I think of mud masks and fun beauty products. And also my friend who had a friend with the last name mud. And just cutesy things like cartoons and stuff.
filled the jars that Claire had set out the night before. She had hoped to see sprouts from the apple seeds she’d planted, but who would’ve thought rain when the sky had been so blue?
One day, there was a hippo in the mud. He was covered from head to toe. A monkey fell in the mud with him, and the hippo opened his mouth to eat him. When the monkey saw this, he shoved some mud down the hippo’s throat, choking him and climbed onto its head, where he escaped harm.
I was running, kicking up dirt and water and mud. I was running away from my past, from my future, from you. I just wanted to leave this place, and the mud was trying to weigh me down; trying to convince me that I wouldn’t go.
I trudged through the gross, sticky mud. I accidentaly flicked some onto his leg. mistake. he threw some at me and i at him, by the end of the fight we were both brown covered in mud. I had to meet his parents like this?
Mud in my ears, up to my ears and in them, and not a mud flap in sight. I can’t flap my ears. What the hell am I supposed to do with mud in my ears? I think there’s some in my eyes, too. Damn.
The stick brown substance covered him entirely. I saw bits of rocks, sticks and many other things one might find on the ground, even a feather on his knee.
He proudly held up his completed mudpie, a smilyface fromed by small white stones and formed into a heart shape.
Happy birthday to me.
The ground was wet and cold beneath her bare feet, squishing in between her toes and making her want to cringe. As she walked forward one, two steps she could feel how uneven and unstable the dirt beneath her really was. Rain, she decided, was bad not only because of how wet it was when it fell, but because of what it did to everything else.
Mud, mud, glorious mud, nothing quite like it for cooling the blood, so follow me, follow, down to the hollow, and there we will wallow in glor-or-orious mud.
She slowly sat up. The mud was sticking to her hair and making it clump down her back. Her unruly mane made her look like a force to be recken with, even if she was only 13. The rain drops were starting to cloud her vision.
We were rolling around in the mud, giggling. I was dirtier than I had ever been, and he was grinning at me with that gorgeous white smile, his blue eyes shining from behind a layer of dirt. I woke up with smile on my face and tears in my eyes.
One step and you will sink. Down under. To the world of unknown. It will gobble you up. It’s okay, everybody’s scared of things that they don’t remember… even if it’s not their first time. Even if their soul remembers every time.
It was the end of another long, summer day. Carol couldn’t think of anything she would rather do then sit in the mud that had formed from the afternoon storm. And wait for her to come back.
The mud was sticking to the bottom of my boots. There was so. much. mud. But I was so happy to be at Coachella. The music was blasting, all the tents were full. I was standing back stage with a huge smile on my face and an all access pass around my neck. So the mud was , at most, an afterthought.
I pull and tug but my feet won’t budge. The goo fills around me. I struggle to be free. When suddenly there is he. He pulls me from this mud, from this mess and draws me into him.
The essence of problems. Truly, this sludgy brown substance is the source of all chaos: back in the frontier days, it smothered horses and trapped beaten wagons. It frustrated the pioneers and today leaves us scratching our heads and wondering why such an ugly matter is on this green planet.
its one of those interesting things
reminds me
reminds me of a child of neverland
i met in the woods
her face was covered with mud
and her eyes mud too
her name was lily
and she called herself
pan
The books flew in every direction as she slammed into the dirt, the pedals of her bike still spinning. Some passerby laughed at her but even if he gave a look of sympathy, her math homework would never be the same.
the muddy water looked as if it were made for pigs. muddy water is just a confusing phrase. because mud is already dirty sand. muddy water? that must be some dirty water. i don’t understand.
She sat crying by the puddle, dirtied from head to toe. “I hate you Robbie!” she screamed for the fourth time that day. Slowly she stood up and marched into the house for a change of clothes. As she rounded the corner she noticed his bedroom door was open and his frog was awake. She knew just how she would pay her older brother back.
It coated him like a bridesmaid dress. Tonight wasn’t the night though, his lover had left him with a stack of dirty laundry and a mosquito’s nest. Quiet, the bear lifted a table cloth. And that man on the corner states that hot dogs tastes like sewer.
Mixture or dirt and water. Messy. Kids usually eat it, because it looks like chocolate, or pudding. Who knows what they’re really thinking when they do it.
dirty, gross, dont want it on my skin. dont want to step in it. dont like the color of it, reminds me of chocolate milk that i dont want to drink. mudslides, like a landlide but worse.
Mud has such a negative connotation. Its amazing really. Calling someone a dirt bag isn’t as bad as saying “your name is mud.” and all it takes is the application of water.
sticky, wet, brown and dirty but it can be fun to play in. Mud can also be used for facials. It’s a beauty treatment.
mmm mud slides, mud wars, mud baths, mud pies! ahhh i love playing in the mud its super fun and it gives you soft skin! natural expholiant!!!! <3
I think of mud masks and fun beauty products. And also my friend who had a friend with the last name mud. And just cutesy things like cartoons and stuff.
Feeling the mud between my toes.. feeling ooohhh sooo gooey. I meant to jump in the puddle and got stuck in the mud when I jumped to hard.
filled the jars that Claire had set out the night before. She had hoped to see sprouts from the apple seeds she’d planted, but who would’ve thought rain when the sky had been so blue?
stuck in a mire … creative flow ceases to exists … viscosity holds back the thoughts
Mud. The one thing that either destroys or creates. Frolicking. Splashing. Building. Laughing.
