In life, we are passed down a torch from one generation to the next. We pass along our traditions, our histories, our tiny traits that make our people OUR people. But sometimes, that torch goes out and your link to the past is extinguished. My future lost its history the day my mother died.
All I can see is the dim flickering circle illuminated by my torch. But the others march beside me and all of them have torches and together all of our little circles create a large, dim light that we carry with us as we escape…
It’s odd how things can happen. One minute everything is going great. The forest is calm, in peace. Then, it suddenly goes up in flames. In an instant everything is destroyed and torched because of one stupid action. How will we fix this now? is the only thing left to say.
Torch. Torchwood? Hunger Games? These two thoughts simultaneously popped into my head when I read the word ‘torch’ at the top of this page and I don’t really know which to write about because I surely don’t have enough time to write about both of them. But I do believe that I’m about to use up all my time writing about how I don’t know which to write about. Well this is incredibly ironic. And proves just how indecisive I really am.
I carry a torch for you till this very day. I think of you from time to time and reminisce about the days we shared. No one can ever replace the first one, first kiss, first love.
I’ve already done torch, it came up a few months ago. It’s a confusing one because it means two different things on different sides of the atlantic.
Over here they’re good for power cuts and that’s about it.
One time I mistook a pepper grinder for a torch. That was not my finest moment, really.
He held the torch aloft and slowly everything came into focus. Around us gold glimmered on every available inch of floorspace. There was cups, plates, jewellery, furniture. A King’s ransom. Literally.
a road led into a forest. a forever twisting road that wound round and round into the darkness.
i took a step forward. shadow fell across my sandal, upon my shoes.
i walked in further.
and soon lit my torch. and continued upon this path. who knew where it would lead…
When I get ready in the morning, I don’t tend to look outside my window before I leave. The blinds block out the light, keeping my room nice and cool, just how I like it. Plus, I’m too lazy to just go to the window and peek out. So when I step outside, I begin to notice that the weather is a bit warmer than I expected. Everyone I see in passing is wearing a skirt or a pair of shorts, and I look like a dumb ass in my scarf and winter coat. It feels like a whopping 90 degrees, but that’s probably because I’m wearing my red American Eagle sweat shirt and and a nice pair of dark-wash skinny jeans underneath my winter apparel. “Well”, I think to myself, “I’m going to be late for class if I go back and change”, so I grow a pair and suffer the heat. The people I pass give me the “Doesn’t she know it’s a beautiful day and not the Ice Age?” look, so I shoot them a glare that says “I’m covering up because I’m way too sexy for mere mortal eyes”. Yeah, that’ll teach them. So I’m strutting my stuff and sweating like a hog, no big deal. I’m pretty sure the sun has become a torch, and it is slowly melting me into a puddle of pale American goo, but hey, it beats backing down and conforming to the heat like those other sissy boys and girls. Right..?
The torch threw a pale light in the expanse of the cave. It created a moving, flickering pattern of orange light in the far recesses, where ssensed than seen. The light on the dry area around the group made it more inviting than the cold white of the wet silica along the entrance.
I set a torch to my skin
Hoping to burn away the remains of your
Touch. I hoped the flames would purify
Me of your ghostly love
And for the first time
I would feel more than the whisper of
your words in my ear or
Your fingers in my hair.
I’m looking for a place to stay
And these people are giving me weird looks.
Looking at the girl with a flame-less torch.
Because I don’t know where you went,
The lite that forever took up the space,
Where the ashes are,
Is where you were lite.
i hold a torch in one hand as i slowly enter the cave. the bright orange light dances on the torch as it shows me the path. i am walking this path with a light guiding me, but i don’t know where i will end up
light in the darkness, shining its way to reveal all that lays hidden in its path. Fire burning bright as it is carried as a symbol throughout the world offering unity, clarity and health.
People don’t often look for a cry for help. Those closest to you just see the surface, what you want them to see. Maybe they don’t even care. Who does, really? I doubt no one. Perhaps they could all be better off without someone else to worry about. Better off with someone who can’t get their act together, who is spiraling down into disaster. Theres no other way out, it seems. Why bother trying to fake it anymore? Just burn it all down. They will just watch it till the last puff of smoke is released, then walk away as it nothing happened. They never needed me anyway.
