She was defined as a prune by her grandchildren. They didn’t understand the glory of who she truly was. The soft wrinkles embedded into her porcelain skin were battle scars of the life we had lived. Story upon story unfolded as I reached out to touch her cheek, tracing the lines as I moved along. One was for the time our little girl crashed the car, another for the first time our crazy George said “I hate you”. But the deepest, was when we had to lay our dear, sweet Maybelle to rest in the clouds and stars above. Please do not think of our time together as only sadness. The hard times have made us cherish the brighter days like no other. I now bring my hand to the brink of her lip, and cannot help but smile. What I feel are no longer battle scars, they are the remints of love. I cherish my ‘prune’ as well as the life we have lived, I only hope that when my grandchildren are prunes themselves, they will have gotten to experience what we have and more. Prunes and all.
They swam for hours, out to the dock, sunned and chatted and laughed,
the wonder of summer holidays,
raced and cannon balled
and finally returned to the shore
spent, big grins, contented,
skin wrinkled and deep brown from the elements
like happy little prunes
Fingers pruned from the bath, she rose, a sheet of bathwater cascading down her body only to rejoin its’ brethren in the tub below. A slight clearing of her throat and her handmaiden appeared, wrapping her body in a towel and easing her transition from wet porcelain to unyielding stone.
plucked and made wrinkly. not a metaphor for dying. no. selected, out of many, and made into something to be eaten. in business, if they use this word in reference to downsizing, run away. a distance to fall. but already ruined before it left the stem.
The old man pruned his trees after she left. He wonders what will become of her and if she’ll be alright. Time will tell, though he won’t be around to find out the answer to his question. Oh well. I guess like father, like daughter…
The roses lined the path perfectly. She turned, with the intention of telling him this, and stopped. Shock flowed through her body. “No, no! Stop!” fell from her lips. He had begun to prune away the rose bushes. He wondered what was wrong; he knew that the roses could not be that close to the path. Though it was too late, he had with one quick movement, ruined the ambiance of the entire garden.
The roses lined the path perfectly. She turned, with the intention to tell him this, and stopped. Shock flowed through her body. “No, no! Stop!” fell from her lips. He had begun to prune away the rose bushes. He wondered what was wrong; he knew that the roses could not be that close to the path. Though it was too late, he had, with one quick movement, ruined the ambiance of the entire garden.
The old man climbed out of the pool with pruned hands. He’d been swimming for around an hour that morning at the health club, which he’d been to for about a year.
The lovely cherry blossom tree had been pruned back so that the blossoms had no where to grow, and the limbs looked like amputated arms. It looked so sad that Maddie could barely hold back a sob. Even the cherry blossom tree had been changed. There was nothing left of the nostalgic memories that crowded her dreams.
“There,” Mom said, snipping another dead branch off the rose bush in our backyard. “Now you can see why this needed to be pruned. It helps it grow longer during the winter months. Want to try?”
I shook my head. “Gardening is your thing, not mine.”
She was broken
almost like her skin
was shriveled and pruned
She didn’t smile when someone showed her kindness
and she didn’t smile when she was happy
she only turned the corners of her lips upwards
Like she was trying to
but it never reached her eyes
Im sitting in side sitting thinking about the word pruned and what interesting thing i could say but it has already slipped my mind. Im left spinning in a eternal pool of thought and sadly i cant swim.
Some little mutated thing bobbed up and down peacefully in that pickle jar. His little fingers looked bloated and pruned as they made a little fist. Even though it wasn’t alive, I didn’t shake the jar for fear of waking him.
his garden had flourished given the wet winter – the right type of rain – the roses had been cut back in the spring and everything was now growing with a pleasant vigour
When I was a little girl, I used to have to take baths with my brother. And they weren’t the short showers where we get in and get out as adults. We lived in the tub. And you could always tell when we got out how long we’d been in because our hands were pruned.
