He returned from China in November, had been there since September. She ran up to him and gave him a big hug. She was so excited to finally have her father home. He gave to her the smallest of bags, hand-sewn with intricacies she wouldn’t even see until years later. The only thing she knew then was that she would keep it forever, until the last thread frayed away and the only thing left was the memory of that colourful little pouch.
small, warm and fuzzy. i wish i could stay here forever. close to my mother and her eternal warmth are forever mine when i am here. this is home. i wish i could get away and be here all at the same time.
I pulled my wallet out from my hoodie. With pursed lips, I tried to decide which one to get.
“What do you think?” I asked my excited friends behind me.
“BOUNCY BALL! GET THE BOUNCY!” They all shouted, nearly simultaneously. I laughed, and put the coins in the corresponding machine.
kangaroos do have pouches, but I guess they’re more of a necessity for them than for us, what with them being used for babies and not, say, money or lipsticks, or condoms or medication or whathaveyou.
pouch of flesh, blood, life and love.. a colaboration of genes welded; formulating a life-filled creature inside the shell of a womans womb. warm, safe, secure and calm nine months of flesh growing around and within until finally expelled through pain and the ultimate bond of complete and utter devotion.
Pouch is one of those words that is cute and ugly at the same time. You can have a pouch of candy, or see a baby kangaroo in its mother’s pouch, both of which are beautiful things. But then again there’s a pouch of ugly crap, or a pouch of fat. I will let you take imaginative license to envision what exactly that “ugly crap” is. Pouch. Pouch. Eww. Pouch of skin hanging off my face. Nasty. But a brown-eyed little man with a toothy grin who has a pouch of coins. That can be cute. I think I’m kinda like the word pouch. I’m versatile enough to be ugly and cute at the same time.
There was a little pouch in the front of the dress, barely seen among the folds of stain, where she could hide the poison. What she really wanted was a ring like Lucrezia Borgia, but they were far too expensive and obvious.
I was looking for them while we sped 80 on the windy path through the bush. He promised I’d see kangaroos here. He just knew it. So I kept looking, intently. My eyes started to hurt from the gum trees passing by so fast. Maybe they were out there in the bush, lurking and trying to look for me with their lover’s saying, “This is the place where you can see the most humans, just look up there!” The Kangaroo was probably disappointed when all she could see was a fast moving box, instead of those who occupied it.
Kangaroos are the only animals created with a pouch to nestle their young safe and secure. How neat for God to think of this. Mothers can find a certain carrier to do the same at their local Target
I ripped open the tiny pouch of supplies they gave us. “There’s nothing in here large enough to staunch the bloodflow,” I said hopelessly. Leiko laid on the ground, moaning, while the blood made a pool around her leg.
We place the things that we can’t let go in a pouch. We never run out of pouches, we can hold onto anything we want in mass quantities. Why do we hold on to everything?
She didn’t know why she carried it around with her; a useless, ugly thing like that. However, perhaps it was the sentimental value it held, and not the item it’s self. The pouch was old and worn, passed down for so many generations, she couldn’t even remeber how many.
Um, I met a woman at a networking event. She was selling PokSaks – they’re nylon shopping bags that tuck into a wallet-sized pouch. Neato. But still too big for my tiny purse.
“I’ve got nothing but this coin way back from 1988.”
Maybe it’s worth a fortune by now if I were to pawn it. Maybe it’s worth nothing at all. But whatever is left of my sanity from reaching my fingertips inside this pouch, I don’t care anymore. No self-respect, no honesty, nothing. Because this pouch doesn’t belong to me.
If I could you shrink and fit into your pocket, I would. I want nothing more than to be safe with you forever. I’m so scared. Is this really it? I fucking hope not. I need that comfort.
She held it close to her chest, cherishing it. A small leather pouch. Clutching it with dear life, though it was empty. She assumed it held her memories, but the leather was deteriorating and the more she held on, the faster the condition of the pouch worsened.
I rummaged through the pouch, searching for the keys. No luck. Stranded in a dark, empty parking lot, I shuddered in the cold. Just last week there had been a murder not 2 blocks away. Now what?
he had a big one. it was grose. Why would someone allow himself to get so lost. Well, it was one too many fast food trips and here he was. Craziness, someone should have stopped him. But who could, it was his falut
I am completely drawing a blank for the word pouch. As a matter of fact, no, I’ll write about it.
I dislike the word pouch.
I feel that it is vague and it sounds weird.
That is all.
there is a pouch inside of my backpack. i don’t know what’s in it, but i do know that is is a powerful weapon capable of sending strange signals through the air. and when another person has the same kind of weapon, they answer theirs.
purse something you carry around when you have a ton of stuf f to hold, something on a animal aka marsupial used to carry their young such as kangaroos.
the only sensation is that of coarse spikey fur. no light, lots of warmth, snuggle. move around the pouch, looking for a teat. joey says thank you kangaroo mama!
