oak is waht mum said brandy tasted like. i tried some, and it tasted like shit. but i kept drinking it, when she was out of the house. they say all that stuff about alcohol, like vanilla notes and all that crap, but i think once you’re off your facce it doesn’t actually mater so much, just the insatiable need for more and more until you chuck. i don’t know WHY people drink, i don’t know why i do. human nature, i guess.
its brown and a tree and its wonderful and the leaves are red and its sturdy. i can’t be anything like it. i can’t blow away with the wind. or let the wind blow me away. i must be strong and sturdy and stationary. and i can’t feel. i can’t move. I can’t run or blow.
i think it is the sturdiest of wood. it is beautiful in tables and it makes me feel super happy when i smell it as a car freshner. i love oak, however the more and more i think about it i realize that oak does not love me. so many people know oak, and oak knows so many people. isn’t it obvious? this thing is one sided and always will be.
He glanced around furtively for a second before depositing his note into the knot of the old oak tree by the playground. He was pretty sure he’d shaken off anyone who might’ve been following. He’d been like Billy from Family Circus! Hands in his pockets, he strolled away, whistling. Being a spy sure was fun!
A bitter wind swept through the hollow oak trees that lay ashen grey, barren from the raging fires that had consumed the land. Teetering on the edge of a cliff, he stood. Valiantly. And fell. Down the ravine. Down the cliff. Down, to hell.
the mighty oak stood proud in the same place for one hundred years. it saw childhoods end in laughter and tears. it witnessed first loves and heartfelt goodbyes. and was torn down for concrete and steel
The tall oak tree stood in the middle of the park for almost 70 years. It is a great memorial for our family – as my great-great grandfather planted it there when he first moved to town here. I’m going to try my best and fight for that park and our tree – the local government wants to pull it all down and put a huge mall in there instead.
the oak tree outside my window is so beautiful in the fall. the colors changing from green to red and orange and yellow are so breath taking i sometimes find myself just staring outside the window and daydreaming. one day i will be like a leaf on the wind. and i will be happy
a big tree of romantic stature. the oak and the owl are synonymous with one another. it’s so dark and wonderful. a great shady place to think. i love oaks.
There was a huge oak tree on the school campus. I would describe it further if I could but there was simply nothing more to say. There was a brick arch too, a crumbling but very well made archway just beneath it, it rose up to meet the oak, an ancient reach.
oak…. thats a weird word… All I’m thinking about is the woods… And faeries… Its simple really… I’m like a fairy in the wrong forest… I don’t belong here… the magic is gone and I have no other place to go.
you cast a shade over me;
sunk your roots in my soul,
and wrapped them to the bone.
your leaves are dead in
the autumn sun,
but you keep coming back
like the season’s solstice.
I cut you down to save myself,
so you could seed your own world.
I may have saved us both the strain
but I can’t forget, the roots remain.
I climbed an oak tree once. I climbed it again three years later. I found it a lot easier to climb because it was just a stump. I wondered what happened – ALL OF A SUDDEN I HEARD A VOICE! “It’s oak-ay, Troy.”
Breath. Relax. Rest your body under this grand oak tree—the chief of this ancient forest. Rest under it’s awe inspiring presence that holds you precisely in this moment while insttilling the essence of your ancestors in your Spirit.
i lived under the old oak tree. it was the best thing you could have ever think of. it was big and brown and it was perfect to climb. I collected the acorns for my sling shot and they were perfect.
Professor Oak is he who orchestrates all that occurs in the Pokemon games. I know him so well. He’s so important to my life that the second thing I think of after seeing the word “oak” is Pokemon(after trees, thankfully). How could a mere game have made such an impact on me, my stream of thoughts, and society in general? Awe inspiring, I swear.
This is a tree…mostly a large tree. I don’t really care about large Oak trees, but it seems as though they produce a lot of paper. We could probably save these trees if we didn’t cut them down to make paper…we could make really nice Oak bed posts instead. Good Idea.
as i sat at the roots of the oak tree i stand to pound has this tree stood here for ages. or has the oak tree lived a short life as i pondered still i went home to my oak wood table and wrote a note to my love.
tree i think of an oak tree, possibly a table made out of oak, i think that is also the type of table that saved hitler from the bomb in the movie valkerie, i would like an oak table that would be cool, it would be strong and sturdy, thinking of trees reminds me of biology, when we had to draw a tree and it told us stuff about ourse
kanuga, summer breeze. sitting in a hammock looking out at the green filesds the pastures the mountians the air. seeing the lake and the microscopic beauty of every living creature, magnified on a single branch of the great oak
everything is serene and splendid and wonderful and lovely
all you do is sigh
and that
Oak is a very tough tree bark. I wish I had an oak table, but when mother died, I have had no concerns about such frivulous things. I miss mother, but now, I have so many things to worry about. I can’t live on my own it seems. Why can’t I be an oak tree? Where are my roots? Why cant I photosynthesize?
tree stark against the skyline aged and enormous. Green leaves never falling and acorns galore. My father shoots at the squirrels who bury the nuts in his yard, distroying the turf. Mother makes squirrel soup or something or other. I never can remember the name of the recipe.
oaks are symbolic for strong stuff, right? I use it in stories a lot. not that I write a lot. I wish I did. But I suck at writing. I wish I was good, then I’d just pursue an English degree, write cool books, and get lots of money. But that won’t happen because I suck.
oak trees are leaves that fall coldness and dampness fall and naps. the cool air feels good on my cheeks, the sun is warm, the trees rustle quietly as I take a deep breath and sigh. everything falls behind me, stress relief, release of everything. oak is peace.
