Dirt. The giver of life, origin of all. All, according to the Bible, anyway. The flesh of our flesh, the blood of our blood. Soil, where we all came from, and where we’ll all end up.
That’s all I could think about, when the first spadeful of it hit her coffin. She was returning to where she belonged. And I, I was left here waiting. Waiting for her to come around, waiting for me to come to her, like she used to wait for her pretty little roses to come peeping out of the soil.
It’s ruined. It’s got no nutrients left. I’m just left with this unyielding clay, and I just can’t bear to put hand to till anymore, because it’s a lot of effort, and nothing to show for it–nothing grows here anymore.
i am soiled by this thing that exists between us. I don’t know what will clean me. I scrub and scrub, but the stain remains. I need to jump these puddles of dirt that is our relationship but you are too compelling…
food chocolate alot of things actually i mean really the letter S? wats that all about? lol i am bored here seriously y soil? is this Philosophy? i dont know but still i dont liek the idea of soil sorry cant think of anything
As he trudged through thr dry soil he saw the one which he had loved for so many years…sadly she was with another and he had become alone once again, without purpose and without meaning he writes, about things that are not usually written about, such as soil.
Soil is one of the key ingrediants in healthy plant growth along with the right amount of water and sunlight a plant can become to its most fruitful stage with the most healthiest of soil.
Pushing the plants into the soil she sighed loudly. Once again she was here, in the middle of the night still trying to make this greenhouse the way she had intended. She wanted to make it beautiful, full of beautiful flowers, huge bushes and things she could use in the kitchen. These herbs would be a brilliant addition to every recipe.
My soul feels soiled and sullied by external pressures. Daily, I learn to cope. I learn to go deep within, to the inner quiet, reserves that I didn’t know I had until I needed it. Fertile soiling, as it were.
i stood, barefoot, in the dark, rich soil. my friends danced around me, taking pictures, doing cartwheels, laughing. i thanked any being up there for the beautiful life they bestowed on me, a little girl in california.
I dip my hands into the soil and lift a large lump of earth. It is black and rich and feels cold between my hands. I want to be the earth. I want to bring life where there was none before. I wish to be cold and loving.
She dug at the dark soil with her bare hands. It was cool and smelled of the earth. It settled under her fingernails as she created a hole. She placed a seed in the hole. She smiled as she swept the dirt over the seed. “Life giving life”, she thought. The soil feeding the seed, the seed returning to the soil.
I watch the sky grow deep and dark
And shadows roam across the ground
the earth soaks up the quenching rain
as the soil turns deep and dark
Matching the sky
Rain fell from the sky. Mud sunk between his toes. Despite the disgusting noises the ground was making as he jumped around in the mud, the feeling of the wet soil on his feet was wonderful.
The soil beneath our feet in our old home in Virginia was never that great. Or at least, that’s what father always told us. Almost every day, we were woken up early, and were sent out the fields to tame this rough country.
A dramatic lurch into a black abyss also known as the dirt. I am nothing more than a tree…or better yet, a life form known as a tree. I grow…oh, this is all too deep for me. If all I am is a tree, why am I talking about it? It isn’t all that interesting. I’d rather be the soil. At least then I’d feel useful.
There once was an old man, who happened to soil himself.
He wasn’t sure what to do, he just sat there, waiting.
He thought about his life and what he would have done in the past if he’d soiled himself, but he just couldn’t muster the energy to do it now.
If the soil were better, she thought to herself, if the soil were better, I could grow vegetables, and then I would be rich. I the soil were better, and if it rained more. If it rained more then perhaps I could make a business of selling flowers and food. If only if only.
Soil pours into my mouth. I can’t believe how much there is. It seems like I can dig forever and still find more and more and more. My hands are chapped and raw. My mouth is filling up. I’m gonna drown. Wait. Wait. My hand breaks through to the surface of the world – Salvation.
this is a place for those pseudo-poets, care about me and what i say, i’m interesting, im really cool, i matter. soil is the pants of all those pretenders when they realize no one gives a shit of what they wrote, and that they dont actually write original poetry/waords for themselves, its for you.
soil is the ground of the earth. all nature comes up from soil. its dark, its deep, its embedded in the world. no need to lie, no need to cry, without soil, we’d die. no need to fear, its always near.
i wathced as they destroyed the home and dumped the remains into a garbage pit, soiling the earthe even more than they already had. I wwas so upset, i started to cry as i am an actavist for the green movement for our planet, earth!!!
Soil is such a wonderful thing. It is what god created us from, and it is what we become when we die. It creates life in plants, animals, and help create and destroy nature. It processes everything in this world, and Is always going to be here. Soil, whether its hard or soft, is a magical thing that provides for us.
Soil is dirty and I don’t like it.
dirt wet mud grass earth rain kids
dirt, wet mud, grass, earth
dirt and ground, wet mud.
dirt and ground, wet mud.
He planted his strawberry seeds in the soil.
She rolled over them with her concrete mixer and cement.
Dirt. The giver of life, origin of all. All, according to the Bible, anyway. The flesh of our flesh, the blood of our blood. Soil, where we all came from, and where we’ll all end up.
That’s all I could think about, when the first spadeful of it hit her coffin. She was returning to where she belonged. And I, I was left here waiting. Waiting for her to come around, waiting for me to come to her, like she used to wait for her pretty little roses to come peeping out of the soil.
