Today I was metered. Sounds a bit dirty. But nope not today. I was struck by the meter maid and faced a $33 ticket on the windshield of my little red car. I deserved it, I went over my time. But it was the
The careful measure of words in time, hanging in the air like honeyed flies trapped in amber. Her voice calls to me from across the chasm of time. Still youthful, hopeful, breaking at the edges, as it was then. Time wears away on her body and its songs of today, but yesterday will always be yesterday.
The water is metered at the front of our home. A couple of times in the past few months I’ve seen a guy kneeling down near the water meter right near our front door. I never really noticed the water meter was there in the first place. I always thought it was on the side of the house. The guy scared me the first time; I judged quickly, wondering what he was doing and why he was so close to my home. I have wondered a couple of times why they put the meter so close to my front door in such a strange place.
The time was metered. I had one hour on my dollar to get in and out. This wouldn’t take one hour. I was breaking someone’s heart. I was heading into this restaurant to tell a woman I loved that I couldn’t marry her. She didn’t know the other side of me, couldn’t know. I wouldn’t let her. She’d lose her love for me completely. Lose her respect. This was is better for the both of us. It’s the only way I can possibly see it going.
The desintegrating car sat on the side of the unused road, metered of course, in the city that never slept. At least, there was never a moment when a person could think that people were asleep. This city, much like those of the ancient citys of the old United States, just kept on rolling through the night, with alerts and sirens and emergency hovers blaring round the clock.
Our lives are metered. What I mean to say is that Happiness and gratefulnesss. Is metered. By Us. And you can have as much or as little as you want in your life…its all up to you…
The water in the house was metered. Not free. They charge you for every pint you pour. I meant that’s just not right. Water should be free. It’s essential for life. If I want to pay for water I’ll pop down to the shops and buy a bottle of Perrier. The water meter meant I crossed that house off our list.
The teacher droned on in metered tones discussing the fine differences between european coffee and Colombian coffee, as if any one cared. It was a history class for goodness sakes, not a guide to fine dining class for old farts.
It was a metered step. Each foot placed delicately, precisely, where desired. It seemed as if he danced with an invisible partner as he navigated the street. Or perhaps it was something more sinister?
Metered, an unknown word I have no time to define. Born of some imagination, somewhere, from some time, out of a need for the word. I wonder who first used it?
Her patience for cheating was metered. There was only so much of the horrid act that she could put up with until she drew the line. And he was close to crossing that line.
Why is everything so measured, time weight, clarity. You know? What happened to living like wed live forever? Now we live life on a meter long leash, afraid to live and last,
Timing. Measurement. Management. Here’s a 2 by 4. Here’s an 8 x10. Here’s a set of words to drop in from beginning to end. It may or may not work depending on context. Depending on southern twang versus received pronunciation. Depending on quickness and comprehensiveness to the subject at hand. In that case, take 2 by 4 and smash 8×10 and start over again until you create a picture worth 1000 more words of your verse.
Try as the she may but the students could not understand that you could measure distance in meters. What is the purpose of the metered when we already have inches and feet?
And as he let out his last breath, he wished he could see her dance for the last time. Dance to the tune of his heartbeats and feel his love for her before he bid adieu. His heart metered its last beats and he gradually slipped into eternal peace.
Gerry was hoping the response to the incident would be metered, and not like the total lockdown they had the previous year. As he drove up the hill towards the school compound, he was passed by several police vehicles, so it looked like the situation was already escalating out of control.
His response was surprisingly metered. The coffee was steaming, you could tell it was hot. It ran down his shirt. He didn’t scream, he didn’t cry, but you could tell how mad he was.
“The meter wasn’t even working! Look, when I got here, there was a bag over it. You can’t give me a ticket if the meter is broken. … What do you mean they fixed it while I was parked?! So, you are going to charge me even though it was… Look, you seem like a reasonable person and this is obviously a ridiculous situation. So, what do you say? Help a girl out?”
it’s a music school down the street
next to the acupuncture house
and sometimes the lights are on and
i can see kids, adults
people holding violins and
smiling in the amber colored light
looking proud to have learned
something that day
while i’m getting in my car
pinholes red on my arms
trying to recenter myself
wishing i was joining a band
instead of just waking up from
an indulgent midday nap
paid for by my employer
my insurance company
my ambition
My time is over I’m all metered out.
