It was raining so hard that her hair stuck to her head like a second skin. Rivulets of water dripped down her face, her back, and she was shivering to the bone, to the heart. Shelter, shelter. No shelter from the rain, no shelter from the pain.
shelter is a place where you are safe from the storm. hopefully someone is there with you. sometimes shelter is someone. hopefully that someone is the one. the best kind of shelter is warm and dry, and kind and gentle. and if that someone wraps you in an afghan blanket and kisses you as you drift off to sleep.
shelter is a place where you are safe from the storm. and hopefully someone is there with you. sometimes shelter is someone. hopefully that someone is the one. the best kind of shelter is warm and kind and dry, and wraps you in an afghan blanket as you drift off to sleep.
place where you lay your head at night. presumably full of things. but maybe that’s just a consumerist way of looking at it. generally considered a basic human need. plenty of people, though, living without fixed shelter or abode. cover from the rain. warm, hopefully. place of comfort and of joy. shelter from the rainnn
Home is where the heart is. But my heart travels with me all over the world and the only time I really feel at home is in the city I was born. NYC…the shelter of millions. My home.
The stairs wound around the iron pole, rising from the basement to the dust-filled loft. The sunlight streamed through the circular window, catching the particles as they floated through the air, igniting them for an instant.
She crawled to the far end of the room, seeking shelter from the heat.
I was under the bleak winds of Henavd, the land where all witches go when the first full moon enters there teenage years. I could feel grass seeping through the gaps between my toes, I could see a place that was my own paradise. I could hear something too, not the wind, not the trees. I could hear a voice that was, as far as I was concerned, unfamiliar.
“Come my child, come live with us in the forest. Come to me Elis….”
The voice trailed away, I was scared. There was someone here who knew my name, I herd footsteps, I fell. I was too freaked out to struggle, even if I had tried, the immense force of whatever the footsteps had come from compacting me so that I could not move. I was being kidnapped…..
I sat in the musty shelter. There I was safe. I knew that I would not be safe for long though, the cordon would not hold for much longer. I saw it. I panicked.
Warm and cozy, he crawled into the improvised shelter which would grant him rest for the night. The fire was warm and saved him from the clutches of the cold outside.
It was a grand three storey house, five bedrooms, and even a master hallway. It was his. Beautifully decorated, and his children had their own annexe in which to play with their friends and live a more independent life to themselves, away from the watchful eyes of grown-ups.
A chill draught made him shiver slightly, and reaching out, he pulled his son’s sleeping bag a little tighter around his head to keep him warm, and huddled himself deeper into his own bag. The icy breeze blowing in from Lake Michigan funnelled in between the bridges, and rasped noisily against the tent’s side. They were dry under the bridges, at least, and the soporific effect of the cold made the nights thankfully shorter. As the low din of rush hour traffic woke them shortly after dawn, his children could make the long trek in to school again, and find food they gone without the night before. Maybe with an education, they would find a way out of this tent.
And in that moment I knew it was time for me to bid adieu to everything I knew before today, and everything I’d planned for after it. I was no longer the naive youth I took refuge in, and this newfound adulthood just didn’t sit well in my stomach. It was time to run away.
shelter is very important. trees provide shelter for animals. my shelter is my home. i love my shelter. shelter is necessary. we all need shelter. some people don’t have shelter. they are unlucky, we should help them.
“Shelter to the left, soup kitchen to the right, warm alley full of usable cardboard boxes straight ahead. Welcome to North O.” Joey smiled and swept one hand out.
The grand tour was brief and depressing, but I had no home now, so I was going to take what I could.
“Pick a spot and fight off anyone who tries to claim it,” Joey said.
I left my home because it wasn’t warm. And my ears were too big to keep it from catching all the cold my parents felt necessary in order to make me a man. Now I sleep under cold skies with warms hearts and full wishes.
“What will you be doing tomorrow night?” she asked.
“I will be out at the shelter. Ted asked me to help out,” he said. “It is spare time for me. I don’t have plans.”
“I was going to ask you out,” she said.
“It is already fixed. He is short of people and they can be a bit busy out there. I said I would help.”
under the branches i huddle, my shelter from the weather. a pot of soup simmers on the fire, miraculously dry in the storm. soup? really water, leaves and twigs mixed in a bucket. my tree, the redbud tree out back.
