You have put in the corner
the old rocking chair
that whispers as it goes back and forth
You have decided
on responsibility
and calm browns
Instead of being a rocker
with spiky, purple hair.
The mother was resting in the rocker with the baby upon her breast. The rocker had been made with the finest wood in the land. Her Hubby had made it for her.
The mother was resting in the rocker with her baby upon her breast. The moon was shining out side as bright as always. She had been busy the whole day getting ready for the guests.
Cracker Barrel has rows of brand new rockers lined upon on their large front porch. Many old-times and young ones too, like to sit and chat with their friends after they come out from having their meal. I miss those days when
The old rocker isn’t actually old, just designed to look that way. But it does have a cushion covered in cat fur and a cat to go with it. Don’t disturb him when he’s sitting on it, by the way. He doesn’t find that amusing at all.
The door was hard to open, the handle rusty and the hinges stuck. When it finally busted open, the inside was covered in cobwebs and a heavy film of dust. A rocking chair stood in the corner, seemingly tethered to the floor by the thick strands of cobweb that ran from its arms to the hardwood and the wall behind it.
This rocker came from my grandmother, its known to be haunted and rock by itself. Rumor is, if you sit in it long enough the ghost which rocks will take control of your body.
there once was an old woman who lived in her rocker. She never ever left. Her family was really concerned about her, and wanted to get rid of the rocker. She refused and threatened to disown her family if they sold her rocker. One night, when the old woman was asleep, they picked her up and took her off the rocker and sold it.
She went off her rocker. After he left her, after he took her baby she could face reality anymore. After all the panic attacks and angry outbursts she simply lost her mind.
“No way! You’ve got to be off your rocker to want me to do that!”
The boy, dashing baseball cap in hand, glared indignantly at his old grandmother, who was indeed not sitting on the sofa instead of on the rocking chair that was her usual resting place.
Beneath his feet, the stage was beating like the heart of a track star. He couldn’t even hear the sound of the guitars strumming next to him. They were singing his song like a sacred chant. He smiled, closed his eyes, and hoped to God that the tenth grade teacher who’d called him a loser, was out there somewhere feeling stupid.
rock around the clock i wanna rock rock rock around the clock lalalalal.love a rock a dock a clock fo sho ma book. silly little rock split into a pebble you know hey! yeah buddy.
To lift you as high as I could was the best thing that I ever did that rainy morning. I was strong, you said, and then you exclaimed at the top of your lungs, “Well, that’s my favorite rocker out there!” I smiled, then you whispered, “even if you don’t have your guitar with you.” And nothing, nothing ever compares to the way you smiled at me that day.
Roight. That’s what Oi was. A real rock’n rollah. Oi ‘ad girls from ‘ere to Kingsbridge, Oi did. Let me tell yeh, mate, Oi’ve done drugs yeh’ve never seen mixed with drugs yeh cen’t efen spell. Loife was a neferendin’ party then. We’d stay up till 5 A.M, do enough o’ th’ good t’ kill a feckin’ elephant, then get up an hour later to start rehearsal. Oi’ll tell yeh more later, but roight now Oi gotta get the kids teh th’ mini van. Woife’s wantin’ teh film Jimmy’s game affer her spin class.
I can vividly remember my grandmother, when she was alive owning a rocker chair that was the joy of her life. No one could sit in her chair and we had to polish it every year. rest in peace grandma
The rocker rocked on a hard wooden floor. It wouldn’t be allowed today: too easy to rock too far forward or back and fall. I chose that rockker. My parents bought it though, as I was about four at the time. This is a real memory, enhanced (or otherwise changed) for the purposes of this exercise. I wonder if anyone will ever read thius? It could exist for thousands of years on a server somewhere, without ever having been read. What are the chances of loneliness? The Moon is a harsh mistress, but a loving mother.
It was old and creaky, but it had provided comfort for generations of babies, snuggled warm and secure on the laps of their mothers. It was a soothing, wonderful chair that never ceased to make me smile.
i was going to the store. i ran into my friend. He was a rocker just like me. We loved to jam a lot so the two of us were connected in a way that many people on this world could be connected.
