a root if what keep something alive. it is the magic behind a living thing. it is the beautiful intertwining wir like branches that tangle and twist to create the love and the life of something. we all have a root. wheather is our family, or the root of a word, or the roots of our eye balls, we hava a root.
A root is such a simple thing but so complicated all teh same. Responsible for so much but given so little credit. I’m not just talking plants here I am talking about life. Everyone has a root and often they are overlooked. That one person that bases you and gives you everything that you could need is your root, just like a flower gets what it needs from its roots.
It’s branches extended like aching souls to the peak of the blue, blue sky. Roots, protruding from the earth like sea serpents out of the water, tripped me and made me realize just how large this great tree really was. It was obvious before, but now it’s largeness and enormous stature really impacted me.
Root
roots are the start of something beautiful.
A small seed gets planted, watered, and nourished.
From this seed, webs of tiny roots sprout.
Soon the plant shoots from the ground.
It eats from the roots.
This plant twists and coils into the air with the nourishment from the roots.
Then it bursts into a bright and beautiful flower.
The root of my days lays somewhere deep beneath the surface, it a buried by memories good and bad. As I come into my sixteenth year the begining gets a little further away and my days become a little more free.
rooted in the ground I cannot move. I try but the earth pulls me back down. Will I be stuck here forever? I’m afraid so. Tear me up and place me somewhere safe. Somewhere I actually belong.
tripping over the root, i looked up, gasping with fear. the large shadowed man stood over me, sword in hand. my foot was helplessly trapped. doom drifted around my head like a menacing breeze.
Our roots give us support and life. We are standing strong because of the grounding we have grown up. No roots are alike. They’re all so complex and crazy beautiful.
A root is something that grounds you. It ties you to the ground, the real world, your history, and reality. It gives you something to base a word, a thought, a life, or a way of living.
The root of my soul is that of a tree that is so deep inside but that expands taking information from all over making into one beautiful piece of nature.
A root of a tree is its foundation. It goes deep in the ground searching for water. What is my root? What am I searching for? My root is Christ, and I have found everything I need in Him. The water He gives me overflows. He is my strength. He keeps me grounded and strong in the midst of the storm. He is my root.
It was at the base. It was the first thing I noticed about him and the first thing that anyone would say when they saw us together. We must’ve worn it on our faces. Yes, we are! Screaming it there. Written right across our forehead. It’s true! It’s true! He never told me if he saw it in me too, but I always figured he had.
Home is the root of your life. You get your energy and life from it. You need the roots to keep you grounded and alive. We all need to thank our roots. They gave us life.
He let his fingers dig in deeper, claw harder, pull more. He couldn’t stop it, it was growing, spreading everywhere. To his roots, the core of him, every inch of his skin. It was too late to stop the madness from taking over, but he had to try. For Liam, all for Liam…
root beer. amazing, in a root beer float. roots of a tree, not as exciting, not as tasty. the root of and idea, floating around, spreading life. root me out, they say. the root cause of a problem, must be rooted out. some assholes just scream random things like root too. root root root.
My root, the basis of every thought, the foundation of my reality, is buried somewhere in the cellar of the written word. The desire to express oneself on the page is at the basis of our understanding of the world around us. When do we not want to write out our feelings, express our concerns, or share a great revelation?
like a tree i cling to the gravity of the situation. part of me knows i should just pick up and leave this place (or leaf it) but how can i abandon the ones i love, for my own self growth? is that selfish?
Root reminds me of base. Like the origin of things. Maybe root words, or etymology. My interest in etymology stems (haha, pun) from the fact that I am always interested in how/why things are the way they are. And
i used to have a boyfriend. his dog’s name was root. i killed my boyfriend after finding him fucking my older sister at a christmas party i threw. root now lives with me.
i used to love sucking on ginger root when i was 6. ginger made me feel special, and my grandma remembers me wanting to be a ginger root when i grew up. i hate ginger now. i have no idea why i once liked it or why i stopped. life is strange.
” Ouch!” I yelled. It was like the giant tree root came out of nowhere. Seriously, what else could go wrong today. The truck wouldn’t start so we could go anywhere. Mom is totally flipping out. I just don’t know what to do anymore.
The root of the question laid not in the verbage, in the the heart. deep in the heart. where rootbeer live, and you drink floats without a spoon. doesn’t it sound like summer? the smell of the leaves and grass beneath your sunburned ears, laying back in the cool pink evening.
many roots
roots have trees and then the root also stands for root beer which is a delicious drink that i love to buy in kmarkt everytime that I go with my mom. Root also knid of reminds me of pokemon for some reason. Root rhymes with boot and boot is somthing you can choose to wear on your foot, very funny story.
