She hated doing the laundry. Separating, folding, measuring. The never ending bottle of tide was always a heavy adornment on the top of her heaping basket.
Tide rolls in, and brings sandy brackish water to my mouth. I can’t get up and out of this water, no matter how cold. The sun is no help as I’m soaked through. What beach is this? Where am I now?
Tide is detergent. It cleans clothes. I don’t clean clothes. Tide does. It’s a brand name that I trust. Like Heinz, like Band-Aid, like Kleenex. When the Tide turns so does my laundry.
I hate going to the beach. I don’t know if I hate it because the sand gets everywhere and outstays its welcome by months. Or if I hate the wind, which blows the sand into my teeth and eyes. Or if I hate the sun. Or if I hate it because others love it so much more than I do.
The tides of life are always turning. Just when you think you feel comfortable, swimming out to the safety of life’s beach, the tide sweeps you back in with a devilish undertow.
the waves come in and the waves roll the ebbing of time one letter removed a way to wash the ills of the day and begin anew just like the laundry is sudsy
The tide is in the tide is out. Who cares? I don’t. I’d be just as happy if the ocean took a break and sat still for one damn minute. Go on take a break ocean, everyone else does. What would happen if it stopped? I don’t wonder.
Tide. The water lapping against the barren shore, the waves licking at the pebbly sand, the smell of a perfect storm lingering somewhere out, over the vast lake before me. I cannot fathom it. I cannot bear it. I cannot. Not another storm.
change is something that happens all the time, our lives are constant with change, but we feel the need to fight it every step of the way. let go, breathe it in and accept that the tide will come back eventually.
The tide is high but I’m holding on. I hated playing that song on the piano. It was awful. And now all I can think of is some whiny girl voices singing it in my head. Why do the voices have to be so whiny? Why? And now I find myself wanting to listen to it.
I remember that day we went to the beach. My parents kept walking, out to the dock but I stayed at the shore and just stared. The waves were bigger than I had ever seen them. I just kept looking, until my parents called for me. True story.
My mom bought some Tide laundry detergent the other day. They were on sale, and she wanted to use them as part of a gift for the high school graduates in the neighborhood. For the change of tide (and times) they’re experiencing.
The tide washes in and out in Destin, slowly allowing the oil to creep onto the beaches. A little girl stands on the beach in her pink swimsuit and movie star sunglasses, distraught over the condition of the water.
Did you ever get the feeling of life rushing toward you to slowly overwhelm like a rising tide? The fact is sometimes life builds it’s strifes to the point of drowning and there is nothing you can do…
The tide washed up around my feet as I stared into the distance and thought about what I had done. Only moments before I felt her warm embrace. She now lay, face down in the bedroom of our hotel room. The sheets are soaked with her bodily fluids and the only thing I can think of is I can’t wait to do it again.
I saw the tide come in. It was awesome. I realized that there was nothing else I could do at that point but cut my losses and offer up the best of my abilities. I missed the way it was. I missed the way everything seemed to fall into place. But that was over. Washed away in the tide.
The tide, it’s been so high this season, washing away all the sand. There is a thin sliver of land where we gaze out and your rushing sound, your rushing noise, your subtle rushing.
the ocean comes in and out and the melodic rhythm soothes as much as it numbs. the tide recedes and surges white foam crescents topped with specks of black. mica glistening sand, and briny odor overwhelmed the senses.
The tide began to slowly creep in on the crab that I was watching crawl along the beach, and I began to wonder whether or not his tenacity would outweigh the collective physical forces set upon him.
when the tide is high it is because of the pull of the moon. or so we are told. i’m frightened of what the tide can bring in. i remember one too many dead fish on the beach as a child. the smell was horrendous. i guess i have more time to write because i pressed the back button arrow. this isn’t about tides anymore. oh well. i have to give them my name? why?
tide, all, bounty, they were all sitting on the shelf in front of my face. When did buying detergent become so hard? Why doesn’t anyone give you a crash course on how to do laundry?