She clipped the pieces from the edges of his wild hair, fixed them, playfully set them on edge. He squirmed beneath her comb. “You’re power mad.” She giggled. “And you’re adorable.”
I pruned the trees of my mind yesterday – must’ve cut off too much – because the brainwaves are wilting, unreflective, starting to delay, diverge, dissolve, become inaudible, soon will be imperceptible – perhaps my mind is just in shock and the leaves of thought will come back, perhaps in the spring… But what if they don’t? Where does that leave me but pruned and ruined?
She liked staying in the tub until her fingers turned pruney and fat. She liked the ideaof turning into something else–why not a prune? Why not a sea cucumber or jellyfish or other strange blobby thing? Why not float away down thedrain for some undersea adventure?
She jostled a bottle with her elbow and it dropped in with a splash and a burst of bubbles.
You have to prune the dead twigs and leaves from your body. The detritus will infect the rest of your system, make you sick and fixate on the past. All you want is to heal, grow, move on. Sometimes, the hardest part is severing those ties, those old branches.
The mirror in front of the door has always caused problems. But none were compared to that of Daisy’s. She would stand in front of the mirror for one half hour before leaving the house. Every hair, every freckle, every smear of lipstick was checked and re-checked before she would exit the house.
My fingers were pruned from sitting in the shower for so long. I wasn’t ready to get out yet but my brothers had been pounding on the door for a solid ten minutes. I wasn’t ready to face the world though, I needed a few more minutes in my sanctuary
the sin only made my skin tougher. the sky only made my eyes brighter. Joseph carried the water, and I carried him. The only way out of this country is through the desert, but no one ever makes it out. Can I be the one who breaks this curse, or am I only drying out like the rest.
I sighed as I entered the garage–it was a huge mess. How on earth was I ever going to find the pruning shears in time to get the five gigantic shrubs my wife wanted pruned before dinnertime? And she was making steak tonight too…
They said that pruning wasn’t going to do it this time, the tree was too old, too ugly. I said it’s mine. We had been planted on the same day. My sister’s great grand son came to my rescue. He helped me to put that fence around, carry the chairs and hang the lanterns. I let the rest to wait autumn and their harvests. I enjoyed of the summer nights, of the moments I still had to live.
I had too much on my plate. I was puled in all directions. I couldn’t deal. Something had to be pruned from my life. So, a bath….some meditation….I sat in the water until my fingers….you guessed it….pruned.
The children all wanted to grow in different directions. Painting, math, writing, music, computers, botany. It was the job of the teachers at the Academy to prune the children. Excellence could not be achieved by spreading your branches every which-way. A tree, they said, grows best under the care of a gardener. With shears.
Tania, however, had no desire to be cut. No desire to be like one of those shapely, teardrop trees in the park, standing straight in its spot in the line.
I am not quite sure what the word ‘pruned’ means…. Does it mean to trim a tree… it is a process related to ‘prunes?’ I like prunes- and dried fruit in general. I don’t know how to trim plants though.
” I should buy some new curtains” I thought as I carefully pruned my genital hair. “I should buy some with some ducklings frolicking in the grass. That would be just nice. And where the hell did my soda go?”
from sun
beamed on body
days and days
until flesh rot
kidney and lung
or carrion birds
leave only bone
she will stay
road killed on road
where he pulled her under him
and left her
to bleed out
There were hedges that needed pruning since before he left. Now they were a symbol of the overgrown, unattended to nature she herself was in after being abandoned. It began long before he walked out, and saw no real resolution.
cut-
sliced through the core-
of an archaic wound
bleeding sounds and phrases
pruning the wisdom
from my fingertips
She was defined as a prune by her grandchildren. They didn’t understand the glory of who she truly was. The soft wrinkles embedded into her porcelain skin were battle scars of the life we had lived. Story upon story unfolded as I reached out to touch her cheek, tracing the lines as I moved along. One was for the time our little girl crashed the car, another for the first time our crazy George said “I hate you”. But the deepest, was when we had to lay our dear, sweet Maybelle to rest in the clouds and stars above. Please do not think of our time together as only sadness. The hard times have made us cherish the brighter days like no other. I now bring my hand to the brink of her lip, and cannot help but smile. What I feel are no longer battle scars, they are the remints of love. I cherish my ‘prune’ as well as the life we have lived, I only hope that when my grandchildren are prunes themselves, they will have gotten to experience what we have and more. Prunes and all.