Tired of the frustrations of the day and feelings I have endured.
Now to relax and sleep in the full glory of my bed.
My limbs comfortable and streched.
The End
her lips have markings
each line
her breaths measure the miles
she has to go before
she can ever say that she is home
and her eyes measure
case us all
tell us our dimensions
numbers and words
i realize i prefer the word unmetered. i’d rather not be measured or quantified. While i do find slight comfort in supervision, “metered” feels too close to clostripobia. The word sounds in my mind and suddenly i need to stretch. It feels like a trap or a set up. Guideance is replaced with resriction; and punishment is dangled and as a reminder. already i feel my contempt rising, breading lawlessness and dismay. arbitrary standards will never motivate as much as an atmosphere of support and trust. it actually encourges a rebellion that otherwise would never exist.
Ends with red. Personally, i dont consider this a beautiful word. I wouldnt consider any word Beautiful. They are just letters. The meaning is what counts
At length I believe in the ways and rule
measured spaces and depths
taken with care and detail
for the sake to know how
and knowing how far
we take and we need
the distance we’ve come and
the distance to go
what does this even me? Its like a parking meter and the colour red. A red parking meter. It’s angry. You didn’t pay your money bitch, you can’t park here. TAKE YOUR DAMN CAR OUTTA MA SPACE HOE. Fucks sake. London these days.
Metered reminds me of a meter maid. Or a European version of measurement. That’s about it. What the hell kind of word is metered? why is that the suggestion? I bet everyone else’s writing is better about metered. I want a new word. Metered metered metered metered metered metered.
What is that? The word reminds me of meteor. I think meteors are cool. I use a meter for my diabetes. I prick my finger and squeeze it to get the blood to come out. Then I take a blood strip out of the small bottle and insert it into the left side of my meter. Next, I take the blood drop from my finger and I hold it up against the blood strip and the strip sucks up the blood. The blood strip takes the blood and calibrates it inside the meter. The meter tells me what my blood sugar is at the moment.
Her day was already shit and it was only 9am. The only thought in her head as she stormed out the office. The meeting had run way over it’s set time and she knew that bitch Bertha probably had stayed right by her car and wrote up a ticket for each minute that passed.
Measured and kept track of like bing followed everywhere you go hwo knows what you will find when you go thre. I have always wondered what was beyond h maze in the puzzle books anywhere at all LIfe is just a bunch of words on paper and don’t seemn to mean much else at all as to anything well metered is the cab that is taking you to the airport te doctors, nor the florest. What does anybody inow about anonther person what do they know about the lenght of orur lives are they metered like that taxi are they metered like the gas or electricity theat flows inot our home can it just be turned off at a spicgot or will something else happen when we try? I do not know where I am goin g i’m lost in this sense fo being out of everything and scared of the univrse I don’t know when my 60 seconds end nothing seems to be telling me that what number of words aam I expected to find and where am I going with anything that is here?
Each family was given a metered amount of water, and it wasn’t much to pass the week. Rationing was a top priority, and that meant that children had to stay inside for most of the day, because running around in the heat would make them more dehydrated. I passed each bucket and jug to each group, wishing I could offer more. But the drought had taken its toll, and if we weren’t careful, come the end of the summer, the entire area would have to be evacuated and abandoned, rendering it a ghost town.
It was rhythmic. Listening to the sound of the machine blipping in it’s cadenced pattern was almost hypnotic. As my eyes fluttered open and closed I felt a sort of peace wash over me. It was too late to struggle, so I gave in to the soothing sounds, and faded away. And so the beeping ceased.
Today I was metered. Sounds a bit dirty. But nope not today. I was struck by the meter maid and faced a $33 ticket on the windshield of my little red car. I deserved it, I went over my time. But it was the
The space between them had been divided up and sectioned, square upon square of metred tarmac and red and white tape.
