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the motor of her
roared after dusk.
the sound of
the engine fading
into the distance.
“i love you,” i said.
“i love me too.”
By ashley on 05.27.2017
things are ticking in my head,
a baton that travels
as if its past in a relay race.
migrating around my mind.
By beachbumrach URL on 05.27.2017
High motor type player. Guy’s got real hustle to him/ A real lunch pail first in first out type of guy. Gives his very all. At least he’ll sell you on it.
By MYOOHUANMEESD URL on 05.27.2017
Get your motor running, running.
Sometimes it takes just a little chant in the mornings to get yourself going.
Give yourself this pep talk if you have trouble getting started.
Go! Go! Go! Get your motor running, running!
By Lisa on 05.27.2017
Sitting there, quiet, sipping a drink and enjoying nature until.
Some jerk drives by with no muffler, going way too fast for the rural area.
By Neo URL on 05.27.2017
He was wearing cargo pants with a sea of oil dripping down the front. When he saw me he stood, wiping his grime covered hands with an old rag.
“You Ana?” he asks, his voice gruff and gravelly.
I look behind me nervously, wanting desperately to return to the safety of my car.
By Nasneen URL on 05.27.2017
Would you like to take a ride on the Mediterranean sea? On a motorboat for three, but just two is fine with me. We’ll have a picnic on the beach and a personal jubilee. I have everything prepared; all you have to do is agree.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 05.27.2017
fall with me
love is an accident
you wanted so badly
all the towering hours
to empty yourself into
galaxies of spreading stars
fingers I have ached for
find my face
as I trace
the handwork of god
swim across green pools
I am delivered
By minimalist URL on 05.27.2017
The revving motor reminded me of the good ol’ days. Me on the back of the motorcycle strolling down the beach. It was beautiful ,oh the summer days I miss .
By Jaylen on 05.27.2017
The motor in the car was doing fine, the little girl was very pleased. Until the motor all of a sudden stopped. The little girl looked at her older sister frighten. The older sister could seen her little sister was scared so she told her “don’t worry, it’ll be okay.”
By jaycee on 05.27.2017
in a tracter i have to fix my motor because i ran over my cat’s chicken doll
By Eric on 05.27.2017
Get my motor going. I pulled, tug-tug-tug… dead. Pull! tug-tug-tug…dead.
What is wrong with this thing? Is the blade too high? am I pushing it too hard? Gas…maybe it’s out of gas! But what kind of gas? Where do I get gas?
By Susannah URL on 05.27.2017
churning engine, riffs of waves and skis upturned and boats and wrecks and gulls cry overhead, pulling at the string, kicking the wheels that turn, upturn, downturn, mouth that won’t stop spilling with words, churning, running out, emptying, emptied out, motor dead
By Daisy King URL on 05.27.2017
They call me Motor Mouth. I talk a blue streak. I spout cliches like a water fountain. People run to the hills when they see me walk by. I’m bursting at the seams with verbal energy. Is it any wonder I am what I am? I’m Roget’s daughter. A woman (adult, female, damsel, lady, matron, maiden, maid) who speaks in synonyms.
By Joanna Bressler on 05.27.2017
the motor was running, it had been for the last half hour as he waited patiently, perhaps too patiently for her to walk out of the motel room door. it was a drab place, hardly suitable for human occupancy. They went there anyway.
By Derek on 05.27.2017
He could hear it nearing the dock from around the bend in the river, faint at first, like the incessant flies doing loop-de-loops around his head and biting every inch of skin he had. But the sound was growing, gradually but at an almost-alarming rate. Then the motorboat came into view, and he realized there was no one driving.
By Courka URL on 05.27.2017
Motors are mechanical devices that rotate in order to generate power – power that lights our homes, and brings economic growth and opportunities.
By Trushna on 05.27.2017
Her breath spread throughout her body, her heart moving slowly ant first then revving like an engine. She gasped feeling the warm honey glow of her blood beginning to circulate throughout her veins again. She was alive.
By TheAIndex URL on 05.27.2017
O motor tinha parado. Era isso, não tinha mais jeito. A garota de cabelos loiros suspirou, olhando incrédula para seu carro novo. Quais eram as chances disso acontecer? Ela apostaria que próximas de zero.