The ocean. Massive. Mysterious. Two divers uncover a secret that may hold our very origins in their hands. An hour long series that will explore the questions we ask ourselves every day.
washing up and over my feet. tiny bits of stone between my toes. wriggling through the bubbles. looking through my tears. wishing so desperately that you were here. so silent and sweet.
Did you ever get the feeling like your life was rushing toward you, slowly building weight like the oncoming tide? I have that feeling now and again, when the mundane truths of every day life build and build until they swell to the point of drowning you.
The tide falls and crashes down on the sands of time. Time moves, like the sand and the creatures in the sea, in a steady, yet unpredictable path. Embrace the unpredictable.
The tide had come in. Jenny gasped as water splashed over her face, and quickly got to her feet, her wet hair slapping her neck. Disoriented, she looked around, shaking with cold as she quickly grabbed her soaking wet belongings, searching for a way out of her rocky, and now wet, prison.
sitting on the edge of the ocean, listening to the tide. The tide bringing little rocks up to my feet, then leaving then behind like an abandoned baby. It’s like the world. The world that picks you up in their tides. The media, peers, all of them, just picking you up in your tide and eventually dropping you off to die.
The tides are high on the shores today and maybe it’s because the solar flares are acting up again. At least that is what I tell myself every timeI have a bad day. I twisted my ankle and now my carpet smells like frozen peas. I wish the sun would behave.
Much like a receeding tide, their marriage ended with a vast emptiness of space littered with discarded memories of the time the spent together.
She hated doing the laundry. Separating, folding, measuring. The never ending bottle of tide was always a heavy adornment on the top of her heaping basket.
Tide rolls in, and brings sandy brackish water to my mouth. I can’t get up and out of this water, no matter how cold. The sun is no help as I’m soaked through. What beach is this? Where am I now?
Tide is detergent. It cleans clothes. I don’t clean clothes. Tide does. It’s a brand name that I trust. Like Heinz, like Band-Aid, like Kleenex. When the Tide turns so does my laundry.
I hate going to the beach. I don’t know if I hate it because the sand gets everywhere and outstays its welcome by months. Or if I hate the wind, which blows the sand into my teeth and eyes. Or if I hate the sun. Or if I hate it because others love it so much more than I do.
The tides of life are always turning. Just when you think you feel comfortable, swimming out to the safety of life’s beach, the tide sweeps you back in with a devilish undertow.
the waves come in and the waves roll the ebbing of time one letter removed a way to wash the ills of the day and begin anew just like the laundry is sudsy
Gone and back again, like the rushing tide at sunset on a never ending beach. Our love moves like that, doesn’t it? Peaceful, predictable.
The tide is in the tide is out. Who cares? I don’t. I’d be just as happy if the ocean took a break and sat still for one damn minute. Go on take a break ocean, everyone else does. What would happen if it stopped? I don’t wonder.
The tide is high so i´m holding on. This is what i heard then i began writing in Swedish
Tide. The water lapping against the barren shore, the waves licking at the pebbly sand, the smell of a perfect storm lingering somewhere out, over the vast lake before me. I cannot fathom it. I cannot bear it. I cannot. Not another storm.
change is something that happens all the time, our lives are constant with change, but we feel the need to fight it every step of the way. let go, breathe it in and accept that the tide will come back eventually.
i stepped forward into the surf. wondering how low the tide went. i started thinking about heading back to Mississippi.
The tide is high but I’m holding on. I hated playing that song on the piano. It was awful. And now all I can think of is some whiny girl voices singing it in my head. Why do the voices have to be so whiny? Why? And now I find myself wanting to listen to it.
the rising tide swallowed the memory of the day. like grains of sand our thoughts were pulled out to sea releasing an emotional wave.
I remember that day we went to the beach. My parents kept walking, out to the dock but I stayed at the shore and just stared. The waves were bigger than I had ever seen them. I just kept looking, until my parents called for me. True story.
My mom bought some Tide laundry detergent the other day. They were on sale, and she wanted to use them as part of a gift for the high school graduates in the neighborhood. For the change of tide (and times) they’re experiencing.
