my hands in his, and the trembling, the sweaty palms, the sweet taste of first love, hold it in your memory, knowing that it’s better to have had loved than never love before. held my attention, held my gaze, held my heart. i love you.
The Bazaar held everything you could imagine. The smells wafted up to me in a greeting of home and i almost cried with happiness. Cloths were draped over stands, dyed indigo, majenta, emerald, with designs you wouldn’t think possible.
Spices filled the air along with, dust, heat, clay, hemp, manure, and the rare, sweet perfumes.
I stopped short to take it all in when a man ran full into me knocking me to the ground in his haste. He kept going, turned around and bowed quickly not stooping to help me up.
Dirt covered me from head to toe. I couldn’t dally, i remembered my mission.
she held me in her arms and cried like a baby. I didn’t know what was going on but I stayed there and waited for her sobs to subside, quietly murmuring, “it’s okay, everything’s alright now”, as if I was completely aware of her troubles. She sobbed into my clothes, mumbling “you’re the only one who understands.”
The line of horses with their soldiers blew cold air in the early hours. The line held by sheer will of man and beast while the command strode eastward, barking final orders and plans to his subordinates.
It’s what I never held, it’s what always escaped me that stays with me now: the world, my dad, the right words, a smooth stone to drop into the river at just the right moment…
I remember the first time I held my son. He was so little, and it was surreal that I had created this tiny person. His face was wrinkled up and his skull was misshapen, but to me he was beautiful. I could’ve stared down into his face endlessly. Every twitch of his eyelid was amazing.
When I held my third child the day he was born, I was filled with something I will never forget — an emotion I can’t quite describe. It was all about his cheeks — they were so substantial, but not quite totally there — like a puff of softness and this crazy squishiness that disappeared as soon as I pressed it with my lips.
I am held by my own thoughts and by my own restrictions. I see myself as something that could be real if only I could let go. I am able to do anything if I can just let go. I am not held by anything from my past if I don’t choose to be.
I am held by my own thoughts and by my own restrictions. I see myself as something that could be real if only I could let go. I am able to do anything if I can just let go. I am not held by anything from my past if I don’t choose to be.
I held back the charging crowd with a simple fiberglass shield. On one side, the law, the other side, a mindless bloodthirsty crowd hellbent on destruction.
sweet. don’t drop those blossoms, babe, they may be rose, or worse, crepe…that would explain the color. but whatever anyone does, DON’T TOUCH HER. she is mine. you are yours. these are ours, but not together, never together. we will hoard them. Let us feast, disparately.
I held onto my crazy thoughts for too long. I need to hold close what is special to me and hold the good feelings in my head. I have held out for too long in letting myself be happy
I held her tightly against my chest, our hearts were beating like a locomotive late for it’s shipment. I wish I was the conductor; but she had all the tickets. I worry sometimes about our lives derailing and leaving nothing but a tragic channel 5 news story and a big ol’ mess for the government to clean up. Don’t let us be like that. Please.
after many years of solitude, there were only a couple of memories on which he could hold to.. and not because he needed it or for his extraordinary memory, but for it was meant for him to remember only those essential thoughts..
he held me in his arms last night and for the first time in days I felt comfortable and properly tired. Like I could stay there till dawn. No interuptions, to thoughts keeping me awake. Just the knowledge I was warm and safe in the arms of my future husband.
He was a liar, and that was truth.
He held her so closely.
He whispered sweet nothings into her ears, little melodies woven of lies.
And he held her back from her true being.
He held her so tightly.
She loved it. She hated it.
He held her so tightly…
That he suffocated her.
i was held as a baby just like everyone else. I was held with two arms, like a football. I was held and dropped, also like most. Everyone held me. My aunts, my grandparents, my siblings, my parents. If I wasn’t held I would not have known who to be attached to. Who to care for. Being someone’s football meant something to me.
