Neither of them expected it. Not one of them would have thought that both of them shared the same love for torturing small animals. They had found their hinge.
The edge of the thought hangs long and dangerously close. I feel as though I could merely step and I am walking on air. It whispers and winds through my mind, whispering like the serpent to Eve.
“Freedom”, it says,”freedom from attachments. No ties to people that only weigh you down. No logic that only serves to constrict your mind. Nothing. Just nothing.”
And my hand shakes as I unhinge the last bolt of sanity.
hinge like doorhinge as in what an orange? yeah that rhymes i got that from a show which i dont even remember, i carly? drake and josh? who knows, one of those shows. WOW that rhymes hahaha wtf amazing. anyways uh hinge like fringe is that even a word?
the door hinge is almost broken. the door is hanging on by a thread. when the door swings open, and then closed, the hinge is getting closer and closer to broken! we need new door hinges!!!
oh how you swing and creak, don’t land on my head as I reach inside to explore the treasures of the box … call me Pandora, or I will become unhinged, I always need to know, such curiosity cannot ever be satisfied
It was just an old door hinge. Rusted out and long past its prime, it no longer held its golden hue and creaked every time the door moved an inch. That door hinge saw a lot, though. It saw first dates, both good and bad, messy breakups and kisses that were exchanged quickly before the parents came out to check. It watched the kids grow up and leave for the last time. For a simple door hinge, it saw a lot.
Everything hinges in the balance of life. The door hinges creak when I open the door. They rattle when my students bang on the door of my classroom. Everything hinges on what I prepare for the day… all of my classes and students – their success depends on what I do. I am the hinge that holds my class together.
The hinges creaked as Mark lay his hand on the door. Swallowing back slight fears, Mark forced himself to reach his hand up and slide his fingers over the golden hinges holding the old door together. His breath caught in his throat as the door swayed, creaking terribly. With careful fingers, Mark reached for the top of the hinge.
“Release,” he whispered, and the bolt popped out into Mark’s hand. Only two more, and then he would be ready to go.
janice couldn’t believe her outburst at work. the events from last night had taken a toll on her. she was no longer composed and her persona had transformed from professional to crazy. she had become unhinged.. the hinge on the door that kept her private life separate was now dangling by the last thin line of respect.
back and forth, back and forth, back and forth and back again. we were like a hinge, never in the same place as before. and i loved it. but sometimes the hinge needs to be oiled in order to continue working the way it’s intended to. just a thought.
Hinges are the source of moving. They allow doors to open and close. They are the middle of the beginning and end. Hinges are the reason doors can open and close. Their significance is more important than the door itself. What are your hinges in life?
The hinge on the door, made a squeaking sound as she open it. It was after 3 in the morning. She was supposed to be home at 10 pm. Maybe, he wouldn’t wake up. But, she wouldn’t bet on it. He was a light sleeper.
I am a nut. Not a peanut or anything silly like that; no one is allergic to me or my scent! In fact, folks follow me around like ass on a fine female. I do not care, and everyone knows it. That seems to either entertain or turn folks on. I’m exciting like an explosion, or birth.
Way off the hinge. My jokes never are minute, and I am a big bad maaan
The squeaky door hinge was the first warning that set off all occupants in the old wooden cabin.
The sound of the rasping metal on the backdoor sent them all into a tizzy.
Well, everyone except Anabelle, who didn’t even pause as she hurriedly stuffed her hands into mittens and awkwardly wound a fat scarf ’round her little neck.
“Mummy, c’mon, Daddy’s out there!”
The grown-ups exchanged glances with the little girl of blue eyes and blue lips.
“I guess she’d know.” The old groundskeeper sighed, at last. “Not like I could pick out a frostman from a twitch.”
“Twatch.” The mother corrected and suppressed a shiver. “Twatch.”
When I arrived on the scene there was a siren going off in my head as I reached for the door. It was slanted like someone left a piece of it behind just for me to find.
I hate this word, its the thing that makes your door open and close, my brother broke my hinges on my door by kicking them once, it was really awkward, kinda like my life… do you have an awkward life… i do. like, this senior likes me, i think, but im not really sure. what if he hates me? I’m so scared about my exams, oh wait HINGE! UM DOOR! I um don’t know. hahaha.
Sandy and I (and Deborah?) talked about the notion of poem as window, poem as door, and then I think we talked about the idea of a poem having a hinge. THat was cool. I love this word. The hinge is the thing that makes the turning possible, everything hinges on something else very cool.
it all hinges on my ability to turn on a dime… make it happen.. be resourceful. Exhausting. Can’t wait for the day when everything doesn’t have to be in limbo, when creativity s allowed to flow…
Door hinges. No door can work without one. Some doors lead to happiness, others to uncertain feelings and horrible thoughts. Never turn your back on one door because another looks more exciting. Take life one door at a time and enjoy whatever you may find behind it. You never know what you’ll come across.