I held it. It’s beaming smile showed me the way and I took in the darkness with newfound wonder. It’s funny how shadows turn simple things into treasures. In the light everything is taken for granted.
often people think of passing on the torch from one family memeber to another in a manner of the name living on. Torches are carried from one place to another, like the great olympic torch, passed and carried across the world always lit.
She looks at me and smiles. Her eyes glint, and her dimples show. I can see the weary look of stress fade from her face as she laughs and laughs. I, the jokester, laugh with her. My worries and anxieties float away on a breeze of laughter. Our smiles match: two half moons enveloped my small, pale faces. The joke is over, but our eyes still water, and our lips are still stretched. We know the world is dark. I, in fact, have known this for far too long, given my young age. But when I look at her, it’s like I’m on a stage, waving to the crowds below me as the hot lights rise on center stage. Her smile is like a spotlight, a faint, but solid glow on the empty stage, filling me with light. She is the torch I hold in a dark cave, my light house on an open sea, and a glimmering firefly I clutch in my hand. She is in every breath I sing, and in my quiet moments. I want to capture her in a bottle, and keep her light close to my eyes, so that I may never be left alone in the dark. I look at her and see a friend, a sister, and my hope.
The walls of the caverns flickered in the light. Shadows formed by the creases gave the sides definition, though the quavering of the flame from both fire and movement somewhat distorted her vision. Small streams of water glistened over the walls, echoed by the sound of water droplets beating a tattoo somewhere deeper in.
The torch at the Olympics. Does it stay lit for the entire olympic games? I don’t know. I can’t wait for the Olympics in London this summer.
I used to have torches in my backyard. Not anymore.
He carried the torch up the long road of fallen leaves and dropped it on the rainbow. There was a cat with cool boots, a killer sense of style, and he liked to fish. The torch guy met a women named Ibus.
The back yard sand pit.
A match to torch my memories.
A scarred heart.
As the fire rose, so did the devil in my eyes.
Dread overcame.
This is not what I wanted.
Ran for the water bucket.
Drenched my memories wet.
Tenderly picked each.
Hung them out to dry in the backyard.
This is what I wanted.
torch it burn it destroy it. thats what i need to do right now with some things. just erase them from exsistance and pretend like they never happened. I need to find a way to torch thoughts in my head stopping me from being who I should be.
The cave was dark and dank, and Carrie shivered involuntarily. It was creepy, but she was determined to enter and prove she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t, really. Just… creeped out.
She lit her torch and the flame heartened her. She took a deep breath and her first step into the blackness.
I followed him down the darkened hallway, him as my torch lighting the way. He whispered softly, “We are almost there.” I trusted his word and continued to walk with him, until we finally came to a halt at a enigmatic red door.
My fingers twitch as hot wax drips onto them. I wince in annoyance rather than pain. This doesn’t fit my job description. I’m not supposed to be here, doing this, whatever THIS is. The fire eventually gutters out. Smoke rises from the torch and curls towards the ceiling in thin, wispy movements. A thick, cloying scent of.. burnt? A thick cloying scent of burnt someth– no wait, it’s my–? A thick clowing scent of burnt hair encompasses me. Great.
the way of seeing what you should not.
don’t torch me. means that i do not want to be seen.
torchure is a way of looking through you. invading your privacy.
I held the touch closer to the wall in order to read the faint writing I’d found there. It didn’t appear to be in any language known to me, but then I was hardly an expert. I needed to get the linguists expert to come down and have a look. Just as I turned away to head towards the exit of the caves …
It is something that you light something with. It is a way of saying things in a meaning. When i hear the word torch I think of a ig party such as a bomb fire.
torch is what happens when you feel corrupted inside. You’re hurt. You don’t really deserve this torch. It’s pain. Torch something with flames. You use to congratulate someone from a victory. It’s fire.
Torch. The light at the end of the tunnel that is a moving target.
In life, we are passed down a torch from one generation to the next. We pass along our traditions, our histories, our tiny traits that make our people OUR people. But sometimes, that torch goes out and your link to the past is extinguished. My future lost its history the day my mother died.
All I can see is the dim flickering circle illuminated by my torch. But the others march beside me and all of them have torches and together all of our little circles create a large, dim light that we carry with us as we escape…
It’s odd how things can happen. One minute everything is going great. The forest is calm, in peace. Then, it suddenly goes up in flames. In an instant everything is destroyed and torched because of one stupid action. How will we fix this now? is the only thing left to say.