It was a fine, sunny, Sunday afternoon. I was laying on the back deck, watching the wistful clouds scatter over the horizon. I could hear the birds calling from the old oak tree in the next door neighbour’s yard.
The warrior, realizing he had been disarmed, picked up a strong oak branch that was conveniently lying at his feet. The enemies just laughed at him. At this moment, one would expect the warrior to valiantly defeat his opponents with only his pathetic improvised weapon. But this wasn’t a movie. The evil orcs simply hacked the warrior to pieces, looted the gold from his pouch, and walked onwards.
Stability, that’s what it was.
It was holding everything together.
Deep rooted, & far reaching branches.
& Us, on the very edge, up so high.
It swayed, as we swayed. It creaked.
The leaves were just rustling, but
it was music. The tree, it was cut.
& we, we fell.
an oak tree has lesaves and is really beautiful and large. I dont know too much about oak trees but i feel like i should know more. They have really big leaves. i think i may know more about maple trees because i went to school in vermont which is chock full of them. Oak trees, however, are really
it was an old oak tree. their great grandfather had planted it when they had first bought the plantation 150 years ago.
their pets where buried under it.
their mother was buried under.
Linda And sonny had carved there names into it.
And now it an office table.
oak is waht mum said brandy tasted like. i tried some, and it tasted like shit. but i kept drinking it, when she was out of the house. they say all that stuff about alcohol, like vanilla notes and all that crap, but i think once you’re off your facce it doesn’t actually mater so much, just the insatiable need for more and more until you chuck. i don’t know WHY people drink, i don’t know why i do. human nature, i guess.
its brown and a tree and its wonderful and the leaves are red and its sturdy. i can’t be anything like it. i can’t blow away with the wind. or let the wind blow me away. i must be strong and sturdy and stationary. and i can’t feel. i can’t move. I can’t run or blow.
i think it is the sturdiest of wood. it is beautiful in tables and it makes me feel super happy when i smell it as a car freshner. i love oak, however the more and more i think about it i realize that oak does not love me. so many people know oak, and oak knows so many people. isn’t it obvious? this thing is one sided and always will be.
a tree that is strong and beautiful that can create chairs and floors and makes the sky so graceful.
He glanced around furtively for a second before depositing his note into the knot of the old oak tree by the playground. He was pretty sure he’d shaken off anyone who might’ve been following. He’d been like Billy from Family Circus! Hands in his pockets, he strolled away, whistling. Being a spy sure was fun!
A bitter wind swept through the hollow oak trees that lay ashen grey, barren from the raging fires that had consumed the land. Teetering on the edge of a cliff, he stood. Valiantly. And fell. Down the ravine. Down the cliff. Down, to hell.
the mighty oak stood proud in the same place for one hundred years. it saw childhoods end in laughter and tears. it witnessed first loves and heartfelt goodbyes. and was torn down for concrete and steel
The tall oak tree stood in the middle of the park for almost 70 years. It is a great memorial for our family – as my great-great grandfather planted it there when he first moved to town here. I’m going to try my best and fight for that park and our tree – the local government wants to pull it all down and put a huge mall in there instead.
the oak tree stood upon the hill, with words carved onto its trunk, bearing witness to a love that would never die.
the oak tree outside my window is so beautiful in the fall. the colors changing from green to red and orange and yellow are so breath taking i sometimes find myself just staring outside the window and daydreaming. one day i will be like a leaf on the wind. and i will be happy
a big tree of romantic stature. the oak and the owl are synonymous with one another. it’s so dark and wonderful. a great shady place to think. i love oaks.
There is nothing as re
IT’S WOOD. I am sitting on it right now. I know of so many doors to which things have opened, that were made of it. oak.
There was a huge oak tree on the school campus. I would describe it further if I could but there was simply nothing more to say. There was a brick arch too, a crumbling but very well made archway just beneath it, it rose up to meet the oak, an ancient reach.
i don.t know what is oak
oak…. thats a weird word… All I’m thinking about is the woods… And faeries… Its simple really… I’m like a fairy in the wrong forest… I don’t belong here… the magic is gone and I have no other place to go.
you cast a shade over me;
sunk your roots in my soul,
and wrapped them to the bone.
your leaves are dead in
the autumn sun,
but you keep coming back
like the season’s solstice.