“She’s kind of cute,” he says. “But she’s also a true blushing virgin, if there ever is such a thing. She’s so clueless! I tried to put the moves on her, but she doesn’t get it. A sheltered child, I’d say.”
I laugh at how much this bothers him. Clearly, society has changed and evolved the morals of man. Or at least, of this man.
The shelter was primitive, but it was better than nothing — certainly better than standing out and getting rained on. If she positioned herself right, she wouldn’t be under any of the holes in the roof. If she had to sleep there, that would mean lying down, and she’d get wet, yes, but for now, that wasn’t a problem. No one else in the hiking group could sing worth a flip, and that’s what they were doing to pass the time, and no one could sleep through that. It was going to be a long night.
They huddled in the corner, her once-bright red sweater now faded and torn where she caught it on the corner of the mission’s cafeteria table yesterday morning. She thought back to this time last summer, when Brian had just gotten word of his promotion. She thought they were on top of the world, and for all practical purposes, they were. Unfortunately, they would never be there again.
so many want it but they never could get the chance to grasp something so intangible, so unfeeling, and so distant. its light went out like a beacon of fading hope along the front lines of an impending mental war zone of past words, thoughts, careless actions and stoic shoulders.
A shelter can either be home or protection. For those who have a home, shelter is their house. For those with next to nothing, shelter is protection. Protection from those who care from the outside world where most people don’t care at all about those “below” them.
The shelter was 3 feet by 4 feet. it was just big enough for one person to sit. the man sat and sat in his shelter trying to catch a fish through a hole in the ice. nothing was biting but the frost and cold winds outside his shelter.
shelter is a place where you can run if you’re unsure of what’s outside, in the dark, when you’re at your most vulnerable. it’s a place of sanctuary. a place you can bring your biggest hopes and darkest fears, knowing that you’ll have the space to think them out safely
I ran into the forest. The light barely penetrated through the thickets of branches providing shelter above. I could feel the rage behind me, the storm of emotions tearing past the brush. I needed somewhere to hide. I needed shelter. I saw a cabin in the distance. The light was on inside and I could see a frail silhouette dancing beyond the window. He came into the clearing behind me. Time was up.
Shelter in the storm. Doesn’t mean the storm stops. Just means that you can have a place to catch your breath, warm up, dry off, gather your wits about you, reformulate your plan, sleep, be nourished. Rest. And become brave enough to re-enter the storm for a time.
homeless shelters. Where people start new beginnings after the world throws them a curveball. Shelter from the elements, the haters, the strangers, the dirt, the cold sidewalk.
Out of the three essential things in life, we take shelter for granted. We may have food to eat and clothes to wear, but if we don’t have a place we can call home, we are no one.
That the internet wasn’t working did not seem at all ironic to my brother. The problem with him had always been less his comedic flatness and really much more his lonely arrogance. The dreamy cover that we couldn’t have provided him as well as other tools which had constantly surrounded him but at that moment were not, led, in their respective interminability and temporary vanishment, to his vanishment.
We had to find somewhere, some place to take shelter. It had been all over the news, we all knew it was coming. No one knew when it was going to come. It could come from either shore, and no one would know which one would come first.
I once visited a shelter in orange county. It was for teenage girls pregnant because of an abuse case. It as the single most impacting experience ever. Wow, I can’t believe I forgot that until now. I remember walking in seeing 8 girls were seated around a large dinner table. None of the girls looked pregnant. They looked like any average 15 year old girl and than they all stood up. Baby Bump.
i must find shelter if i want to make it through tonight, not even five and it’s starting to get chilly. There isn’t really to much to build with around.
It was raining so hard that her hair stuck to her head like a second skin. Rivulets of water dripped down her face, her back, and she was shivering to the bone, to the heart. Shelter, shelter. No shelter from the rain, no shelter from the pain.
Gimme shelter. Man first protecting himself against the elements with his arms. Then sticks, then stones.
A history of man creating environments in which to make life.
