I trot up and down my stairs when I’m young.
As I grow older, and arthritis sets in, I don’t trot so much.
My friend has horses that don’t trot! They’re “gaited”, he says. It means they don’t trot, so he doesn’t bounce, or have to work so hard when he rides them.
Like my friend’s horses, I’m “gaited”, but it doesn’t count with humans, and it doesn’t hold nearly as much prestege!
I rode horses my entire life until I was 17, and I don’t really know why I stopped. It was everything that ever made me happy in life. trotting around an arena on my chestnut horse… my horse… I miss that feeling. that feeling a girl gets when the world fades away and it’s just me.
“Fuck. How deep is it in there?” asked Harold Godwinson, indicating the arrow in his eye.
The surgeon looked at it a little harder. “Pretty deep, milord. Hang on…lemme just try this…”
“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK” said Harold Godwinson.
Long story short, William the Conqueror won the Battle of Hastings in 1066 by sheer luck and because Harold Godwinson was stupid and dumb.
I waa riding my horse, trotting along the path. It was a nice day, bright. Autumn had been my favourite time of year, the leaves on the trees change colours, the air turns crisp. It’s all the kinds of things that make you think about your childhood. There’s really nothing like it.
umm… yeah well this website is STRANGE!!!! i dont even know wot to write… oooh this is scary only 60 seconds less than that now i suppose!!!!!!!!!!!! aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhg!!! IM FREAKING OUT
MY NAMES MATILDA I LIVE IN TASMANIA AND GO TO ST BRENDAN SHAW COLLEGE!
not again. this is not what i was expecting. to be honest i am quite disappointed. i really let my mind go ` ya know?? i tried to feel it out, really dig for something worth reading
i trot along like a horse. loving every moment of the kind of freedom that only comes from perpetual movement. horses are the lucky ones. all they do is move forward.
the first thing i thought of was the cartoon Fox Trot that I used to read religiously as a kid. I used to actually read the newspaper comics each day after school, or for breakfast. It really mattered to me, what was going on in the lives of these comics. Not the stupid ones but the semi-serious ones like Luann and For Better or For Worse. Fox Trot was pretty funny too because the nerdy kid was similar to me in posture, mannerisms and dorky passions.
i remember a time that i was convinced my dead grandfather had put a joke in my head when i went to a public toilet that had skid marks on the bowl and a reference to the trots came to mind and made me laugh. i can’t remember what it was now, but i had had some supernatural experiences around that time and i felt comforted, in a weird “i’m laughing at myself in a toilet” way.
trot is to walk with a skip in one’s step. It also makes me think of Leon Trotsky, the Russian (?) guy who is represented by a pig from the book Animal Farm. Therefore I think of pigs. And trotting pigs at that. Or trotting with a loved one, happily in a grassy field.
the guy trot… trotted… thats right right he did – thought he was some kind of pony – what a jerk . time time there is still time to tell you about the mysterious place where men trot like horses in the night
He trotted along the golden path. The lights ahead blinding him. All he needed to do was continue on and reach his goal. He had to reach the city before night fall and the creatures came out. He would never make it then. The rain made the sun shine brighter and the ground softer slowing his movement. Worrying about his pace he found a stranded little girl.
“what are you doing out here do far away from the city”
The girl looked up at him as if her were her savior.
the horse trotted so quickly it couldnt stop. it collided with a cacophony against a tree and fell to the ground. The tree swayed elegantly in the wind. Leaves danced around joyously
Waking up in the morning is always difficult specially after a late night surfing the web and trying out silly computer exercises. I wish I had the will to go to bed early and wake up in the morning to go trotting.
I troted along the website pages wishing for everything to be the same again. Yet I could not stand the sight of you. Your big blue, shining eyes stared back at me, almost as if you were attempting to give me the death sentence. You are nothing to me anymore. I want you to leave and trot out of my life forever.
trot is the plot the plot is not about anything you;ve ever known you can go but you dont know it cuz youve never been but i will again and i go back after that ill be a blast wit th the rap and all that hell yeah take that shit
Hot to trot.
Slicker than grease.
Something you’ll be sucking like a leach.
It’s a lyric from a Beastie Boys song.
It’s what came to mind.
I don’t know what else to say.
Trotting along I found the ride very uncomfortable. I never liked riding horses, I don’t like to be that far of the ground. And this particular beast did not like me either.
Trot like a pony out of the home and into the heart. Sit there and think about what you’ve done. Are you proud of yourself? Can you continue trotting through life with that kind of guilt on your back? Hmmm?
trot. we moved so slowly. and i gave you so, so many chances. i gave up everything. and sacrificed everything. and you got tired. you stopped trying. you moved so slowly.