I cut you down to save myself,
so you could seed your own world.
I may have saved us both the strain
but I can’t forget, the roots remain.
I climbed an oak tree once. I climbed it again three years later. I found it a lot easier to climb because it was just a stump. I wondered what happened – ALL OF A SUDDEN I HEARD A VOICE! “It’s oak-ay, Troy.”
Breath. Relax. Rest your body under this grand oak tree—the chief of this ancient forest. Rest under it’s awe inspiring presence that holds you precisely in this moment while insttilling the essence of your ancestors in your Spirit.
i lived under the old oak tree. it was the best thing you could have ever think of. it was big and brown and it was perfect to climb. I collected the acorns for my sling shot and they were perfect.
Professor Oak is he who orchestrates all that occurs in the Pokemon games. I know him so well. He’s so important to my life that the second thing I think of after seeing the word “oak” is Pokemon(after trees, thankfully). How could a mere game have made such an impact on me, my stream of thoughts, and society in general? Awe inspiring, I swear.
This is a tree…mostly a large tree. I don’t really care about large Oak trees, but it seems as though they produce a lot of paper. We could probably save these trees if we didn’t cut them down to make paper…we could make really nice Oak bed posts instead. Good Idea.
as i sat at the roots of the oak tree i stand to pound has this tree stood here for ages. or has the oak tree lived a short life as i pondered still i went home to my oak wood table and wrote a note to my love.
tree i think of an oak tree, possibly a table made out of oak, i think that is also the type of table that saved hitler from the bomb in the movie valkerie, i would like an oak table that would be cool, it would be strong and sturdy, thinking of trees reminds me of biology, when we had to draw a tree and it told us stuff about ourse
kanuga, summer breeze. sitting in a hammock looking out at the green filesds the pastures the mountians the air. seeing the lake and the microscopic beauty of every living creature, magnified on a single branch of the great oak
everything is serene and splendid and wonderful and lovely
all you do is sigh
and that
Oak is a very tough tree bark. I wish I had an oak table, but when mother died, I have had no concerns about such frivulous things. I miss mother, but now, I have so many things to worry about. I can’t live on my own it seems. Why can’t I be an oak tree? Where are my roots? Why cant I photosynthesize?
Oak. I have nothing. Big oak trees maybe? oak barrels? Wow, nothing. nada. I’ll try again tomorrow.
tree stark against the skyline aged and enormous. Green leaves never falling and acorns galore. My father shoots at the squirrels who bury the nuts in his yard, distroying the turf. Mother makes squirrel soup or something or other. I never can remember the name of the recipe.
back pressed to the oak tree —
sun shining through the autumn-soaked leaves
onto bared skin and
straw hair —
your lips pressed like softened taffy,
the breeze tangling our hair
and hands together.
and then i wake up.
professor oak. gary oak.
ok, enough about my childhood obsession…
oaks are symbolic for strong stuff, right? I use it in stories a lot. not that I write a lot. I wish I did. But I suck at writing. I wish I was good, then I’d just pursue an English degree, write cool books, and get lots of money. But that won’t happen because I suck.
oak trees are leaves that fall coldness and dampness fall and naps. the cool air feels good on my cheeks, the sun is warm, the trees rustle quietly as I take a deep breath and sigh. everything falls behind me, stress relief, release of everything. oak is peace.
It was a fine, sunny, Sunday afternoon. I was laying on the back deck, watching the wistful clouds scatter over the horizon. I could hear the birds calling from the old oak tree in the next door neighbour’s yard.
always and forever means never to you
Oak, Oak as in the name of their school
How appropriate.
He’s my best friend. I love him.
I’ll go, for him, Jesus, for nobody else but for him, I’ll jump off a cliff.
Say the word Mr. Dyer. I’m all yours.
The warrior, realizing he had been disarmed, picked up a strong oak branch that was conveniently lying at his feet. The enemies just laughed at him. At this moment, one would expect the warrior to valiantly defeat his opponents with only his pathetic improvised weapon. But this wasn’t a movie. The evil orcs simply hacked the warrior to pieces, looted the gold from his pouch, and walked onwards.
Stability, that’s what it was.
It was holding everything together.
Deep rooted, & far reaching branches.
& Us, on the very edge, up so high.
It swayed, as we swayed. It creaked.
The leaves were just rustling, but
it was music. The tree, it was cut.
& we, we fell.
an oak tree has lesaves and is really beautiful and large. I dont know too much about oak trees but i feel like i should know more. They have really big leaves. i think i may know more about maple trees because i went to school in vermont which is chock full of them. Oak trees, however, are really
Solid, strong, unwavering…..i want to be like you. help me to stand firm untouched by the sickness around me.
it was an old oak tree. their great grandfather had planted it when they had first bought the plantation 150 years ago.
their pets where buried under it.
their mother was buried under.
Linda And sonny had carved there names into it.
And now it an office table.
as i sat next to this oak tree I started to ponder. Are the leaves green or are they just a figment of my imagination.