There are rocking chairs outside of Cracker Barrels. There are rocking chairs on the decks of old folks’ homes. When there is one rocking chair, all is well. When there are many, all in a row, you should probably try to escape. Craftsmen make the good ones out of wood. These suggest Tao. Do not buy any which were made in a factory.
I think every teenage girl has dreamed about dating a rock star. They possess a certain aura that makes us swoon. To me, if they can sing or play an instrument, I’m all yours. I admire talent and looks are secondary. Rock stars dress well, sometimes in leather or casual yet cool ripped clothes. Their carefree attitude and confidence are the most important things that drive us crazily in love.
“HERE I AM.”
“ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE.”
The radio blared in the back of the gas station.
The manager grunted in disgust and stabbed the power button.
He had had enough rock for one night. Enough that his face wouldn’t stop burning.
It sure as fuck would leave him rolling until the early hours.
He was completely off his rocker -nuts. He couldn’t hold anything together if he glued his hands in one! It’s rather unbelievable how little of reality he can actually grasp.
her old rocker on the rickety porch with the picket fence that guarded the brown grass swayed with the whispers of soft winds. the holey screen door slamming shut on a house that is empty now
Rock stars are interesting because the provide the global community something to identify with when it comes to music. Certain types of music aren’t for everybody it takes special people to like rock music and creat rock music in this day in age when rap is king.
his name was rocker, and he thought that made him really cool, but nobody else did. and so that made him the victim of intense bullying, only because his parents were high when they named him. and so he resorted to that himself, getting high to numb the pain. it is a vicious cycle
She sat in the chair watchin the other children play, but only because they were being noisy. She soon went back into the owrld of her book. She was envelpoed, maybe she couldn’t run and play like the other kids, but she was free with her book in her rocking chair.
she screams at him words of nothingness, of blackness, of blankness, and it tumbles out of her so fast and so hard they’re meaningless. he laughs. he laughs and laughs and laughs until she reaches out to hit him, but he just steps away.
“you’re off your rocker” he says to her.
she knows she is but he’s the one that pushed and pushed until she toppled over head over heels
“Smile!”
Blissfully unaware that a photo was about to be taken, my four-year-old self laughed, gaining speed, leaving the bad guys in hot, but fruitless pursuit of me and my valiant horse.
My mom laughed, pleased with how the momento had turned out.
I smiled, patting my trusty wooden steed. Mission accomplished once again.
A rocker guy was living out in the woods quietly and didn’t really go out often, as he was always full of supplies in food for long periods of time. One day though, his supply ran out. On his way out to get more he noticed that their were some people that were hiking in the distance.
Sometime I wonder how would it feel to be live like a rocker. Travelling on your bike from place to place. Meeting new peoples, experiencing new cultures. Not worrying about future and living in current moment only. Seems like fun.
Off her rocker. Lost her marbles. That’s what people say about Nina Mills, when they think she’s not listening. Any other “sensible” individual would have placed Orville into a cozy retirement home with wi-fi and cable TV and lots of beige uniformed underlings tending to him. But to keep him at their estate and take care of him herself because that’s “what he wanted,” well – that’s just crazy talk.
But Nina does listen, while she bags her groceries and takes them to her convertible. She’s always listening.
Rocker is someone who handles rocks. It doesn’t necessarily have to be someone who rocks on the stage. It could be someone who goes to a river beach and sits on a rocker. Or lives on breaking rocks. Rocking high!
There is this day that I woke up feeling like P. Diddy, and the whole golden blinky day change with the single message of an ex. So long for the feeling of greatness. Not a rocker no more.
You have put in the corner
the old rocking chair
that whispers as it goes back and forth
You have decided
on responsibility
and calm browns
Instead of being a rocker
with spiky, purple hair.
The mother was resting in the rocker with the baby upon her breast. The rocker had been made with the finest wood in the land. Her Hubby had made it for her.