I’m swinging back and forth dangerously between one future I want for myself and another. I want to run away with the hippies. I want to walk the line between society and rejecting society. I want to blend in when I have to, I want to stay off the grid when I can. I want to be the hinge. I want to hold both of my prevalent faucets together.
As the door to the cabin opened, I heard that hinge squeak like it always did when I was a kid. It used to make me think of ghosts. Now it makes me think of the ghosts of all those people I knew when I spent my summers here.
The hinge of a door is great. It makes creaking noises every time a door is opened. It has great uses for keeping things together and it is normally the colour gold-yellow.
I’ve finally let God repair the hinge on the door to my dreams, my destiny. He gave me the key, but reminded me to open the door at the right time; when He tells me to- not when I feel like it.
As he sat there trying to sit, he heard above the din of the room the squeak of a hinge. A barnyard door? A cabinet? Jensen couldn’t be sure, but he had a bad feeling, especially when he heard the loud, slow, heavy clumping of boots on the floor, which were coming toward him.
When my mom banged the door she broke the hinge of the door. My mom, Jann, called my dad, Pratham and told him to fix it or else he will have no dinner. I was dissapointed in my mother that I told her to sleep in the dogs’ bed outside. I was very surprised she listened then my dad Pratham was very angry at me for doing that he said he wasn’t going to smile for the rest of his life, and he still doesn’t smile… what a shame.
Hinge–a word to remind ourselves that things can go different ways, to remind ourselves that every day we swing in a balance which can let us fly upwards towards space’s limit or fling us into the ground to taste the earthy mud.
The door sat open on its hinges.
There was barely a crack, but light playfully splayed forth into my room.
I did not understand quite what I was seeing, yet this dancing fixture captivated me. I took a step towards the door…
And another step…
Wham!
The door slammed shut. I was left alone in the dark.
Neither of them expected it. Not one of them would have thought that both of them shared the same love for torturing small animals. They had found their hinge.
The edge of the thought hangs long and dangerously close. I feel as though I could merely step and I am walking on air. It whispers and winds through my mind, whispering like the serpent to Eve.
“Freedom”, it says,”freedom from attachments. No ties to people that only weigh you down. No logic that only serves to constrict your mind. Nothing. Just nothing.”
And my hand shakes as I unhinge the last bolt of sanity.
hinge like doorhinge as in what an orange? yeah that rhymes i got that from a show which i dont even remember, i carly? drake and josh? who knows, one of those shows. WOW that rhymes hahaha wtf amazing. anyways uh hinge like fringe is that even a word?
the door hinge is almost broken. the door is hanging on by a thread. when the door swings open, and then closed, the hinge is getting closer and closer to broken! we need new door hinges!!!
oh how you swing and creak, don’t land on my head as I reach inside to explore the treasures of the box … call me Pandora, or I will become unhinged, I always need to know, such curiosity cannot ever be satisfied
It was just an old door hinge. Rusted out and long past its prime, it no longer held its golden hue and creaked every time the door moved an inch. That door hinge saw a lot, though. It saw first dates, both good and bad, messy breakups and kisses that were exchanged quickly before the parents came out to check. It watched the kids grow up and leave for the last time. For a simple door hinge, it saw a lot.
Everything hinges in the balance of life. The door hinges creak when I open the door. They rattle when my students bang on the door of my classroom. Everything hinges on what I prepare for the day… all of my classes and students – their success depends on what I do. I am the hinge that holds my class together.
The hinges creaked as Mark lay his hand on the door. Swallowing back slight fears, Mark forced himself to reach his hand up and slide his fingers over the golden hinges holding the old door together. His breath caught in his throat as the door swayed, creaking terribly. With careful fingers, Mark reached for the top of the hinge.
“Release,” he whispered, and the bolt popped out into Mark’s hand. Only two more, and then he would be ready to go.
janice couldn’t believe her outburst at work. the events from last night had taken a toll on her. she was no longer composed and her persona had transformed from professional to crazy. she had become unhinged.. the hinge on the door that kept her private life separate was now dangling by the last thin line of respect.
back and forth, back and forth, back and forth and back again. we were like a hinge, never in the same place as before. and i loved it. but sometimes the hinge needs to be oiled in order to continue working the way it’s intended to. just a thought.
Hinges are the source of moving. They allow doors to open and close. They are the middle of the beginning and end. Hinges are the reason doors can open and close. Their significance is more important than the door itself. What are your hinges in life?
The hinge on the door, made a squeaking sound as she open it. It was after 3 in the morning. She was supposed to be home at 10 pm. Maybe, he wouldn’t wake up. But, she wouldn’t bet on it. He was a light sleeper.
I am a nut. Not a peanut or anything silly like that; no one is allergic to me or my scent! In fact, folks follow me around like ass on a fine female. I do not care, and everyone knows it. That seems to either entertain or turn folks on. I’m exciting like an explosion, or birth.
Way off the hinge. My jokes never are minute, and I am a big bad maaan
The squeaky door hinge was the first warning that set off all occupants in the old wooden cabin.