One day, there was a hippo in the mud. He was covered from head to toe. A monkey fell in the mud with him, and the hippo opened his mouth to eat him. When the monkey saw this, he shoved some mud down the hippo’s throat, choking him and climbed onto its head, where he escaped harm.
I was stuck in the mud. I cannot move, I can not stand up. But a hand pulled me up. He rescued me. He became my hero.
I was running, kicking up dirt and water and mud. I was running away from my past, from my future, from you. I just wanted to leave this place, and the mud was trying to weigh me down; trying to convince me that I wouldn’t go.
I trudged through the gross, sticky mud. I accidentaly flicked some onto his leg. mistake. he threw some at me and i at him, by the end of the fight we were both brown covered in mud. I had to meet his parents like this?
Mud in my ears, up to my ears and in them, and not a mud flap in sight. I can’t flap my ears. What the hell am I supposed to do with mud in my ears? I think there’s some in my eyes, too. Damn.
staying out of the puddle
hiding from the rain
staying in a huddle
keeping out the mud is a pain.
The stick brown substance covered him entirely. I saw bits of rocks, sticks and many other things one might find on the ground, even a feather on his knee.
He proudly held up his completed mudpie, a smilyface fromed by small white stones and formed into a heart shape.
Happy birthday to me.
The ground was wet and cold beneath her bare feet, squishing in between her toes and making her want to cringe. As she walked forward one, two steps she could feel how uneven and unstable the dirt beneath her really was. Rain, she decided, was bad not only because of how wet it was when it fell, but because of what it did to everything else.
Mud, mud, glorious mud, nothing quite like it for cooling the blood, so follow me, follow, down to the hollow, and there we will wallow in glor-or-orious mud.
She slowly sat up. The mud was sticking to her hair and making it clump down her back. Her unruly mane made her look like a force to be recken with, even if she was only 13. The rain drops were starting to cloud her vision.
We were rolling around in the mud, giggling. I was dirtier than I had ever been, and he was grinning at me with that gorgeous white smile, his blue eyes shining from behind a layer of dirt. I woke up with smile on my face and tears in my eyes.
One step and you will sink. Down under. To the world of unknown. It will gobble you up. It’s okay, everybody’s scared of things that they don’t remember… even if it’s not their first time. Even if their soul remembers every time.
It was the end of another long, summer day. Carol couldn’t think of anything she would rather do then sit in the mud that had formed from the afternoon storm. And wait for her to come back.
The mud was sticking to the bottom of my boots. There was so. much. mud. But I was so happy to be at Coachella. The music was blasting, all the tents were full. I was standing back stage with a huge smile on my face and an all access pass around my neck. So the mud was , at most, an afterthought.
I pull and tug but my feet won’t budge. The goo fills around me. I struggle to be free. When suddenly there is he. He pulls me from this mud, from this mess and draws me into him.
the barenaked baby child plays in the mud
his family watch him, seeing an adorable baby girl
he is, but one day he will change
such is the life of nudists with a transsexual child
The essence of problems. Truly, this sludgy brown substance is the source of all chaos: back in the frontier days, it smothered horses and trapped beaten wagons. It frustrated the pioneers and today leaves us scratching our heads and wondering why such an ugly matter is on this green planet.
its one of those interesting things
reminds me
reminds me of a child of neverland
i met in the woods
her face was covered with mud
and her eyes mud too
her name was lily
and she called herself
pan
The books flew in every direction as she slammed into the dirt, the pedals of her bike still spinning. Some passerby laughed at her but even if he gave a look of sympathy, her math homework would never be the same.
the muddy water looked as if it were made for pigs. muddy water is just a confusing phrase. because mud is already dirty sand. muddy water? that must be some dirty water. i don’t understand.
Wet dirt.
She sat crying by the puddle, dirtied from head to toe. “I hate you Robbie!” she screamed for the fourth time that day. Slowly she stood up and marched into the house for a change of clothes. As she rounded the corner she noticed his bedroom door was open and his frog was awake. She knew just how she would pay her older brother back.
murky soil mixed with water; rain makes the roads muddy; a walk in rains gets mud on the dress.
It coated him like a bridesmaid dress. Tonight wasn’t the night though, his lover had left him with a stack of dirty laundry and a mosquito’s nest. Quiet, the bear lifted a table cloth. And that man on the corner states that hot dogs tastes like sewer.
something slipped out from my lips,
and that was that.
words turned to mud,
sentences leapt
and crashed
where nothing lives.
what to write
when there’s nothing left
to say?
Dirty in my mind but whatsoever isn’t really but a part of one’s life… can’t do away with it anyway.
Mixture or dirt and water. Messy. Kids usually eat it, because it looks like chocolate, or pudding. Who knows what they’re really thinking when they do it.
I fell in the mud today… The dirt and grime suffocated me. Help. Can you?
slimy fun sliding. dirty. wrestling. cross-country. barefoot. squishy. jump around in. playful
dirty, gross, dont want it on my skin. dont want to step in it. dont like the color of it, reminds me of chocolate milk that i dont want to drink. mudslides, like a landlide but worse.
i like mud it fun to play in. It makes me think of pigs and pies and childhood. I’d enjoy a mud bath with lots of people and strippers.
Mud has such a negative connotation. Its amazing really. Calling someone a dirt bag isn’t as bad as saying “your name is mud.” and all it takes is the application of water.
“Remember when we used to dance and shake our butts when the P.A system would announce which homeroom won the daily homeroom contest?” I nudged Ali.
“I didn’t shake my ass, but I do remember that.”
“That was so fun.” I said. “But getting thrown into the mud by a woman I’ve only known for a few days beats it, hands down.”