The mother was resting in the rocker with her baby upon her breast. The moon was shining out side as bright as always. She had been busy the whole day getting ready for the guests.
old chair
doesn’t know how to come back.
Cracker Barrel has rows of brand new rockers lined upon on their large front porch. Many old-times and young ones too, like to sit and chat with their friends after they come out from having their meal. I miss those days when
The old rocker isn’t actually old, just designed to look that way. But it does have a cushion covered in cat fur and a cat to go with it. Don’t disturb him when he’s sitting on it, by the way. He doesn’t find that amusing at all.
The door was hard to open, the handle rusty and the hinges stuck. When it finally busted open, the inside was covered in cobwebs and a heavy film of dust. A rocking chair stood in the corner, seemingly tethered to the floor by the thick strands of cobweb that ran from its arms to the hardwood and the wall behind it.
This rocker came from my grandmother, its known to be haunted and rock by itself. Rumor is, if you sit in it long enough the ghost which rocks will take control of your body.
there once was an old woman who lived in her rocker. She never ever left. Her family was really concerned about her, and wanted to get rid of the rocker. She refused and threatened to disown her family if they sold her rocker. One night, when the old woman was asleep, they picked her up and took her off the rocker and sold it.
She went off her rocker. After he left her, after he took her baby she could face reality anymore. After all the panic attacks and angry outbursts she simply lost her mind.
“No way! You’ve got to be off your rocker to want me to do that!”
The boy, dashing baseball cap in hand, glared indignantly at his old grandmother, who was indeed not sitting on the sofa instead of on the rocking chair that was her usual resting place.
Beneath his feet, the stage was beating like the heart of a track star. He couldn’t even hear the sound of the guitars strumming next to him. They were singing his song like a sacred chant. He smiled, closed his eyes, and hoped to God that the tenth grade teacher who’d called him a loser, was out there somewhere feeling stupid.
rocker rockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrockerrocker
rock around the clock i wanna rock rock rock around the clock lalalalal.love a rock a dock a clock fo sho ma book. silly little rock split into a pebble you know hey! yeah buddy.
To lift you as high as I could was the best thing that I ever did that rainy morning. I was strong, you said, and then you exclaimed at the top of your lungs, “Well, that’s my favorite rocker out there!” I smiled, then you whispered, “even if you don’t have your guitar with you.” And nothing, nothing ever compares to the way you smiled at me that day.
Roight. That’s what Oi was. A real rock’n rollah. Oi ‘ad girls from ‘ere to Kingsbridge, Oi did. Let me tell yeh, mate, Oi’ve done drugs yeh’ve never seen mixed with drugs yeh cen’t efen spell. Loife was a neferendin’ party then. We’d stay up till 5 A.M, do enough o’ th’ good t’ kill a feckin’ elephant, then get up an hour later to start rehearsal. Oi’ll tell yeh more later, but roight now Oi gotta get the kids teh th’ mini van. Woife’s wantin’ teh film Jimmy’s game affer her spin class.
I can vividly remember my grandmother, when she was alive owning a rocker chair that was the joy of her life. No one could sit in her chair and we had to polish it every year. rest in peace grandma
my retirement
from which I’ll bounce my
bulbous grandchildren
The rocker rocked on a hard wooden floor. It wouldn’t be allowed today: too easy to rock too far forward or back and fall. I chose that rockker. My parents bought it though, as I was about four at the time. This is a real memory, enhanced (or otherwise changed) for the purposes of this exercise. I wonder if anyone will ever read thius? It could exist for thousands of years on a server somewhere, without ever having been read. What are the chances of loneliness? The Moon is a harsh mistress, but a loving mother.
Mikki had read various articles on social media about disabled rockers- people with spiked jackets and canes. Someone else even made a zine about it.
It was old and creaky, but it had provided comfort for generations of babies, snuggled warm and secure on the laps of their mothers. It was a soothing, wonderful chair that never ceased to make me smile.