She carried the little pouch of spices everywhere. Her mother didn’t understand why, but it’s really her own fault — she’d never explain. It had belonged to Sam, long after all his other posessions have been willed away, the pouch was all that she could get from the boy who’d never know how she’d loved him.
I opened up my leather pouch and found a little charm bracelet i haven’t seen for many years. As i look down at it, so many memories come rushing back to me. The day i went to my grandmas, the day i went to the beach with my family. So many good memories associated wtih it.
I am the joey, you are the ‘roo. Let me experience the thrill as you soar through the ground. Make my childhood nothing like it’ll ever be for anyone else. You, my mother, can give me this excitement like no one else.
My fanny pack/pouch has been lost and I do not know where it could possibly be I’ve looked and looked but it is nowhere to be found perhaps if I run really fast into every room I might have a chance at discovering my fanny pack.
The tramp put his hand into his pouch searching for the last bit of tobacco but he had smoked it long ago. Still, he liked the comfort of feeling around inthe pouch, as if it were an old family friend, someone who had been through many adventures with him. He sighed and pulled his ocat collar higher up his neck. It was going to be a long night sitting in the doorway of the cathedral.
LIKE WHERE THE KANGAROO MAMA KEEPS HER BABIES. WOULDN’T IT BE GREAT IF PEOPLE HAD POUCHES? SUCH UTILITY! WE COULD STORE EVERYTHING IN THERE. PLASTIC SURGERY IDEA? I THINK SO. PATENT THAT.
My life flows from my server pouch. In it I carry my server pad, my pens, cheat sheets for wine and the menu. All the tools I need to pay my bills twenty dollars at a time. The life of a server is fleeting and transient.
kangaroos have pouches. i like kangaroos because their name starts with k, and my name starts with k. kangaroos have joeys in their pouches to keep them warm. joeys are cute. tey live in australia.
She smashed the contents of his pouch against his upper leg, and followed it up with a higher kick to his chest. The lord fell, bewildered and in pain, as the assassin stood over him, and drew a finger across her throat. He was going to die.
He returned from China in November, had been there since September. She ran up to him and gave him a big hug. She was so excited to finally have her father home. He gave to her the smallest of bags, hand-sewn with intricacies she wouldn’t even see until years later. The only thing she knew then was that she would keep it forever, until the last thread frayed away and the only thing left was the memory of that colourful little pouch.
small, warm and fuzzy. i wish i could stay here forever. close to my mother and her eternal warmth are forever mine when i am here. this is home. i wish i could get away and be here all at the same time.
purse
kangaroo
satchel
bag
pout
couch
ziploc
I pulled my wallet out from my hoodie. With pursed lips, I tried to decide which one to get.
“What do you think?” I asked my excited friends behind me.
“BOUNCY BALL! GET THE BOUNCY!” They all shouted, nearly simultaneously. I laughed, and put the coins in the corresponding machine.
kangaroos do have pouches, but I guess they’re more of a necessity for them than for us, what with them being used for babies and not, say, money or lipsticks, or condoms or medication or whathaveyou.
pouch of flesh, blood, life and love.. a colaboration of genes welded; formulating a life-filled creature inside the shell of a womans womb. warm, safe, secure and calm nine months of flesh growing around and within until finally expelled through pain and the ultimate bond of complete and utter devotion.
Pouch is one of those words that is cute and ugly at the same time. You can have a pouch of candy, or see a baby kangaroo in its mother’s pouch, both of which are beautiful things. But then again there’s a pouch of ugly crap, or a pouch of fat. I will let you take imaginative license to envision what exactly that “ugly crap” is. Pouch. Pouch. Eww. Pouch of skin hanging off my face. Nasty. But a brown-eyed little man with a toothy grin who has a pouch of coins. That can be cute. I think I’m kinda like the word pouch. I’m versatile enough to be ugly and cute at the same time.
There was a little pouch in the front of the dress, barely seen among the folds of stain, where she could hide the poison. What she really wanted was a ring like Lucrezia Borgia, but they were far too expensive and obvious.
Like on a kangaroo or other marsupial
something to hold your coins
or an unfortunate addition to woman’s front side
I was looking for them while we sped 80 on the windy path through the bush. He promised I’d see kangaroos here. He just knew it. So I kept looking, intently. My eyes started to hurt from the gum trees passing by so fast. Maybe they were out there in the bush, lurking and trying to look for me with their lover’s saying, “This is the place where you can see the most humans, just look up there!” The Kangaroo was probably disappointed when all she could see was a fast moving box, instead of those who occupied it.
Kangaroo. Phanny packs. a kangaroo phanny pack would be amazing to create. I can make one.
Kangaroos are the only animals created with a pouch to nestle their young safe and secure. How neat for God to think of this. Mothers can find a certain carrier to do the same at their local Target
I ripped open the tiny pouch of supplies they gave us. “There’s nothing in here large enough to staunch the bloodflow,” I said hopelessly. Leiko laid on the ground, moaning, while the blood made a pool around her leg.