Burning. Wood. Caves. Shadows. Heat. Makes me think of those movies where the protagonist is trapped in a cave.
Torch. Torchwood? Hunger Games? These two thoughts simultaneously popped into my head when I read the word ‘torch’ at the top of this page and I don’t really know which to write about because I surely don’t have enough time to write about both of them. But I do believe that I’m about to use up all my time writing about how I don’t know which to write about. Well this is incredibly ironic. And proves just how indecisive I really am.
I carry a torch for you till this very day. I think of you from time to time and reminisce about the days we shared. No one can ever replace the first one, first kiss, first love.
it’s what you hold for someone that usually hasn’t beeen extinguished over a long period of unrequited time.
It’s the Olympics.
It’s a lame superhero.
I want to do it to some of my stuff sometimes when I get frustrated.
Wasn’t it a terrible movie> Wait that was Torque
I’ve already done torch, it came up a few months ago. It’s a confusing one because it means two different things on different sides of the atlantic.
Over here they’re good for power cuts and that’s about it.
One time I mistook a pepper grinder for a torch. That was not my finest moment, really.
He held the torch aloft and slowly everything came into focus. Around us gold glimmered on every available inch of floorspace. There was cups, plates, jewellery, furniture. A King’s ransom. Literally.
a road led into a forest. a forever twisting road that wound round and round into the darkness.
i took a step forward. shadow fell across my sandal, upon my shoes.
i walked in further.
and soon lit my torch. and continued upon this path. who knew where it would lead…
When I get ready in the morning, I don’t tend to look outside my window before I leave. The blinds block out the light, keeping my room nice and cool, just how I like it. Plus, I’m too lazy to just go to the window and peek out. So when I step outside, I begin to notice that the weather is a bit warmer than I expected. Everyone I see in passing is wearing a skirt or a pair of shorts, and I look like a dumb ass in my scarf and winter coat. It feels like a whopping 90 degrees, but that’s probably because I’m wearing my red American Eagle sweat shirt and and a nice pair of dark-wash skinny jeans underneath my winter apparel. “Well”, I think to myself, “I’m going to be late for class if I go back and change”, so I grow a pair and suffer the heat. The people I pass give me the “Doesn’t she know it’s a beautiful day and not the Ice Age?” look, so I shoot them a glare that says “I’m covering up because I’m way too sexy for mere mortal eyes”. Yeah, that’ll teach them. So I’m strutting my stuff and sweating like a hog, no big deal. I’m pretty sure the sun has become a torch, and it is slowly melting me into a puddle of pale American goo, but hey, it beats backing down and conforming to the heat like those other sissy boys and girls. Right..?
The torch threw a pale light in the expanse of the cave. It created a moving, flickering pattern of orange light in the far recesses, where ssensed than seen. The light on the dry area around the group made it more inviting than the cold white of the wet silica along the entrance.
I set a torch to my skin
Hoping to burn away the remains of your
Touch. I hoped the flames would purify
Me of your ghostly love
And for the first time
I would feel more than the whisper of
your words in my ear or
Your fingers in my hair.
Lite up my way,
Lite up my way.
I’m looking for a place to stay
And these people are giving me weird looks.
Looking at the girl with a flame-less torch.
Because I don’t know where you went,
The lite that forever took up the space,
Where the ashes are,
Is where you were lite.
i hold a torch in one hand as i slowly enter the cave. the bright orange light dances on the torch as it shows me the path. i am walking this path with a light guiding me, but i don’t know where i will end up
light in the darkness, shining its way to reveal all that lays hidden in its path. Fire burning bright as it is carried as a symbol throughout the world offering unity, clarity and health.
tomb raider and camping and hot hot flames stranded on the beach…scenes from lost. the olympics comes to mind and some jewish story.
People don’t often look for a cry for help. Those closest to you just see the surface, what you want them to see. Maybe they don’t even care. Who does, really? I doubt no one. Perhaps they could all be better off without someone else to worry about. Better off with someone who can’t get their act together, who is spiraling down into disaster. Theres no other way out, it seems. Why bother trying to fake it anymore? Just burn it all down. They will just watch it till the last puff of smoke is released, then walk away as it nothing happened. They never needed me anyway.