Scared you’ll be back with your rocker-lezzie girlfriend? (nicky nichols)
i was going to the store. i ran into my friend. He was a rocker just like me. We loved to jam a lot so the two of us were connected in a way that many people on this world could be connected.
There are rocking chairs outside of Cracker Barrels. There are rocking chairs on the decks of old folks’ homes. When there is one rocking chair, all is well. When there are many, all in a row, you should probably try to escape. Craftsmen make the good ones out of wood. These suggest Tao. Do not buy any which were made in a factory.
I think every teenage girl has dreamed about dating a rock star. They possess a certain aura that makes us swoon. To me, if they can sing or play an instrument, I’m all yours. I admire talent and looks are secondary. Rock stars dress well, sometimes in leather or casual yet cool ripped clothes. Their carefree attitude and confidence are the most important things that drive us crazily in love.
My brother took the rocker from my Mom’s after she died. It was my Dad’s Mom’s rocker. It’s in good hands now. Again.
“HERE I AM.”
“ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE.”
The radio blared in the back of the gas station.
The manager grunted in disgust and stabbed the power button.
He had had enough rock for one night. Enough that his face wouldn’t stop burning.
It sure as fuck would leave him rolling until the early hours.
He was completely off his rocker -nuts. He couldn’t hold anything together if he glued his hands in one! It’s rather unbelievable how little of reality he can actually grasp.
her old rocker on the rickety porch with the picket fence that guarded the brown grass swayed with the whispers of soft winds. the holey screen door slamming shut on a house that is empty now
Rock stars are interesting because the provide the global community something to identify with when it comes to music. Certain types of music aren’t for everybody it takes special people to like rock music and creat rock music in this day in age when rap is king.
his name was rocker, and he thought that made him really cool, but nobody else did. and so that made him the victim of intense bullying, only because his parents were high when they named him. and so he resorted to that himself, getting high to numb the pain. it is a vicious cycle
She sat in the chair watchin the other children play, but only because they were being noisy. She soon went back into the owrld of her book. She was envelpoed, maybe she couldn’t run and play like the other kids, but she was free with her book in her rocking chair.
she screams at him words of nothingness, of blackness, of blankness, and it tumbles out of her so fast and so hard they’re meaningless. he laughs. he laughs and laughs and laughs until she reaches out to hit him, but he just steps away.
“you’re off your rocker” he says to her.
she knows she is but he’s the one that pushed and pushed until she toppled over head over heels
A punk star. A rocker. A roller. An ayatollah. Of speed. Remember the Night Rider.
“Smile!”
Blissfully unaware that a photo was about to be taken, my four-year-old self laughed, gaining speed, leaving the bad guys in hot, but fruitless pursuit of me and my valiant horse.
My mom laughed, pleased with how the momento had turned out.
I smiled, patting my trusty wooden steed. Mission accomplished once again.
A rocker guy was living out in the woods quietly and didn’t really go out often, as he was always full of supplies in food for long periods of time. One day though, his supply ran out. On his way out to get more he noticed that their were some people that were hiking in the distance.
Sometime I wonder how would it feel to be live like a rocker. Travelling on your bike from place to place. Meeting new peoples, experiencing new cultures. Not worrying about future and living in current moment only. Seems like fun.
Off her rocker. Lost her marbles. That’s what people say about Nina Mills, when they think she’s not listening. Any other “sensible” individual would have placed Orville into a cozy retirement home with wi-fi and cable TV and lots of beige uniformed underlings tending to him. But to keep him at their estate and take care of him herself because that’s “what he wanted,” well – that’s just crazy talk.
But Nina does listen, while she bags her groceries and takes them to her convertible. She’s always listening.
Rocker is someone who handles rocks. It doesn’t necessarily have to be someone who rocks on the stage. It could be someone who goes to a river beach and sits on a rocker. Or lives on breaking rocks. Rocking high!
There is this day that I woke up feeling like P. Diddy, and the whole golden blinky day change with the single message of an ex. So long for the feeling of greatness. Not a rocker no more.