I long to be held. But not just by anyone, no. I want to be held by the most amazing man I know, the one who cares deeply about all my hopes and dreams and knows that holding me is one of the nicest things he can offer. This man could be anyone, depending on when the craving strikes and how much I’ve had to drink. Usually I won’t make eye contact after the holding is done, just to keep things suspended in that free, loving arc of time. I’ll never have to look back at that moment and think: “Eck, I was held but I think I should get a rabies shot just to be on the safe side.”
I held him in my arms for the last time. It felt like there was nothing in the world that would feel as good as his breath over my shoulders. I miss him so much that it hurts sometimes. I wonder late at night if he still thinks about the last time I was in his arms. Does he miss me? Does he still remember the love? If I say him, I would tell him that loosing him was probably the most hardest thing I ever had to deal with in my life. I love you Abdullah. And God bless you for giving me a feeling that I never experienced before. Young love. ;*
i’ve held this is in since the day i met you… YOU ARE A DICK…. you have no right to talk to me the way you do… i owe you NOTHING you are holding my best friend back but she is so wrapped in you that she can’t see it. she’s a successful woman and you can’t deal with the fact that you have no job and are worthless… you are a piece of shit.. i wish you would leave her alone and deal with your personal issues… i wish she could understand…
by "puerto rican bitch" (as you say) on 11.24.2008
Happiness
Hapiness is a very good feeling of joy.
A person cannot live without happiness.
It felt so nice to be held. No amount of money can ever be paid or no amount of wealth given that can truly make some one old you if they don’t want to. To be held by some one who wants to hold…that is the world. The time i’m thinking of was recently, we had just met, not even 30 minutes ago, and we were walking in the rain and stopped to hold and kiss…it was amazing…
I held your hand as I said good bye. There is so much that can be conveyed . My good wishes for all your future enterprises, my regrets at not being able to spend more time with you…
held misconceptions about various issue that are totally inconsequential without having a cross to bear before it can become evident that this must be an imperative call to make a change. It can also suggest that we may have to resort to various strategies if we were to prove the veracity of the theory and thereby put an end to any dispute or controversy that arises from it. Whether or not this will be the outcome and whether or not this outcome will have any bearing on the future, only time will tell. In the meanwhile, all we can do is to ensure that anarchy does not prevail and that we take whatever steps are necessary in order that peace may prevail. These are those times…
He didn’t know when the last tome someone had just held him like this was. It had been a while, definitely. Not since he was still a kid. Probably his mom, putting him to bed, soothing him from a nightmare.
He remembered the last time he’d been held. The day of his mother’s funeral. His aunt had come up to him
/oh you poor dear, no little boy should be without his mother/
And she’d grabbed him and hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe. he could feel the wetness of her tears on his neck, and he squirmed, trying to get away–too much emotion.
His father could barely stand to look at him after that, sent him off to boarding school that year, and when he’d graduated there, he’d gone directly on to college–started in the summer semester to avoid spending any time at home.
He hadn’t lived at home since he was 12 years old.
So, yeah. Held. It’d been a long time. He’d forgotten how nice it could be.
well. um. i’m not going to write anything. i just spent an entire weekend watching romance movies, mostly of the gay variety, and am dwelling on my GODDAMN STUPID LOVE LIFE THAT’S NOT GOING ANYWHERE, so thinking/writing about being held is just about the least healthy thing I could possibly do right now.
so… it’s supposed to snow soon? maybe?
In one body contained. I’m blocked and held in by circle of desks and lines of chairs and small hands. I held these hands, but I can’t hold a pencil long enough to write with their fingers in the way.
I saw his head turn slowly toward me. He was looking straight into my eyes, in the windows of my soul. I held his gaze for as long as I could until it hurt to look any longer. Then he let out his last dying breath.
Held the top of the tree in complete
unexistence. The child of mine that I have not
seen since I was one myself.
I cannot see the dirt in my hands nor my
own death which will be soon.
I am no more and my child will weep on the floor.
i held it in as long as I could since the room was so silent. my muscles were able to tense up for only so long until I let it slide. “It wasn’t me.”
my hands in his, and the trembling, the sweaty palms, the sweet taste of first love, hold it in your memory, knowing that it’s better to have had loved than never love before. held my attention, held my gaze, held my heart. i love you.