We place the things that we can’t let go in a pouch. We never run out of pouches, we can hold onto anything we want in mass quantities. Why do we hold on to everything?
She didn’t know why she carried it around with her; a useless, ugly thing like that. However, perhaps it was the sentimental value it held, and not the item it’s self. The pouch was old and worn, passed down for so many generations, she couldn’t even remeber how many.
Huh.
Um, I met a woman at a networking event. She was selling PokSaks – they’re nylon shopping bags that tuck into a wallet-sized pouch. Neato. But still too big for my tiny purse.
“I’ve got nothing but this coin way back from 1988.”
Maybe it’s worth a fortune by now if I were to pawn it. Maybe it’s worth nothing at all. But whatever is left of my sanity from reaching my fingertips inside this pouch, I don’t care anymore. No self-respect, no honesty, nothing. Because this pouch doesn’t belong to me.
If I could you shrink and fit into your pocket, I would. I want nothing more than to be safe with you forever. I’m so scared. Is this really it? I fucking hope not. I need that comfort.
She held it close to her chest, cherishing it. A small leather pouch. Clutching it with dear life, though it was empty. She assumed it held her memories, but the leather was deteriorating and the more she held on, the faster the condition of the pouch worsened.
I rummaged through the pouch, searching for the keys. No luck. Stranded in a dark, empty parking lot, I shuddered in the cold. Just last week there had been a murder not 2 blocks away. Now what?
he had a big one. it was grose. Why would someone allow himself to get so lost. Well, it was one too many fast food trips and here he was. Craziness, someone should have stopped him. But who could, it was his falut
I am completely drawing a blank for the word pouch. As a matter of fact, no, I’ll write about it.
I dislike the word pouch.
I feel that it is vague and it sounds weird.
That is all.
there is a pouch inside of my backpack. i don’t know what’s in it, but i do know that is is a powerful weapon capable of sending strange signals through the air. and when another person has the same kind of weapon, they answer theirs.
purse something you carry around when you have a ton of stuf f to hold, something on a animal aka marsupial used to carry their young such as kangaroos.
I was really hoping for some poached eggs, but I guess Ill just stick some candy in my pouch.
the only sensation is that of coarse spikey fur. no light, lots of warmth, snuggle. move around the pouch, looking for a teat. joey says thank you kangaroo mama!
bag
The pouch at his waist contained all that he would need from this moment on, all other worldly possessions were now unnecessary.
She carried the little pouch of spices everywhere. Her mother didn’t understand why, but it’s really her own fault — she’d never explain. It had belonged to Sam, long after all his other posessions have been willed away, the pouch was all that she could get from the boy who’d never know how she’d loved him.
I opened up my leather pouch and found a little charm bracelet i haven’t seen for many years. As i look down at it, so many memories come rushing back to me. The day i went to my grandmas, the day i went to the beach with my family. So many good memories associated wtih it.
I am the joey, you are the ‘roo. Let me experience the thrill as you soar through the ground. Make my childhood nothing like it’ll ever be for anyone else. You, my mother, can give me this excitement like no one else.
My fanny pack/pouch has been lost and I do not know where it could possibly be I’ve looked and looked but it is nowhere to be found perhaps if I run really fast into every room I might have a chance at discovering my fanny pack.
The tramp put his hand into his pouch searching for the last bit of tobacco but he had smoked it long ago. Still, he liked the comfort of feeling around inthe pouch, as if it were an old family friend, someone who had been through many adventures with him. He sighed and pulled his ocat collar higher up his neck. It was going to be a long night sitting in the doorway of the cathedral.
LIKE WHERE THE KANGAROO MAMA KEEPS HER BABIES. WOULDN’T IT BE GREAT IF PEOPLE HAD POUCHES? SUCH UTILITY! WE COULD STORE EVERYTHING IN THERE. PLASTIC SURGERY IDEA? I THINK SO. PATENT THAT.
Put your life in my pouch. I need to go purchase some purchasables from the local dispensary, and I will require fundings.
What? Why? Oh, come on. Don’t be a twit. Just pop it off and place it in my pouch. My pouch is wonderful, you’ll enjoy the experience.
My life flows from my server pouch. In it I carry my server pad, my pens, cheat sheets for wine and the menu. All the tools I need to pay my bills twenty dollars at a time. The life of a server is fleeting and transient.
I reach to my side, and I pull out the few marbles I have left.
Shinies, solids, milky ways.
I scatter them on the floor.
I don’t mind burglars entering my house, but they’ll know better than to come back.
kangaroos have pouches. i like kangaroos because their name starts with k, and my name starts with k. kangaroos have joeys in their pouches to keep them warm. joeys are cute. tey live in australia.
Kangaroo’s. Dogs. The very front pocket of my Red Gola bag. I can’t be bothered. What is this life of mine?
She smashed the contents of his pouch against his upper leg, and followed it up with a higher kick to his chest. The lord fell, bewildered and in pain, as the assassin stood over him, and drew a finger across her throat. He was going to die.