“Daddy, Abby said her mommy said I have bad roots. What does she mean?”
I saw him stare into the distance, right where the greensplattered forest ends and her golden meadow begins, and chuckle. He looked down on me, smiling his strange lopsided smile, and picked me up on his shoulders so smoothly that I could have easily been a bag of salt & vinegar chips.
“Don’t worry about it sweetie,” he whispered. “As long as I water you enough, you’ll be perfectly fine.”
Sometimes I regret not understanding his words until it was too late.
Climbing up the tree was not hard for John; he had much practice from his childhood days. As he reached the canopy of the Great Forest, he saw the most beautiful view he had ever seen in his life. Savoring the vista for a second more, John finally looked down, and did not like what he saw: roots.
something of a begining for another subject or any subject you simply just have to start there. Dirty, sub, gripping, origins. I guess mine are showing in some ways.
What is the root of all of this turmoil? Stuck on our mother’s tit until the age of 30, give me a moment to finish this job, this drive this hunt until I can be back, and then I’ll write you a poem. I have a song to sing, but I have to keep it in the shower. I have to keep it in my car, in my heart. Let me get done living before I can back to being alive. Let me root myself before I can grow.
What is the root of all this drama, all this turmoil? Stuck on our mother’s tit until the age of 30, give me a moment to finish this job, this drive this hunt until I can be back, and then I’ll write you a poem. Let me get done living before I can back to being alive. Let me root myself before I can grow.
a root if what keep something alive. it is the magic behind a living thing. it is the beautiful intertwining wir like branches that tangle and twist to create the love and the life of something. we all have a root. wheather is our family, or the root of a word, or the roots of our eye balls, we hava a root.
i am. no one can break my roots.
A root is such a simple thing but so complicated all teh same. Responsible for so much but given so little credit. I’m not just talking plants here I am talking about life. Everyone has a root and often they are overlooked. That one person that bases you and gives you everything that you could need is your root, just like a flower gets what it needs from its roots.
It’s branches extended like aching souls to the peak of the blue, blue sky. Roots, protruding from the earth like sea serpents out of the water, tripped me and made me realize just how large this great tree really was. It was obvious before, but now it’s largeness and enormous stature really impacted me.
Root
roots are the start of something beautiful.
A small seed gets planted, watered, and nourished.
From this seed, webs of tiny roots sprout.
Soon the plant shoots from the ground.
It eats from the roots.
This plant twists and coils into the air with the nourishment from the roots.
Then it bursts into a bright and beautiful flower.
I would go back to my roots
Given the chance
Given the boots
Built
To cover that forgotten ground
The root of my days lays somewhere deep beneath the surface, it a buried by memories good and bad. As I come into my sixteenth year the begining gets a little further away and my days become a little more free.
rooted in the ground I cannot move. I try but the earth pulls me back down. Will I be stuck here forever? I’m afraid so. Tear me up and place me somewhere safe. Somewhere I actually belong.
tripping over the root, i looked up, gasping with fear. the large shadowed man stood over me, sword in hand. my foot was helplessly trapped. doom drifted around my head like a menacing breeze.
Our roots give us support and life. We are standing strong because of the grounding we have grown up. No roots are alike. They’re all so complex and crazy beautiful.
A root is something that grounds you. It ties you to the ground, the real world, your history, and reality. It gives you something to base a word, a thought, a life, or a way of living.
The root of my soul is that of a tree that is so deep inside but that expands taking information from all over making into one beautiful piece of nature.
A root of a tree is its foundation. It goes deep in the ground searching for water. What is my root? What am I searching for? My root is Christ, and I have found everything I need in Him. The water He gives me overflows. He is my strength. He keeps me grounded and strong in the midst of the storm. He is my root.
It was at the base. It was the first thing I noticed about him and the first thing that anyone would say when they saw us together. We must’ve worn it on our faces. Yes, we are! Screaming it there. Written right across our forehead. It’s true! It’s true! He never told me if he saw it in me too, but I always figured he had.
Home is the root of your life. You get your energy and life from it. You need the roots to keep you grounded and alive. We all need to thank our roots. They gave us life.