The careful measure of words in time, hanging in the air like honeyed flies trapped in amber. Her voice calls to me from across the chasm of time. Still youthful, hopeful, breaking at the edges, as it was then. Time wears away on her body and its songs of today, but yesterday will always be yesterday.
i dont know what this word means!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The world is metered! I don’t know why I’m doing this
The water is metered at the front of our home. A couple of times in the past few months I’ve seen a guy kneeling down near the water meter right near our front door. I never really noticed the water meter was there in the first place. I always thought it was on the side of the house. The guy scared me the first time; I judged quickly, wondering what he was doing and why he was so close to my home. I have wondered a couple of times why they put the meter so close to my front door in such a strange place.
The time was metered. I had one hour on my dollar to get in and out. This wouldn’t take one hour. I was breaking someone’s heart. I was heading into this restaurant to tell a woman I loved that I couldn’t marry her. She didn’t know the other side of me, couldn’t know. I wouldn’t let her. She’d lose her love for me completely. Lose her respect. This was is better for the both of us. It’s the only way I can possibly see it going.
The desintegrating car sat on the side of the unused road, metered of course, in the city that never slept. At least, there was never a moment when a person could think that people were asleep. This city, much like those of the ancient citys of the old United States, just kept on rolling through the night, with alerts and sirens and emergency hovers blaring round the clock.
Our lives are metered. What I mean to say is that Happiness and gratefulnesss. Is metered. By Us. And you can have as much or as little as you want in your life…its all up to you…
Eh, I got nothing….
The water in the house was metered. Not free. They charge you for every pint you pour. I meant that’s just not right. Water should be free. It’s essential for life. If I want to pay for water I’ll pop down to the shops and buy a bottle of Perrier. The water meter meant I crossed that house off our list.
The teacher droned on in metered tones discussing the fine differences between european coffee and Colombian coffee, as if any one cared. It was a history class for goodness sakes, not a guide to fine dining class for old farts.
It was a metered step. Each foot placed delicately, precisely, where desired. It seemed as if he danced with an invisible partner as he navigated the street. Or perhaps it was something more sinister?
Metered, an unknown word I have no time to define. Born of some imagination, somewhere, from some time, out of a need for the word. I wonder who first used it?
Her patience for cheating was metered. There was only so much of the horrid act that she could put up with until she drew the line. And he was close to crossing that line.
Why is everything so measured, time weight, clarity. You know? What happened to living like wed live forever? Now we live life on a meter long leash, afraid to live and last,
Timing. Measurement. Management. Here’s a 2 by 4. Here’s an 8 x10. Here’s a set of words to drop in from beginning to end. It may or may not work depending on context. Depending on southern twang versus received pronunciation. Depending on quickness and comprehensiveness to the subject at hand. In that case, take 2 by 4 and smash 8×10 and start over again until you create a picture worth 1000 more words of your verse.
Try as the she may but the students could not understand that you could measure distance in meters. What is the purpose of the metered when we already have inches and feet?
And as he let out his last breath, he wished he could see her dance for the last time. Dance to the tune of his heartbeats and feel his love for her before he bid adieu. His heart metered its last beats and he gradually slipped into eternal peace.
Gerry was hoping the response to the incident would be metered, and not like the total lockdown they had the previous year. As he drove up the hill towards the school compound, he was passed by several police vehicles, so it looked like the situation was already escalating out of control.
His response was surprisingly metered. The coffee was steaming, you could tell it was hot. It ran down his shirt. He didn’t scream, he didn’t cry, but you could tell how mad he was.
“The meter wasn’t even working! Look, when I got here, there was a bag over it. You can’t give me a ticket if the meter is broken. … What do you mean they fixed it while I was parked?! So, you are going to charge me even though it was… Look, you seem like a reasonable person and this is obviously a ridiculous situation. So, what do you say? Help a girl out?”
it’s a music school down the street
next to the acupuncture house
and sometimes the lights are on and
i can see kids, adults
people holding violins and
smiling in the amber colored light
looking proud to have learned
something that day
while i’m getting in my car
pinholes red on my arms
trying to recenter myself
wishing i was joining a band
instead of just waking up from
an indulgent midday nap
paid for by my employer
my insurance company
my ambition
Κάθε στιγμή που περνάει, μετριέται. Μετριέται μ’ ένα βάρος που την μια στιγμή είναι ασήκωτο και την άλλη, ελαφρύ σαν πούπουλο.