The tide washes in and out in Destin, slowly allowing the oil to creep onto the beaches. A little girl stands on the beach in her pink swimsuit and movie star sunglasses, distraught over the condition of the water.
It wasn’t that the moon seemed only half present, or that my car was not ankle deep in ocean. It was that I didn’t know where I was.
the movement of the ocean in relation to the shore, high or low, depending on time of day
i’ve been here before
the tide it swept me off the shore
and sent me overboard
i can decide whether to fight or just give in….
please don’t give me this word again
Did you ever get the feeling of life rushing toward you to slowly overwhelm like a rising tide? The fact is sometimes life builds it’s strifes to the point of drowning and there is nothing you can do…
The tide washed up around my feet as I stared into the distance and thought about what I had done. Only moments before I felt her warm embrace. She now lay, face down in the bedroom of our hotel room. The sheets are soaked with her bodily fluids and the only thing I can think of is I can’t wait to do it again.
I saw the tide come in. It was awesome. I realized that there was nothing else I could do at that point but cut my losses and offer up the best of my abilities. I missed the way it was. I missed the way everything seemed to fall into place. But that was over. Washed away in the tide.
The tide, it’s been so high this season, washing away all the sand. There is a thin sliver of land where we gaze out and your rushing sound, your rushing noise, your subtle rushing.
the ocean comes in and out and the melodic rhythm soothes as much as it numbs. the tide recedes and surges white foam crescents topped with specks of black. mica glistening sand, and briny odor overwhelmed the senses.
The tide began to slowly creep in on the crab that I was watching crawl along the beach, and I began to wonder whether or not his tenacity would outweigh the collective physical forces set upon him.
when the tide is high it is because of the pull of the moon. or so we are told. i’m frightened of what the tide can bring in. i remember one too many dead fish on the beach as a child. the smell was horrendous. i guess i have more time to write because i pressed the back button arrow. this isn’t about tides anymore. oh well. i have to give them my name? why?
tide, all, bounty, they were all sitting on the shelf in front of my face. When did buying detergent become so hard? Why doesn’t anyone give you a crash course on how to do laundry?
The ocean. Massive. Mysterious. Two divers uncover a secret that may hold our very origins in their hands. An hour long series that will explore the questions we ask ourselves every day.
washing up and over my feet. tiny bits of stone between my toes. wriggling through the bubbles. looking through my tears. wishing so desperately that you were here. so silent and sweet.
Did you ever get the feeling like your life was rushing toward you, slowly building weight like the oncoming tide? I have that feeling now and again, when the mundane truths of every day life build and build until they swell to the point of drowning you.
The tide falls and crashes down on the sands of time. Time moves, like the sand and the creatures in the sea, in a steady, yet unpredictable path. Embrace the unpredictable.
my tie brushed up against the rim of the bowl and i felt the tide of vomit rising up once again. how much more puke can there be in my gut?
The tide had come in. Jenny gasped as water splashed over her face, and quickly got to her feet, her wet hair slapping her neck. Disoriented, she looked around, shaking with cold as she quickly grabbed her soaking wet belongings, searching for a way out of her rocky, and now wet, prison.
tide on to a rock, onto something you don’t want to be part of. rip tide, very scary. almost drowned?
He scrubbed furiously. The stain just wouldn’t come out.
The room was dim, a single bulb illuminating his efforts. His struggles.
The sink was already stained red, splattered like a crime scene.
He slammed the top of the washing machine down and prayed that his wife didn’t check the laundry that night.
sitting on the edge of the ocean, listening to the tide. The tide bringing little rocks up to my feet, then leaving then behind like an abandoned baby. It’s like the world. The world that picks you up in their tides. The media, peers, all of them, just picking you up in your tide and eventually dropping you off to die.
Waves lapped in, foaming against the sand.
The few stood watching the flaming hulk drift further into the ocean. A friend set to rest like a viking.
The tides are high on the shores today and maybe it’s because the solar flares are acting up again. At least that is what I tell myself every timeI have a bad day. I twisted my ankle and now my carpet smells like frozen peas. I wish the sun would behave.