I sat in the bathtub for too long and my fingers are now pruned. I’m all wrinkly. Looking like I’m 60, not 30.
They swam for hours, out to the dock, sunned and chatted and laughed,
the wonder of summer holidays,
raced and cannon balled
and finally returned to the shore
spent, big grins, contented,
skin wrinkled and deep brown from the elements
like happy little prunes
Fingers pruned from the bath, she rose, a sheet of bathwater cascading down her body only to rejoin its’ brethren in the tub below. A slight clearing of her throat and her handmaiden appeared, wrapping her body in a towel and easing her transition from wet porcelain to unyielding stone.
plucked and made wrinkly. not a metaphor for dying. no. selected, out of many, and made into something to be eaten. in business, if they use this word in reference to downsizing, run away. a distance to fall. but already ruined before it left the stem.
The old man pruned his trees after she left. He wonders what will become of her and if she’ll be alright. Time will tell, though he won’t be around to find out the answer to his question. Oh well. I guess like father, like daughter…
Fingers hot and wet, soaked up her moisture. There was no time for words as they continued their ecstasy, no time to look at pruned fingers.
The roses lined the path perfectly. She turned, with the intention of telling him this, and stopped. Shock flowed through her body. “No, no! Stop!” fell from her lips. He had begun to prune away the rose bushes. He wondered what was wrong; he knew that the roses could not be that close to the path. Though it was too late, he had with one quick movement, ruined the ambiance of the entire garden.
The roses lined the path perfectly. She turned, with the intention to tell him this, and stopped. Shock flowed through her body. “No, no! Stop!” fell from her lips. He had begun to prune away the rose bushes. He wondered what was wrong; he knew that the roses could not be that close to the path. Though it was too late, he had, with one quick movement, ruined the ambiance of the entire garden.
The old man climbed out of the pool with pruned hands. He’d been swimming for around an hour that morning at the health club, which he’d been to for about a year.
The lovely cherry blossom tree had been pruned back so that the blossoms had no where to grow, and the limbs looked like amputated arms. It looked so sad that Maddie could barely hold back a sob. Even the cherry blossom tree had been changed. There was nothing left of the nostalgic memories that crowded her dreams.
“There,” Mom said, snipping another dead branch off the rose bush in our backyard. “Now you can see why this needed to be pruned. It helps it grow longer during the winter months. Want to try?”
I shook my head. “Gardening is your thing, not mine.”
She was broken
almost like her skin
was shriveled and pruned
She didn’t smile when someone showed her kindness
and she didn’t smile when she was happy
she only turned the corners of her lips upwards
Like she was trying to
but it never reached her eyes
The boy was running for the end zone in a celebratory fashion and the suddenely out of nowhere the huge linebacke pruned him.
Im sitting in side sitting thinking about the word pruned and what interesting thing i could say but it has already slipped my mind. Im left spinning in a eternal pool of thought and sadly i cant swim.
Clip my wings i dare you. You will not succeed. Because if im going to fail it will be because of me.
Un- pruned
Un -tuned
And lost in the moon
That would be me if only i were free.
In order for an olive tree to grow it has to be pruned. It may hurt it at first, cut it back, and it’ll grow! Sometimes you, yourself need pruning.
Some little mutated thing bobbed up and down peacefully in that pickle jar. His little fingers looked bloated and pruned as they made a little fist. Even though it wasn’t alive, I didn’t shake the jar for fear of waking him.
his garden had flourished given the wet winter – the right type of rain – the roses had been cut back in the spring and everything was now growing with a pleasant vigour
When I was a little girl, I used to have to take baths with my brother. And they weren’t the short showers where we get in and get out as adults. We lived in the tub. And you could always tell when we got out how long we’d been in because our hands were pruned.