The horse wasn’t in a rush, it just trotted gallantly across the fields. As if there wasn’t anything wrong in the world. He was completely ignorant to the quarrels of humankind and honestly, he was perfectly bliss that way. I guess they were right when they said ignorance is bliss.
He trotted, going on and on. He was too tired to go any faster, having spent all his energy on activities earlier in the day. He could not go any faster; in a way, he was broken. He could not go any faster…
Baby let’s do the foxtrot.
Increase that Spanish tempo,
until I’m down on the floor.
I never knew how to dance,
I can’t find the rhythm in my feet.
On my back, though, my hips know what to do.
trotting like horses in the rain…raindrops falling becoming snowflakes as they fall. snow on the ground melts into the stream which flows eternally towards the mass that is the ocean
The stars outside seem to laugh at me as I sit here in the rain. I look up at them and smile though, fo I’d rather spend one night on the porch with you than trot around the bases with another woman.
Trot willy dittly dot
this is not art nor poetry, the description of a horse it once was now i use it for sounds and rhymes, some call it poetic license but not I.
I’ll call it noise
Trotting reminds me of horses. The last time I saw a horse was proabbly a couple of years ago in Shanandoah with my family. I’ve never ridden one. I don’t think I really want to. I talked about horses today at work with my manager
Like a horse, or something when you when you are upset. I don’t know… trotting trotting. It’s kind of like when you sigh. I’m not getting anywhere. Trotwood, David Copperfield. I trot when I’m excited… I think. And now I’m all lost and confused. I don’t
Do you remember PE class together? I never told you, but I hated PE. The only thing that made it bearable was being able to trot alongside you around the track.
across a grassy noll, four hoofs beat in a repetitive pattern that carry me away, far away from this place, from this home from this life. across dirt trails and gravel roads we keep going. Where? we don’t know where ever the sunset takes us I suppose.
I trot up and down my stairs when I’m young.
As I grow older, and arthritis sets in, I don’t trot so much.
My friend has horses that don’t trot! They’re “gaited”, he says. It means they don’t trot, so he doesn’t bounce, or have to work so hard when he rides them.
Like my friend’s horses, I’m “gaited”, but it doesn’t count with humans, and it doesn’t hold nearly as much prestege!
I rode horses my entire life until I was 17, and I don’t really know why I stopped. It was everything that ever made me happy in life. trotting around an arena on my chestnut horse… my horse… I miss that feeling. that feeling a girl gets when the world fades away and it’s just me.
i dont know the meaning of trot but i can remember troy from its word becuse i loved the movie because it was great and i loved it and trot
“Fuck. How deep is it in there?” asked Harold Godwinson, indicating the arrow in his eye.
The surgeon looked at it a little harder. “Pretty deep, milord. Hang on…lemme just try this…”
“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK” said Harold Godwinson.
Long story short, William the Conqueror won the Battle of Hastings in 1066 by sheer luck and because Harold Godwinson was stupid and dumb.
I waa riding my horse, trotting along the path. It was a nice day, bright. Autumn had been my favourite time of year, the leaves on the trees change colours, the air turns crisp. It’s all the kinds of things that make you think about your childhood. There’s really nothing like it.
umm… yeah well this website is STRANGE!!!! i dont even know wot to write… oooh this is scary only 60 seconds less than that now i suppose!!!!!!!!!!!! aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhg!!! IM FREAKING OUT
MY NAMES MATILDA I LIVE IN TASMANIA AND GO TO ST BRENDAN SHAW COLLEGE!
not again. this is not what i was expecting. to be honest i am quite disappointed. i really let my mind go ` ya know?? i tried to feel it out, really dig for something worth reading
my horse loves to trot, it makes him feel like a professional Arabian endurance champion.
in reality, he’s a paint horse with no patches, and he can’t do an endurance race for shit.
i trot along like a horse. loving every moment of the kind of freedom that only comes from perpetual movement. horses are the lucky ones. all they do is move forward.
the first thing i thought of was the cartoon Fox Trot that I used to read religiously as a kid. I used to actually read the newspaper comics each day after school, or for breakfast. It really mattered to me, what was going on in the lives of these comics. Not the stupid ones but the semi-serious ones like Luann and For Better or For Worse. Fox Trot was pretty funny too because the nerdy kid was similar to me in posture, mannerisms and dorky passions.
i remember a time that i was convinced my dead grandfather had put a joke in my head when i went to a public toilet that had skid marks on the bowl and a reference to the trots came to mind and made me laugh. i can’t remember what it was now, but i had had some supernatural experiences around that time and i felt comforted, in a weird “i’m laughing at myself in a toilet” way.
trot is to walk with a skip in one’s step. It also makes me think of Leon Trotsky, the Russian (?) guy who is represented by a pig from the book Animal Farm. Therefore I think of pigs. And trotting pigs at that. Or trotting with a loved one, happily in a grassy field.
the guy trot… trotted… thats right right he did – thought he was some kind of pony – what a jerk . time time there is still time to tell you about the mysterious place where men trot like horses in the night
He trotted along the golden path. The lights ahead blinding him. All he needed to do was continue on and reach his goal. He had to reach the city before night fall and the creatures came out. He would never make it then. The rain made the sun shine brighter and the ground softer slowing his movement. Worrying about his pace he found a stranded little girl.