A place to live
A sanctuary
Home
Peace
cover from the elements
love and care
protection
Shelter.
shelter is a place where you are safe from the storm. hopefully someone is there with you. sometimes shelter is someone. hopefully that someone is the one. the best kind of shelter is warm and dry, and kind and gentle. and if that someone wraps you in an afghan blanket and kisses you as you drift off to sleep.
shelter is a place where you are safe from the storm. and hopefully someone is there with you. sometimes shelter is someone. hopefully that someone is the one. the best kind of shelter is warm and kind and dry, and wraps you in an afghan blanket as you drift off to sleep.
place where you lay your head at night. presumably full of things. but maybe that’s just a consumerist way of looking at it. generally considered a basic human need. plenty of people, though, living without fixed shelter or abode. cover from the rain. warm, hopefully. place of comfort and of joy. shelter from the rainnn
a roof over my head. keeps the rain off.
Home is where the heart is. But my heart travels with me all over the world and the only time I really feel at home is in the city I was born. NYC…the shelter of millions. My home.
The stairs wound around the iron pole, rising from the basement to the dust-filled loft. The sunlight streamed through the circular window, catching the particles as they floated through the air, igniting them for an instant.
She crawled to the far end of the room, seeking shelter from the heat.
I was under the bleak winds of Henavd, the land where all witches go when the first full moon enters there teenage years. I could feel grass seeping through the gaps between my toes, I could see a place that was my own paradise. I could hear something too, not the wind, not the trees. I could hear a voice that was, as far as I was concerned, unfamiliar.
“Come my child, come live with us in the forest. Come to me Elis….”
The voice trailed away, I was scared. There was someone here who knew my name, I herd footsteps, I fell. I was too freaked out to struggle, even if I had tried, the immense force of whatever the footsteps had come from compacting me so that I could not move. I was being kidnapped…..
This was not written in 60 seconds.
I sat in the musty shelter. There I was safe. I knew that I would not be safe for long though, the cordon would not hold for much longer. I saw it. I panicked.
I ran straight across the fields right into the shelter. It was damp and dark. I could feel something watching me.
Warm and cozy, he crawled into the improvised shelter which would grant him rest for the night. The fire was warm and saved him from the clutches of the cold outside.
It was a grand three storey house, five bedrooms, and even a master hallway. It was his. Beautifully decorated, and his children had their own annexe in which to play with their friends and live a more independent life to themselves, away from the watchful eyes of grown-ups.
A chill draught made him shiver slightly, and reaching out, he pulled his son’s sleeping bag a little tighter around his head to keep him warm, and huddled himself deeper into his own bag. The icy breeze blowing in from Lake Michigan funnelled in between the bridges, and rasped noisily against the tent’s side. They were dry under the bridges, at least, and the soporific effect of the cold made the nights thankfully shorter. As the low din of rush hour traffic woke them shortly after dawn, his children could make the long trek in to school again, and find food they gone without the night before. Maybe with an education, they would find a way out of this tent.
And in that moment I knew it was time for me to bid adieu to everything I knew before today, and everything I’d planned for after it. I was no longer the naive youth I took refuge in, and this newfound adulthood just didn’t sit well in my stomach. It was time to run away.
shelter is very important. trees provide shelter for animals. my shelter is my home. i love my shelter. shelter is necessary. we all need shelter. some people don’t have shelter. they are unlucky, we should help them.
“Shelter to the left, soup kitchen to the right, warm alley full of usable cardboard boxes straight ahead. Welcome to North O.” Joey smiled and swept one hand out.
The grand tour was brief and depressing, but I had no home now, so I was going to take what I could.
“Pick a spot and fight off anyone who tries to claim it,” Joey said.
“What if they got there first?”
“It’s yours now.”
covered… my head protected… warmth and love… making me small and safe….nesting with you…I am okay
The garden was covered in rubble dust
Next door’s attempt at patio laid to waste
Taking up their next door’s space
I left my home because it wasn’t warm. And my ears were too big to keep it from catching all the cold my parents felt necessary in order to make me a man. Now I sleep under cold skies with warms hearts and full wishes.
“What will you be doing tomorrow night?” she asked.
“I will be out at the shelter. Ted asked me to help out,” he said. “It is spare time for me. I don’t have plans.”
“I was going to ask you out,” she said.