He let his fingers dig in deeper, claw harder, pull more. He couldn’t stop it, it was growing, spreading everywhere. To his roots, the core of him, every inch of his skin. It was too late to stop the madness from taking over, but he had to try. For Liam, all for Liam…
root beer. amazing, in a root beer float. roots of a tree, not as exciting, not as tasty. the root of and idea, floating around, spreading life. root me out, they say. the root cause of a problem, must be rooted out. some assholes just scream random things like root too. root root root.
Root. It’s what keeps a plant alive and grounded, and it’s what we call our ancestors, and it has two Os so you can make it into a smiley face:)
the very bottom of a plant the basic that keep everything in place, or just a base of something,
word
tree
leaves
prefix
suffix
seed
plant
toot
boot
row
My root, the basis of every thought, the foundation of my reality, is buried somewhere in the cellar of the written word. The desire to express oneself on the page is at the basis of our understanding of the world around us. When do we not want to write out our feelings, express our concerns, or share a great revelation?
It reminds me of a beautiful picture of a tree in the sparkling moon light. The roots be underground but yet you can still see them.
like a tree i cling to the gravity of the situation. part of me knows i should just pick up and leave this place (or leaf it) but how can i abandon the ones i love, for my own self growth? is that selfish?
Root reminds me of base. Like the origin of things. Maybe root words, or etymology. My interest in etymology stems (haha, pun) from the fact that I am always interested in how/why things are the way they are. And
trees
deep
sentence
writing
life
plants
nature
i used to have a boyfriend. his dog’s name was root. i killed my boyfriend after finding him fucking my older sister at a christmas party i threw. root now lives with me.
i used to love sucking on ginger root when i was 6. ginger made me feel special, and my grandma remembers me wanting to be a ginger root when i grew up. i hate ginger now. i have no idea why i once liked it or why i stopped. life is strange.
” Ouch!” I yelled. It was like the giant tree root came out of nowhere. Seriously, what else could go wrong today. The truck wouldn’t start so we could go anywhere. Mom is totally flipping out. I just don’t know what to do anymore.
The root of the question laid not in the verbage, in the the heart. deep in the heart. where rootbeer live, and you drink floats without a spoon. doesn’t it sound like summer? the smell of the leaves and grass beneath your sunburned ears, laying back in the cool pink evening.
this website can’t break free either. been the same goddamn word for the past two hours. give me something free to write off of.
and yet, i keep coming back. clever bitch. root indeed.
Root is the very beginning of you, me and all living things. One would say that it is the most important part of any being. It is the entrance tha
The roots of her interest gradually withered as it was forced away from within her. So tedious. No longer having a purpose, she cracked to dust.
many roots
roots have trees and then the root also stands for root beer which is a delicious drink that i love to buy in kmarkt everytime that I go with my mom. Root also knid of reminds me of pokemon for some reason. Root rhymes with boot and boot is somthing you can choose to wear on your foot, very funny story.
“Daddy, Abby said her mommy said I have bad roots. What does she mean?”
I saw him stare into the distance, right where the greensplattered forest ends and her golden meadow begins, and chuckle. He looked down on me, smiling his strange lopsided smile, and picked me up on his shoulders so smoothly that I could have easily been a bag of salt & vinegar chips.
“Don’t worry about it sweetie,” he whispered. “As long as I water you enough, you’ll be perfectly fine.”
Sometimes I regret not understanding his words until it was too late.
Climbing up the tree was not hard for John; he had much practice from his childhood days. As he reached the canopy of the Great Forest, he saw the most beautiful view he had ever seen in his life. Savoring the vista for a second more, John finally looked down, and did not like what he saw: roots.
The root of the tree that grounds me to this place in which I do not want to be.
I want to be free.
Free from these roots that bind me,
that tangle me,
that keep me sitting here lonely
When all I really want is to flee
something of a begining for another subject or any subject you simply just have to start there. Dirty, sub, gripping, origins. I guess mine are showing in some ways.
plants, flowers, problems, leafs, potatoes, onions, carrots, radish, dirt, soil, stem, brown
What is the root of all of this turmoil? Stuck on our mother’s tit until the age of 30, give me a moment to finish this job, this drive this hunt until I can be back, and then I’ll write you a poem. I have a song to sing, but I have to keep it in the shower. I have to keep it in my car, in my heart. Let me get done living before I can back to being alive. Let me root myself before I can grow.
What is the root of all this drama, all this turmoil? Stuck on our mother’s tit until the age of 30, give me a moment to finish this job, this drive this hunt until I can be back, and then I’ll write you a poem. Let me get done living before I can back to being alive. Let me root myself before I can grow.