Lei de Murphy.
By Nope on 05.27.2017
SO I am confused about what this is and the purpose. But I landed to this website and it asked me to write something about a word that will appear, for sixty seconds I guess.
By dsfsf URL on 05.28.2017
this is a word that you usually don’t get to hear in your day to day’s life; unless you are a mechanic that is.
By sushree mohapatra on 05.28.2017
running close to too many fucking rpms how did he not know. PABST BLUE FUCKING RIBBON. The testosterone revs the candy cane mans hands and the motor responds again. In blue velvet
By 1000 splinters on 05.28.2017
I had to motor to the coast so that I could catch up to him. He was way ahead of me and I knew I would have to find a short cut to get there. He had alluded me and it had taken great detective work to find where he had escaped to. It was all up to me.
By Julie on 05.28.2017
In miles driven: so many i can’t count.
in accidents: endlessly hit from behind by drivers who fell asleep at the wheel, drivers who were checking on an address in the passenger seat, and drivers who were driving recklessly behind me and I didn’t think to pull over and get out of the way.
new cars needed after accidents: two.
cars needing extensive repairs after accidents: four
then there was the time i went under one freeway while exiting another and a pick-up truck dropped a big load of logs and garbage on my car, shattering the front window. oh right, that was one of the two cars needing replacement rather than simply repairs.
and all that time, not one of the motors gave out.
i suppose i should count myself lucky.
and i do.
By Joanna Bressler on 05.28.2017
motor cars, vehicles
storms in cars that my father is driving
that I am driving
rain obscures, I cannot see?
darkness, even brights cannot penetrate
black dark thick forests, country roads
motor cross vehicles, manslaughter
road against skin
all goes back to
By Faith Tipton on 05.28.2017
Smoke was pouring out of the motor. She lifted the bonnet of the old holden and just stared, bewildered. She was out in the middle of nowhere it was miles to the next town.
By Angela URL on 05.28.2017
a motor can fuel many things like cars and planes a motor you would not want a rusty old one that would not make your car go far.
By littleawesomepie URL on 05.28.2017
the boat’s motor stalled and began to coast
as I was below her throat
practicing my motor boat
By omqwat URL on 05.28.2017
With a shuddering groan, the engine sprung to life. “There,” she said, standing up straight and tucking a stray curl behind her headscarf. “Just the carbarettor, an easy fix.” The man in the driver’s seat gaped at her. The bright pink lipstick was so at odds with the oil on her hands!
By Archanza URL on 05.28.2017
As I sat in the Cold seat waiting to go…so excited to go. But I couldn’t because I knew it was wrong and I’m a new person now.
By NannerTulip URL on 05.28.2017
Motor skills are interesting, perhaps the most interesting thing about humans. Possibly what separates us from the rest of those animals.
By Christopher Hendrickson on 05.28.2017
You’ve been through a lot, miles and hills and snow and years. I try to take care like I promised. You’re doing your best so I will, too. I try. It’s so easy to fall into comfort, falling into auto-pilot in between white lines, only snapping to when they get too close. The engine strains at the regular speeds but continues on; such a familiar hum of stupid determination I can’t help but give a small pat to its flimsy plastic insides. Sitting here feels normal, feels right, and my lack of fear is what frightens me the most. Mistakes so easily slip over white lines when you no longer fear them; the feeling of your skin turning stone under the surface and clenched teeth are what keep you at the right speed, in the appropriate place. I know my hand is not on the right spot of the wheel, but it feels right.
But with tests to pass, every detail is scrutinized. I move back to the ridged, correct position, and find myself slumping again before I realize. The engine chugs, disapproval. It’s trying so hard, why aren’t I? I tried hard once; does it remember, and cry out in disappointment? I can’t bring my hands to proper 10 and 2; I can’t bring them to do anything proper. I blink, double one-way lanes melting into a two-way road squeezed into one lane, no lines to stay within. If there’s another car, I pull aside, I always pull aside; yet now I sit firmly in the middle of the road, slow roll, not sure how to move aside enough to be passed by.
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