“It is already fixed. He is short of people and they can be a bit busy out there. I said I would help.”
under the branches i huddle, my shelter from the weather. a pot of soup simmers on the fire, miraculously dry in the storm. soup? really water, leaves and twigs mixed in a bucket. my tree, the redbud tree out back.
“She’s kind of cute,” he says. “But she’s also a true blushing virgin, if there ever is such a thing. She’s so clueless! I tried to put the moves on her, but she doesn’t get it. A sheltered child, I’d say.”
I laugh at how much this bothers him. Clearly, society has changed and evolved the morals of man. Or at least, of this man.
The shelter was primitive, but it was better than nothing — certainly better than standing out and getting rained on. If she positioned herself right, she wouldn’t be under any of the holes in the roof. If she had to sleep there, that would mean lying down, and she’d get wet, yes, but for now, that wasn’t a problem. No one else in the hiking group could sing worth a flip, and that’s what they were doing to pass the time, and no one could sleep through that. It was going to be a long night.
Home. A safe place to be, to take shelter from the elements, to feel protected. Great thing to be able to take with you.
to seek shelter from the aftermath of us is futile and yet i still try, even with the phantom memories still fresh on my mind.
They huddled in the corner, her once-bright red sweater now faded and torn where she caught it on the corner of the mission’s cafeteria table yesterday morning. She thought back to this time last summer, when Brian had just gotten word of his promotion. She thought they were on top of the world, and for all practical purposes, they were. Unfortunately, they would never be there again.
so many want it but they never could get the chance to grasp something so intangible, so unfeeling, and so distant. its light went out like a beacon of fading hope along the front lines of an impending mental war zone of past words, thoughts, careless actions and stoic shoulders.
A shelter can either be home or protection. For those who have a home, shelter is their house. For those with next to nothing, shelter is protection. Protection from those who care from the outside world where most people don’t care at all about those “below” them.
The shelter was 3 feet by 4 feet. it was just big enough for one person to sit. the man sat and sat in his shelter trying to catch a fish through a hole in the ice. nothing was biting but the frost and cold winds outside his shelter.
shelter is a place where you can run if you’re unsure of what’s outside, in the dark, when you’re at your most vulnerable. it’s a place of sanctuary. a place you can bring your biggest hopes and darkest fears, knowing that you’ll have the space to think them out safely
Ohhh, murder. It’s just a shot away. It’s just a shot away.
Safe, loving, out of the rain.
I ran into the forest. The light barely penetrated through the thickets of branches providing shelter above. I could feel the rage behind me, the storm of emotions tearing past the brush. I needed somewhere to hide. I needed shelter. I saw a cabin in the distance. The light was on inside and I could see a frail silhouette dancing beyond the window. He came into the clearing behind me. Time was up.
Shelter in the storm. Doesn’t mean the storm stops. Just means that you can have a place to catch your breath, warm up, dry off, gather your wits about you, reformulate your plan, sleep, be nourished. Rest. And become brave enough to re-enter the storm for a time.
homeless shelters. Where people start new beginnings after the world throws them a curveball. Shelter from the elements, the haters, the strangers, the dirt, the cold sidewalk.
Out of the three essential things in life, we take shelter for granted. We may have food to eat and clothes to wear, but if we don’t have a place we can call home, we are no one.
That the internet wasn’t working did not seem at all ironic to my brother. The problem with him had always been less his comedic flatness and really much more his lonely arrogance. The dreamy cover that we couldn’t have provided him as well as other tools which had constantly surrounded him but at that moment were not, led, in their respective interminability and temporary vanishment, to his vanishment.
We had to find somewhere, some place to take shelter. It had been all over the news, we all knew it was coming. No one knew when it was going to come. It could come from either shore, and no one would know which one would come first.
I once visited a shelter in orange county. It was for teenage girls pregnant because of an abuse case. It as the single most impacting experience ever. Wow, I can’t believe I forgot that until now. I remember walking in seeing 8 girls were seated around a large dinner table. None of the girls looked pregnant. They looked like any average 15 year old girl and than they all stood up. Baby Bump.
i must find shelter if i want to make it through tonight, not even five and it’s starting to get chilly. There isn’t really to much to build with around.