“what are you doing out here do far away from the city”
The girl looked up at him as if her were her savior.
happily, by means of four or less legs. why hasn’t gravity slowed you down? Your wonder feeds your mind and pops your feet from one patch to the next
the horse trotted so quickly it couldnt stop. it collided with a cacophony against a tree and fell to the ground. The tree swayed elegantly in the wind. Leaves danced around joyously
Waking up in the morning is always difficult specially after a late night surfing the web and trying out silly computer exercises. I wish I had the will to go to bed early and wake up in the morning to go trotting.
I troted along the website pages wishing for everything to be the same again. Yet I could not stand the sight of you. Your big blue, shining eyes stared back at me, almost as if you were attempting to give me the death sentence. You are nothing to me anymore. I want you to leave and trot out of my life forever.
trot is the plot the plot is not about anything you;ve ever known you can go but you dont know it cuz youve never been but i will again and i go back after that ill be a blast wit th the rap and all that hell yeah take that shit
Hot to trot.
Slicker than grease.
Something you’ll be sucking like a leach.
It’s a lyric from a Beastie Boys song.
It’s what came to mind.
I don’t know what else to say.
Trotting along I found the ride very uncomfortable. I never liked riding horses, I don’t like to be that far of the ground. And this particular beast did not like me either.
i love to trot on the quarter horse
it’s the best feeling in the world to be on a horse trotting around
Trot like a pony out of the home and into the heart. Sit there and think about what you’ve done. Are you proud of yourself? Can you continue trotting through life with that kind of guilt on your back? Hmmm?
trot. we moved so slowly. and i gave you so, so many chances. i gave up everything. and sacrificed everything. and you got tired. you stopped trying. you moved so slowly.
i saw a horse trot yesterday and it was beautiful. the stride and bounce in its step was mind blowing. it was art.
The horse wasn’t in a rush, it just trotted gallantly across the fields. As if there wasn’t anything wrong in the world. He was completely ignorant to the quarrels of humankind and honestly, he was perfectly bliss that way. I guess they were right when they said ignorance is bliss.
He trotted, going on and on. He was too tired to go any faster, having spent all his energy on activities earlier in the day. He could not go any faster; in a way, he was broken. He could not go any faster…
trot down to town and get me some green eggs and ham. because i like the ham, i do, i do. it’s very yummy in my tummy. but, after i’ll be so tired.
Baby let’s do the foxtrot.
Increase that Spanish tempo,
until I’m down on the floor.
I never knew how to dance,
I can’t find the rhythm in my feet.
On my back, though, my hips know what to do.
trotting like horses in the rain…raindrops falling becoming snowflakes as they fall. snow on the ground melts into the stream which flows eternally towards the mass that is the ocean
The stars outside seem to laugh at me as I sit here in the rain. I look up at them and smile though, fo I’d rather spend one night on the porch with you than trot around the bases with another woman.
Trot willy dittly dot
this is not art nor poetry, the description of a horse it once was now i use it for sounds and rhymes, some call it poetic license but not I.
I’ll call it noise
trotting away from there
to someplace new
but I have only found the same things
It seems I’ve created my surroundings
Trotting reminds me of horses. The last time I saw a horse was proabbly a couple of years ago in Shanandoah with my family. I’ve never ridden one. I don’t think I really want to. I talked about horses today at work with my manager
Like a horse, or something when you when you are upset. I don’t know… trotting trotting. It’s kind of like when you sigh. I’m not getting anywhere. Trotwood, David Copperfield. I trot when I’m excited… I think. And now I’m all lost and confused. I don’t
trot to pot
side to side
race pass dawn
stop to reload
spotted a fox
Horses. On a field, rainy day.
I can hear their hoofs on a racetrack, the cold pavement and dark gravel beneath their feet.
The rider on top pulling on their reins.
The harsh wind swirling above. Slight whispers from afar.
Trot.
Do you remember PE class together? I never told you, but I hated PE. The only thing that made it bearable was being able to trot alongside you around the track.
across a grassy noll, four hoofs beat in a repetitive pattern that carry me away, far away from this place, from this home from this life. across dirt trails and gravel roads we keep going. Where? we don’t know where ever the sunset takes us I suppose.
cookin that trot