Held in his arms, I fell as an unworthy participant in the experiment
The Bazaar held everything you could imagine. The smells wafted up to me in a greeting of home and i almost cried with happiness. Cloths were draped over stands, dyed indigo, majenta, emerald, with designs you wouldn’t think possible.
Spices filled the air along with, dust, heat, clay, hemp, manure, and the rare, sweet perfumes.
I stopped short to take it all in when a man ran full into me knocking me to the ground in his haste. He kept going, turned around and bowed quickly not stooping to help me up.
Dirt covered me from head to toe. I couldn’t dally, i remembered my mission.
Held – Dutch hero, once here, now gone, never forgotten. May he rest in peace. Amen.
she held me in her arms and cried like a baby. I didn’t know what was going on but I stayed there and waited for her sobs to subside, quietly murmuring, “it’s okay, everything’s alright now”, as if I was completely aware of her troubles. She sobbed into my clothes, mumbling “you’re the only one who understands.”
The line of horses with their soldiers blew cold air in the early hours. The line held by sheer will of man and beast while the command strode eastward, barking final orders and plans to his subordinates.
It’s what I never held, it’s what always escaped me that stays with me now: the world, my dad, the right words, a smooth stone to drop into the river at just the right moment…
I remember the first time I held my son. He was so little, and it was surreal that I had created this tiny person. His face was wrinkled up and his skull was misshapen, but to me he was beautiful. I could’ve stared down into his face endlessly. Every twitch of his eyelid was amazing.
When I held my third child the day he was born, I was filled with something I will never forget — an emotion I can’t quite describe. It was all about his cheeks — they were so substantial, but not quite totally there — like a puff of softness and this crazy squishiness that disappeared as soon as I pressed it with my lips.
I am held by my own thoughts and by my own restrictions. I see myself as something that could be real if only I could let go. I am able to do anything if I can just let go. I am not held by anything from my past if I don’t choose to be.
I am held by my own thoughts and by my own restrictions. I see myself as something that could be real if only I could let go. I am able to do anything if I can just let go. I am not held by anything from my past if I don’t choose to be.
I held back the charging crowd with a simple fiberglass shield. On one side, the law, the other side, a mindless bloodthirsty crowd hellbent on destruction.
I held you in my arms, you were sad so i wanted to help you. Our closeness allowed me to support you both physically and mentally
sweet. don’t drop those blossoms, babe, they may be rose, or worse, crepe…that would explain the color. but whatever anyone does, DON’T TOUCH HER. she is mine. you are yours. these are ours, but not together, never together. we will hoard them. Let us feast, disparately.
Held is the past tense of hold.
person who sells movie ticket in black or outside the ticket window at high prices
I held onto my crazy thoughts for too long. I need to hold close what is special to me and hold the good feelings in my head. I have held out for too long in letting myself be happy
I held her tightly against my chest, our hearts were beating like a locomotive late for it’s shipment. I wish I was the conductor; but she had all the tickets. I worry sometimes about our lives derailing and leaving nothing but a tragic channel 5 news story and a big ol’ mess for the government to clean up. Don’t let us be like that. Please.
after many years of solitude, there were only a couple of memories on which he could hold to.. and not because he needed it or for his extraordinary memory, but for it was meant for him to remember only those essential thoughts..
he held right from my side. i was really felt boring. but the “held” was a word i could never understand. what is this held?
up in the sky
he held me in his arms last night and for the first time in days I felt comfortable and properly tired. Like I could stay there till dawn. No interuptions, to thoughts keeping me awake. Just the knowledge I was warm and safe in the arms of my future husband.
He was a liar, and that was truth.
He held her so closely.
He whispered sweet nothings into her ears, little melodies woven of lies.
And he held her back from her true being.
He held her so tightly.
She loved it. She hated it.
He held her so tightly…
That he suffocated her.
i was held as a baby just like everyone else. I was held with two arms, like a football. I was held and dropped, also like most. Everyone held me. My aunts, my grandparents, my siblings, my parents. If I wasn’t held I would not have known who to be attached to. Who to care for. Being someone’s football meant something to me.
