumed with lilac and the aroma of summer, quieting my frazzled daughter. She was hypnotized by the laziness, the sleepiness of summer in Scars Hollow, where the sun slowed us down.
He held me. So tightly. I felt the air get squeezed out of my lungs, but i didn’t care. All i wanted was to be loved, to cradled as I digested this horrifying news. I didn’t understand it. But this embrace gave me the hope that I could someday.
“He held my hand!” Emily screamed excited as she watched the boy of her dreams, James Porter, walk away.
“Only for five minutes.” Replied Sherry who was Emily’s friend only according to “the rules of the playground”. Those same rules stated that holding a boys hand was almost equal to a kiss on the cheek.
“You are just jealous he likes me and not you.” Emily said in defense.
“You don’t even know he likes you until he hugs you and ask you to be your girlfriend.”
“Well, my mommy said I can’t have a boyfriend in fourth grade.”
“So ha! He can’t even like you if he wanted to.”
Poor Emily sat on the swing with her arms crossed wanted very much for the bell to ring so she could have an excuse to run away.
he held me too close for comfort. I tried to gently pull away but he only let me away so far. I looked into his eyes letting him know that this no longer felt right. He just smiled at me, as if he had never done anything to upset me his whole fucking life. I broke away and never looked back.
He held my hand. Simply, gently. Only one moment to have together- for this is the last. His coarse skin- sandpaper against mine- brought me back to times when life was pure.
He looked at me, eyes squinting. Hoping for anything, anything at all.
I managed a smile. Fearing nothing but the changes to come after this moment, I managed to murmur.
“Happy Father’s Day.”
I held you in my arms, like the dear child you once were. We once were something, weren’t we? I miss what we had. We used to be so much more. That’s it, really. I just miss it. I miss you. But we can never go back, back to what we once were, what we once had. We can’t be the people we used to be.
She held her newborn son against her chest, breathing in deeply his soft baby smell and, for the first time in her life, she knew the meaning of love .
call the police! I’m being held here against my will!
excuse me sir, maybe you should stop holding this man against his will.
okay.
held is comfort. if only everyone knew what it was like to be held by someone you love. i get so afraid to hold someone close to my heart when i know i should cherish them. as long as someone knows love, they will be held in security and happiness.
Id love to be a singer. I sing all the time and I’ve have been in many projects dealing with music and arts. Most recetly I tried out for Ragtime. I hope I get the part I want. If not I hope I get something else in the play.
hands babies cups milk sawdust chest chicken breast necklace slippery water sunscreen to protect held to warm held
“I think…I might be missing you.”
but I didn’t hear her; she held on to things far too long; stopped on the street to talk to me, but I kept walking by, guilty that she kept me in the present tense, even for so long after–
she clasped it in her hand. knowing it couldn’t stay. she thought. prepared herself. sunk into the moment, remembering how it felt, what it was like. Then she let go. she’d held it.
He held her with a new found innocence. Deep down it had been dwelling, waiting for an eternity to come to the surface. There was no other.
you held me, so i held on. who could blame me. you didnt need chains, or duct tape, or cages: you had your arms. If only you were here still, to hold me. Because you held. Past tense. No more. like our love; no more.
fishnets. held onto her like prison bars, conforming to her body, reminded her of a hostage situation;
she stood up to dance, to fake it, but her ankle collapsed under the weight of her distress; not quite on the chair, not quite on the floor.
closely to your chest and tightly in your arms.