My time is over I’m all metered out.
Tired of the frustrations of the day and feelings I have endured.
Now to relax and sleep in the full glory of my bed.
My limbs comfortable and streched.
The End
metered
her lips have markings
each line
her breaths measure the miles
she has to go before
she can ever say that she is home
and her eyes measure
case us all
tell us our dimensions
numbers and words
i realize i prefer the word unmetered. i’d rather not be measured or quantified. While i do find slight comfort in supervision, “metered” feels too close to clostripobia. The word sounds in my mind and suddenly i need to stretch. It feels like a trap or a set up. Guideance is replaced with resriction; and punishment is dangled and as a reminder. already i feel my contempt rising, breading lawlessness and dismay. arbitrary standards will never motivate as much as an atmosphere of support and trust. it actually encourges a rebellion that otherwise would never exist.
Ends with red. Personally, i dont consider this a beautiful word. I wouldnt consider any word Beautiful. They are just letters. The meaning is what counts
At length I believe in the ways and rule
measured spaces and depths
taken with care and detail
for the sake to know how
and knowing how far
we take and we need
the distance we’ve come and
the distance to go
what does this even me? Its like a parking meter and the colour red. A red parking meter. It’s angry. You didn’t pay your money bitch, you can’t park here. TAKE YOUR DAMN CAR OUTTA MA SPACE HOE. Fucks sake. London these days.
Metered reminds me of a meter maid. Or a European version of measurement. That’s about it. What the hell kind of word is metered? why is that the suggestion? I bet everyone else’s writing is better about metered. I want a new word. Metered metered metered metered metered metered.
What is that? The word reminds me of meteor. I think meteors are cool. I use a meter for my diabetes. I prick my finger and squeeze it to get the blood to come out. Then I take a blood strip out of the small bottle and insert it into the left side of my meter. Next, I take the blood drop from my finger and I hold it up against the blood strip and the strip sucks up the blood. The blood strip takes the blood and calibrates it inside the meter. The meter tells me what my blood sugar is at the moment.
I look to the back of the steering wheel and found that my car was logged and metered. whut i don’t know what to do
To measure in terms of volume, length, etc. poetry stances or music lines. the distance of a marathon. to be stuck in time
Metered. length. distance. a measurement. fuck this word.
You can measure the distance between each letter with an e.
Her day was already shit and it was only 9am. The only thought in her head as she stormed out the office. The meeting had run way over it’s set time and she knew that bitch Bertha probably had stayed right by her car and wrote up a ticket for each minute that passed.
Measured and kept track of like bing followed everywhere you go hwo knows what you will find when you go thre. I have always wondered what was beyond h maze in the puzzle books anywhere at all LIfe is just a bunch of words on paper and don’t seemn to mean much else at all as to anything well metered is the cab that is taking you to the airport te doctors, nor the florest. What does anybody inow about anonther person what do they know about the lenght of orur lives are they metered like that taxi are they metered like the gas or electricity theat flows inot our home can it just be turned off at a spicgot or will something else happen when we try? I do not know where I am goin g i’m lost in this sense fo being out of everything and scared of the univrse I don’t know when my 60 seconds end nothing seems to be telling me that what number of words aam I expected to find and where am I going with anything that is here?
Each family was given a metered amount of water, and it wasn’t much to pass the week. Rationing was a top priority, and that meant that children had to stay inside for most of the day, because running around in the heat would make them more dehydrated. I passed each bucket and jug to each group, wishing I could offer more. But the drought had taken its toll, and if we weren’t careful, come the end of the summer, the entire area would have to be evacuated and abandoned, rendering it a ghost town.
It was rhythmic. Listening to the sound of the machine blipping in it’s cadenced pattern was almost hypnotic. As my eyes fluttered open and closed I felt a sort of peace wash over me. It was too late to struggle, so I gave in to the soothing sounds, and faded away. And so the beeping ceased.
accentual rhythm, syllabic quantity