The precious soil of my land,
I yearn for it
I miss my land
Oh, why did I have to leave
I had no choice but to leave
Oh the precious soil of my land…
It has aroma of fresh rain…
the soil of my land..
Soiled. Dirty. Ruined.
She rolled over in her bed, hugging herself and sobbing softly into the sheets. She felt so wrong, almost inhuman.
Soiled. Dirty. Ruined.
It’s ruined. It’s got no nutrients left. I’m just left with this unyielding clay, and I just can’t bear to put hand to till anymore, because it’s a lot of effort, and nothing to show for it–nothing grows here anymore.
Dirt. The earth. The very foundation of the planet. Plants couldn’t survive without it, so neither could we.
In the soil was the the oil
Where the soldiers did toil
In the Gulf that was turmoil.
i am soiled by this thing that exists between us. I don’t know what will clean me. I scrub and scrub, but the stain remains. I need to jump these puddles of dirt that is our relationship but you are too compelling…
food chocolate alot of things actually i mean really the letter S? wats that all about? lol i am bored here seriously y soil? is this Philosophy? i dont know but still i dont liek the idea of soil sorry cant think of anything
dirt
garden
plant
flower
earth
sun
oil
dark
brown
black
grey
rebirth
life
new
mushy
gets under your fingernails
green thumb
As he trudged through thr dry soil he saw the one which he had loved for so many years…sadly she was with another and he had become alone once again, without purpose and without meaning he writes, about things that are not usually written about, such as soil.
Soil is one of the key ingrediants in healthy plant growth along with the right amount of water and sunlight a plant can become to its most fruitful stage with the most healthiest of soil.
Pushing the plants into the soil she sighed loudly. Once again she was here, in the middle of the night still trying to make this greenhouse the way she had intended. She wanted to make it beautiful, full of beautiful flowers, huge bushes and things she could use in the kitchen. These herbs would be a brilliant addition to every recipe.
does whatever one pleases
My soul feels soiled and sullied by external pressures. Daily, I learn to cope. I learn to go deep within, to the inner quiet, reserves that I didn’t know I had until I needed it. Fertile soiling, as it were.
i stood, barefoot, in the dark, rich soil. my friends danced around me, taking pictures, doing cartwheels, laughing. i thanked any being up there for the beautiful life they bestowed on me, a little girl in california.
soil is bit of sand which consists of silicon soil is wet & gud sand can be used for growing plants
that which comes out my butt.
I dip my hands into the soil and lift a large lump of earth. It is black and rich and feels cold between my hands. I want to be the earth. I want to bring life where there was none before. I wish to be cold and loving.
soil.. many forms sand in the sea, rock learnt about soil mechanics history little bit today rock mechanics developed after soil mechanics
dirt dirt dirty pillows plants bedding soil.
She dug at the dark soil with her bare hands. It was cool and smelled of the earth. It settled under her fingernails as she created a hole. She placed a seed in the hole. She smiled as she swept the dirt over the seed. “Life giving life”, she thought. The soil feeding the seed, the seed returning to the soil.
As I dug and scracthed at the soil, all it offered up was darkness and stain…nothing growing, nothing like life.
I watch the sky grow deep and dark
And shadows roam across the ground
the earth soaks up the quenching rain
as the soil turns deep and dark
Matching the sky
Rain fell from the sky. Mud sunk between his toes. Despite the disgusting noises the ground was making as he jumped around in the mud, the feeling of the wet soil on his feet was wonderful.
The soil beneath our feet in our old home in Virginia was never that great. Or at least, that’s what father always told us. Almost every day, we were woken up early, and were sent out the fields to tame this rough country.
A dramatic lurch into a black abyss also known as the dirt. I am nothing more than a tree…or better yet, a life form known as a tree. I grow…oh, this is all too deep for me. If all I am is a tree, why am I talking about it? It isn’t all that interesting. I’d rather be the soil. At least then I’d feel useful.
There once was an old man, who happened to soil himself.
He wasn’t sure what to do, he just sat there, waiting.
He thought about his life and what he would have done in the past if he’d soiled himself, but he just couldn’t muster the energy to do it now.
If the soil were better, she thought to herself, if the soil were better, I could grow vegetables, and then I would be rich. I the soil were better, and if it rained more. If it rained more then perhaps I could make a business of selling flowers and food. If only if only.
Soil pours into my mouth. I can’t believe how much there is. It seems like I can dig forever and still find more and more and more. My hands are chapped and raw. My mouth is filling up. I’m gonna drown. Wait. Wait. My hand breaks through to the surface of the world – Salvation.
this is a place for those pseudo-poets, care about me and what i say, i’m interesting, im really cool, i matter. soil is the pants of all those pretenders when they realize no one gives a shit of what they wrote, and that they dont actually write original poetry/waords for themselves, its for you.
soil is the ground of the earth. all nature comes up from soil. its dark, its deep, its embedded in the world. no need to lie, no need to cry, without soil, we’d die. no need to fear, its always near.
i wathced as they destroyed the home and dumped the remains into a garbage pit, soiling the earthe even more than they already had. I wwas so upset, i started to cry as i am an actavist for the green movement for our planet, earth!!!
dirt that covers a dead body
never ending life
eternal
body
decays
soul remains
a living breathing statue
watching in the night
Soil is such a wonderful thing. It is what god created us from, and it is what we become when we die. It creates life in plants, animals, and help create and destroy nature. It processes everything in this world, and Is always going to be here. Soil, whether its hard or soft, is a magical thing that provides for us.