The sound of the rasping metal on the backdoor sent them all into a tizzy.
Well, everyone except Anabelle, who didn’t even pause as she hurriedly stuffed her hands into mittens and awkwardly wound a fat scarf ’round her little neck.
“Mummy, c’mon, Daddy’s out there!”
The grown-ups exchanged glances with the little girl of blue eyes and blue lips.
“I guess she’d know.” The old groundskeeper sighed, at last. “Not like I could pick out a frostman from a twitch.”
“Twatch.” The mother corrected and suppressed a shiver. “Twatch.”
When I arrived on the scene there was a siren going off in my head as I reached for the door. It was slanted like someone left a piece of it behind just for me to find.
I searched my brain in vain for the swear word I needed to express the searing pain the old hinge had caused upon pinching my finger.
A hinge is something that is on doors that annoys the fuck out of me because it squeaks oh so much and might make me kill a cat.
My world has become unhinged. The chemical bublbling its way up my veins. Its euphoric, and i have never seen myself so beautiful. What a drug.
The success of the entire project hinged on this one moment. This one decision. He could change the world, he knew. But for better or for worse?
Maybe yes, maybe no.
I hate this word, its the thing that makes your door open and close, my brother broke my hinges on my door by kicking them once, it was really awkward, kinda like my life… do you have an awkward life… i do. like, this senior likes me, i think, but im not really sure. what if he hates me? I’m so scared about my exams, oh wait HINGE! UM DOOR! I um don’t know. hahaha.
Sandy and I (and Deborah?) talked about the notion of poem as window, poem as door, and then I think we talked about the idea of a poem having a hinge. THat was cool. I love this word. The hinge is the thing that makes the turning possible, everything hinges on something else very cool.
it all hinges on my ability to turn on a dime… make it happen.. be resourceful. Exhausting. Can’t wait for the day when everything doesn’t have to be in limbo, when creativity s allowed to flow…
No clue what it is. Jumping on one leg? Reminds me of horse. Like a really horny horse. Eh.. That’s it.
Door hinges. No door can work without one. Some doors lead to happiness, others to uncertain feelings and horrible thoughts. Never turn your back on one door because another looks more exciting. Take life one door at a time and enjoy whatever you may find behind it. You never know what you’ll come across.
The hinges creaked as I tried to open the door as quietly as possible.
it all hinges on a thought, one thought that’s all. The difference between open en close minded is all hinged on one thought.
I’m swinging back and forth dangerously between one future I want for myself and another. I want to run away with the hippies. I want to walk the line between society and rejecting society. I want to blend in when I have to, I want to stay off the grid when I can. I want to be the hinge. I want to hold both of my prevalent faucets together.
Hallo, hallo….
What are you?
Am i waiting for something nice
or just wasting time?
A hinge is on a door,
It makes a door open close,
it helps it do things,
without it,
it won’t move,
stay up,
As the door to the cabin opened, I heard that hinge squeak like it always did when I was a kid. It used to make me think of ghosts. Now it makes me think of the ghosts of all those people I knew when I spent my summers here.
The hinge of a door is great. It makes creaking noises every time a door is opened. It has great uses for keeping things together and it is normally the colour gold-yellow.
I’ve finally let God repair the hinge on the door to my dreams, my destiny. He gave me the key, but reminded me to open the door at the right time; when He tells me to- not when I feel like it.
As he sat there trying to sit, he heard above the din of the room the squeak of a hinge. A barnyard door? A cabinet? Jensen couldn’t be sure, but he had a bad feeling, especially when he heard the loud, slow, heavy clumping of boots on the floor, which were coming toward him.
When my mom banged the door she broke the hinge of the door. My mom, Jann, called my dad, Pratham and told him to fix it or else he will have no dinner. I was dissapointed in my mother that I told her to sleep in the dogs’ bed outside. I was very surprised she listened then my dad Pratham was very angry at me for doing that he said he wasn’t going to smile for the rest of his life, and he still doesn’t smile… what a shame.
door hinges creak
as i tip toe past the door
into a new chapter
of life
unsure where to go.
Hinge–a word to remind ourselves that things can go different ways, to remind ourselves that every day we swing in a balance which can let us fly upwards towards space’s limit or fling us into the ground to taste the earthy mud.
Back and forth,
To and fro,
I’m not sure which way to go.
The door swings shut,
I say ‘oh no!’
I open it
Cuz this I know…
The hinge on the car has come lose. It’s about ready to fall off. Oh my. What will I do?
The door sat open on its hinges.
There was barely a crack, but light playfully splayed forth into my room.
I did not understand quite what I was seeing, yet this dancing fixture captivated me. I took a step towards the door…
And another step…
Wham!
The door slammed shut. I was left alone in the dark.
come unhinged
people always say that someone is coming unhinged when they mean that person is going mad, that they’re insane, that they’ve become a lunatic
but think about what it means to come unhinged. a door that is unhinged is free.