I held it. It’s beaming smile showed me the way and I took in the darkness with newfound wonder. It’s funny how shadows turn simple things into treasures. In the light everything is taken for granted.
often people think of passing on the torch from one family memeber to another in a manner of the name living on. Torches are carried from one place to another, like the great olympic torch, passed and carried across the world always lit.
She looks at me and smiles. Her eyes glint, and her dimples show. I can see the weary look of stress fade from her face as she laughs and laughs. I, the jokester, laugh with her. My worries and anxieties float away on a breeze of laughter. Our smiles match: two half moons enveloped my small, pale faces. The joke is over, but our eyes still water, and our lips are still stretched. We know the world is dark. I, in fact, have known this for far too long, given my young age. But when I look at her, it’s like I’m on a stage, waving to the crowds below me as the hot lights rise on center stage. Her smile is like a spotlight, a faint, but solid glow on the empty stage, filling me with light. She is the torch I hold in a dark cave, my light house on an open sea, and a glimmering firefly I clutch in my hand. She is in every breath I sing, and in my quiet moments. I want to capture her in a bottle, and keep her light close to my eyes, so that I may never be left alone in the dark. I look at her and see a friend, a sister, and my hope.
torch is like a passionate love…the flame is great but you have to hold it for a while… with your hands.
The walls of the caverns flickered in the light. Shadows formed by the creases gave the sides definition, though the quavering of the flame from both fire and movement somewhat distorted her vision. Small streams of water glistened over the walls, echoed by the sound of water droplets beating a tattoo somewhere deeper in.
fortitude in the night.
like a hawk whispering
declaring
screaming
that its okay
even without both wings
The torch at the Olympics. Does it stay lit for the entire olympic games? I don’t know. I can’t wait for the Olympics in London this summer.
I used to have torches in my backyard. Not anymore.
He carried the torch up the long road of fallen leaves and dropped it on the rainbow. There was a cat with cool boots, a killer sense of style, and he liked to fish. The torch guy met a women named Ibus.
Torch, scorch, torch, scorch, torch, scorch, torch, scorch, torch, scorch, torch, scorch, torch, scorch, torch, scorch, torch, scorch, torch, scorch, torch, scorch –
The back yard sand pit.
A match to torch my memories.
A scarred heart.
As the fire rose, so did the devil in my eyes.
Dread overcame.
This is not what I wanted.
Ran for the water bucket.
Drenched my memories wet.
Tenderly picked each.
Hung them out to dry in the backyard.
This is what I wanted.
torch it burn it destroy it. thats what i need to do right now with some things. just erase them from exsistance and pretend like they never happened. I need to find a way to torch thoughts in my head stopping me from being who I should be.
light a torch and carry it all the way to the olympics. Don’t let your torch go out the dark will consume you the arsonist will torch the house .
The cave was dark and dank, and Carrie shivered involuntarily. It was creepy, but she was determined to enter and prove she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t, really. Just… creeped out.
She lit her torch and the flame heartened her. She took a deep breath and her first step into the blackness.
I followed him down the darkened hallway, him as my torch lighting the way. He whispered softly, “We are almost there.” I trusted his word and continued to walk with him, until we finally came to a halt at a enigmatic red door.
My fingers twitch as hot wax drips onto them. I wince in annoyance rather than pain. This doesn’t fit my job description. I’m not supposed to be here, doing this, whatever THIS is. The fire eventually gutters out. Smoke rises from the torch and curls towards the ceiling in thin, wispy movements. A thick, cloying scent of.. burnt? A thick cloying scent of burnt someth– no wait, it’s my–? A thick clowing scent of burnt hair encompasses me. Great.
the way of seeing what you should not.
don’t torch me. means that i do not want to be seen.
torchure is a way of looking through you. invading your privacy.
I held the touch closer to the wall in order to read the faint writing I’d found there. It didn’t appear to be in any language known to me, but then I was hardly an expert. I needed to get the linguists expert to come down and have a look. Just as I turned away to head towards the exit of the caves …
Olympics. Fire. Light. Burn. Bright. Destroy. Pyre. Bonfire. Fireworks.
yead%
moreau =
fafoin&bone
It is something that you light something with. It is a way of saying things in a meaning. When i hear the word torch I think of a ig party such as a bomb fire.
torch is what happens when you feel corrupted inside. You’re hurt. You don’t really deserve this torch. It’s pain. Torch something with flames. You use to congratulate someone from a victory. It’s fire.