I long to be held. But not just by anyone, no. I want to be held by the most amazing man I know, the one who cares deeply about all my hopes and dreams and knows that holding me is one of the nicest things he can offer. This man could be anyone, depending on when the craving strikes and how much I’ve had to drink. Usually I won’t make eye contact after the holding is done, just to keep things suspended in that free, loving arc of time. I’ll never have to look back at that moment and think: “Eck, I was held but I think I should get a rabies shot just to be on the safe side.”
I held him in my arms for the last time. It felt like there was nothing in the world that would feel as good as his breath over my shoulders. I miss him so much that it hurts sometimes. I wonder late at night if he still thinks about the last time I was in his arms. Does he miss me? Does he still remember the love? If I say him, I would tell him that loosing him was probably the most hardest thing I ever had to deal with in my life. I love you Abdullah. And God bless you for giving me a feeling that I never experienced before. Young love. ;*
i’ve held this is in since the day i met you… YOU ARE A DICK…. you have no right to talk to me the way you do… i owe you NOTHING you are holding my best friend back but she is so wrapped in you that she can’t see it. she’s a successful woman and you can’t deal with the fact that you have no job and are worthless… you are a piece of shit.. i wish you would leave her alone and deal with your personal issues… i wish she could understand…
Happiness
Hapiness is a very good feeling of joy.
A person cannot live without happiness.
It felt so nice to be held. No amount of money can ever be paid or no amount of wealth given that can truly make some one old you if they don’t want to. To be held by some one who wants to hold…that is the world. The time i’m thinking of was recently, we had just met, not even 30 minutes ago, and we were walking in the rain and stopped to hold and kiss…it was amazing…
I held your hand as I said good bye. There is so much that can be conveyed . My good wishes for all your future enterprises, my regrets at not being able to spend more time with you…
loved miss pen boy up down back aside inside me you open mine help arms
held misconceptions about various issue that are totally inconsequential without having a cross to bear before it can become evident that this must be an imperative call to make a change. It can also suggest that we may have to resort to various strategies if we were to prove the veracity of the theory and thereby put an end to any dispute or controversy that arises from it. Whether or not this will be the outcome and whether or not this outcome will have any bearing on the future, only time will tell. In the meanwhile, all we can do is to ensure that anarchy does not prevail and that we take whatever steps are necessary in order that peace may prevail. These are those times…
He didn’t know when the last tome someone had just held him like this was. It had been a while, definitely. Not since he was still a kid. Probably his mom, putting him to bed, soothing him from a nightmare.
He remembered the last time he’d been held. The day of his mother’s funeral. His aunt had come up to him
/oh you poor dear, no little boy should be without his mother/
And she’d grabbed him and hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe. he could feel the wetness of her tears on his neck, and he squirmed, trying to get away–too much emotion.
His father could barely stand to look at him after that, sent him off to boarding school that year, and when he’d graduated there, he’d gone directly on to college–started in the summer semester to avoid spending any time at home.
He hadn’t lived at home since he was 12 years old.
So, yeah. Held. It’d been a long time. He’d forgotten how nice it could be.
[and this took more like 5, not 1]
well. um. i’m not going to write anything. i just spent an entire weekend watching romance movies, mostly of the gay variety, and am dwelling on my GODDAMN STUPID LOVE LIFE THAT’S NOT GOING ANYWHERE, so thinking/writing about being held is just about the least healthy thing I could possibly do right now.
so… it’s supposed to snow soon? maybe?
In one body contained. I’m blocked and held in by circle of desks and lines of chairs and small hands. I held these hands, but I can’t hold a pencil long enough to write with their fingers in the way.
Why did you stop holding?
I saw his head turn slowly toward me. He was looking straight into my eyes, in the windows of my soul. I held his gaze for as long as I could until it hurt to look any longer. Then he let out his last dying breath.
me; he held the book; it means hold on.
Held the top of the tree in complete
unexistence. The child of mine that I have not
seen since I was one myself.
I cannot see the dirt in my hands nor my
own death which will be soon.
I am no more and my child will weep on the floor.