She clipped the pieces from the edges of his wild hair, fixed them, playfully set them on edge. He squirmed beneath her comb. “You’re power mad.” She giggled. “And you’re adorable.”
I pruned the trees of my mind yesterday – must’ve cut off too much – because the brainwaves are wilting, unreflective, starting to delay, diverge, dissolve, become inaudible, soon will be imperceptible – perhaps my mind is just in shock and the leaves of thought will come back, perhaps in the spring… But what if they don’t? Where does that leave me but pruned and ruined?
She liked staying in the tub until her fingers turned pruney and fat. She liked the ideaof turning into something else–why not a prune? Why not a sea cucumber or jellyfish or other strange blobby thing? Why not float away down thedrain for some undersea adventure?
She jostled a bottle with her elbow and it dropped in with a splash and a burst of bubbles.
You have to prune the dead twigs and leaves from your body. The detritus will infect the rest of your system, make you sick and fixate on the past. All you want is to heal, grow, move on. Sometimes, the hardest part is severing those ties, those old branches.
Having been cut. Taking away little things here and there to look better. Cutting away the fat. Leave the things/people that drag you down.
The mirror in front of the door has always caused problems. But none were compared to that of Daisy’s. She would stand in front of the mirror for one half hour before leaving the house. Every hair, every freckle, every smear of lipstick was checked and re-checked before she would exit the house.
My fingers were pruned from sitting in the shower for so long. I wasn’t ready to get out yet but my brothers had been pounding on the door for a solid ten minutes. I wasn’t ready to face the world though, I needed a few more minutes in my sanctuary
the sin only made my skin tougher. the sky only made my eyes brighter. Joseph carried the water, and I carried him. The only way out of this country is through the desert, but no one ever makes it out. Can I be the one who breaks this curse, or am I only drying out like the rest.
I sighed as I entered the garage–it was a huge mess. How on earth was I ever going to find the pruning shears in time to get the five gigantic shrubs my wife wanted pruned before dinnertime? And she was making steak tonight too…
They said that pruning wasn’t going to do it this time, the tree was too old, too ugly. I said it’s mine. We had been planted on the same day. My sister’s great grand son came to my rescue. He helped me to put that fence around, carry the chairs and hang the lanterns. I let the rest to wait autumn and their harvests. I enjoyed of the summer nights, of the moments I still had to live.
old and wrinkly slightly decrepit looking death and invalument lonliness sadness
I had too much on my plate. I was puled in all directions. I couldn’t deal. Something had to be pruned from my life. So, a bath….some meditation….I sat in the water until my fingers….you guessed it….pruned.
The children all wanted to grow in different directions. Painting, math, writing, music, computers, botany. It was the job of the teachers at the Academy to prune the children. Excellence could not be achieved by spreading your branches every which-way. A tree, they said, grows best under the care of a gardener. With shears.
Tania, however, had no desire to be cut. No desire to be like one of those shapely, teardrop trees in the park, standing straight in its spot in the line.
I am not quite sure what the word ‘pruned’ means…. Does it mean to trim a tree… it is a process related to ‘prunes?’ I like prunes- and dried fruit in general. I don’t know how to trim plants though.
” I should buy some new curtains” I thought as I carefully pruned my genital hair. “I should buy some with some ducklings frolicking in the grass. That would be just nice. And where the hell did my soda go?”
from sun
beamed on body
days and days
until flesh rot
kidney and lung
or carrion birds
leave only bone
she will stay
road killed on road
where he pulled her under him
and left her
to bleed out
There were hedges that needed pruning since before he left. Now they were a symbol of the overgrown, unattended to nature she herself was in after being abandoned. It began long before he walked out, and saw no real resolution.
The roses in the garden were pruned yesterday.