you put flowers in it. you can break it over people’s head. you can give it as a gift, or re-gift it if it’s ugly as all sin. I don’t own one, because i don’t buy flowers.
The vase fell off the stand and broke on the floor. We were all surprised to see it fall, because gravity hadn’t existed in three years. Something was wrong.
The vase teetered, rocked over, and shattered on the hardwood floor. “No!” Isabella cried as she raced forward. She knelt among the broken pieces, and her tears flowed onto the shards. “This was my mother’s. It’s the only thing she carried out of Poland, and now it’s gone.” Michael knelt in front his mother and kissed her cheek. “It’s ok, mommy. It’s still here. It’s just different now.”
The buds bloom on the desk and stir brightly in the water towards the sun, happily wincing in the basking force and shine to a becoming full shone livelihood itself. Later, how they’ll wilt and curl into themselves with teary petals fluttered all about which then did hit and bounce up off the hundred pages of empty on a desk of wordlessness.
It was a golden vase that twinkled beneath the yellow light of the grand dining hall. It had been there for as long as she could remember. And now they were moving. The vase had been her mother’s. She didn’t know if it was dear to her–her mother had never talked about it; it had just been there. She didn’t know whether to bring it in the move or to just leave it in a corner. She had no use for it. All it did was take up space. And she knew that it held almost no value at all. It’s color was gold, but beneath the cracking paint, there was only a ceramic white.
“Oh! Please tell me that wasn’t real” cried the new intern as she stared at the Ming vase now laying in pieces on the floor. “Well…actually, yes it was” replied her new boss. Both stood staring at the pieces, neither sure what to do next. “How are your sweeping skills?” asked her boss.
The vase had sat on the mantal for years. It was plain and almost ugly. Why was it there? Why would she keep such a thing. When she gave it to me, she told me a story to go with it. Now it sits on my mantal.
I already wrote about a vase but somehow it was credited to someone else. I wrote about how I stabbed my mother and collected her blood in her favorite vase, how I should have added flowers, and how red and sticky it looked within the crystal. Damn it all.
I stabbed my mother and collected her blood in her favorite vase. I don’t know why I did it, the blood just looked so sticky and red contained in the crystal. I should have plopped some flowers in, but I had none at hand.
flowers are really pretty. I have a vase with pink flowers and blue. my vase is made of crystle and I love it so much. I have a peanut. It sits next to the vase. With the flowers. Yay for me. I hate this why? Why am i doing this?
um what? Can i ask a question? my time just started again… So this is cheating…. Yay for flowers………. pie. pie. pie. pie. pie. . . . :/ I hate you :/
Right at the bottom sat a button, holes clogged with dust, the corpse of a white spider resting beside it. I reached inside, my whole arm disappearing into the vase as if I was about to pull out a rabbit by its ears. It was cool in there – the air untouched by the summer outside the china – the depths endless and illusionary, and I wanted to dive in, wrap myself around the innocuous little fastener and breathe in the scent of where it used to button across his chest.
vase – that’s VARZ not the way the Americans say it – which is Vaise – ridiculous. Anyway – yeah – you put flowers in it and it’s made of glass … probably – right?
The ornate glass vase rested in the centre of the table. Joanna could smell the roses from the door, the blossoms sending their sweet smell throughout the room.
whats there to write? a vase.. why is it calleda vase? who invented it?
what’s the meaning of calling the object ‘vase’ ?
what if the guy held up a donut and called it a vase?
My vase is full of flowers. It has colorful flowers and is artistically placed in the middle of my center table. I often look at it and wonder that how beautifully it holds things so deliacte and colorful.
The ugly vase was sitting on the windowsil veeling sad that it was not a coffeepot. sittit was still jelouse of the car cause it was not able to drive away anytime it wanted to go to the ocean. cafe considerationwas taken as he fetched the cup and broke the window and ran away. to the zoo.
“Jerk!” i screamed, as i threw the vase at luke’s grinning face,
smashing into tiny pieces bits of clay and blood everywhere.
maybe i was crazy? or maybe heartless? nah, he deserved it..
i kicked him in the nuts, him still ripping my shirt off, then in stormed
philip, smashing a photo frame over his head, which happened to be the one
luke took of us, with the cursed vase..
I really love flowers. And I always find it amusing that people are always arguing about the pronunciation of this word. Gotta love the different ways there are to say the same damn word. I want to buy some flowers. I think I should do it today.
The vase was a glossy blue, shining with paint and a long time in the ceramics oven. It was prettier than the small, dying, gnarled plant rooted in its depths.
i took the last flower out of the vase, the vase that YOU gave me.
all the flowers were gone, along with my happiness..
it was just an empty vase, as empty as my heart
of course I wasn’t ready for this
the pink vase contained pink flowers that cherished kisses of sunlight and the still water that hugged their corpses alive. it was placed on a mantlepiece next to a mini lamp that continued to shine, even in its loneliness.
i looked at the vase, while Aunty May made a cup of tea.
the vase was full of roses, if only i could distract her..
the delicate carvings of the Ancients tempted Amy, but how could she take the vase without
Aunty May noticing? using her willpower, Amy made the shelf of China teacups crash down. Aunty may was busy tidying up so Amy lunged for the vase, the seconds ticking by, time closing the gap between the vase and amy…
It was a cobalt blue, the deepest you’d ever seen. You wouldn’t know it, but this vase was the first gift of a lifetime of gifts to follow. It strongly reminds you of his eyes, rich flecks of colour floating in a sun-bathed sea.
the vase had flowers in it. She looked sadly at them, they were dying and she was unable to do anything about it, just like she was unable to save herself. She looked away and then glanced back at it. “Why me? Why cancer?” She whispered.
Vases, perfect glass of pretty ceramic, beauty that is disguised by flowers.
you put flowers in it. you can break it over people’s head. you can give it as a gift, or re-gift it if it’s ugly as all sin. I don’t own one, because i don’t buy flowers.
a place where flowers are kept. can be of different sizes designs. a commonly used thing to hit someone when angry!
The vase shattered against the wall with such force it shook the walls of the tiny apartment they shared.
The vase fell off the stand and broke on the floor. We were all surprised to see it fall, because gravity hadn’t existed in three years. Something was wrong.
my oncle ‘s vase was there and all i wanted from the bottom of my heart is to destroy it i don’t know why it was there and i was steering at it .
The vase teetered, rocked over, and shattered on the hardwood floor. “No!” Isabella cried as she raced forward. She knelt among the broken pieces, and her tears flowed onto the shards. “This was my mother’s. It’s the only thing she carried out of Poland, and now it’s gone.” Michael knelt in front his mother and kissed her cheek. “It’s ok, mommy. It’s still here. It’s just different now.”
This word is something that one puts flowers in so they will be upright. You can also put water in it as well to help your plant grow.
My mother use to have lots of vases. I remember one vase that sat on our dining table that was beautiful purple and black vase. One day during the
There is a blue and yellow vase in my house that holds red roses. The roses smell like fresh cut flower
The vase falls to the ground as I did my best to catch it. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch it in time.
It holds my precious flower i buy in the store, it makes them last for over a week. It decorates the rooms in my house
The buds bloom on the desk and stir brightly in the water towards the sun, happily wincing in the basking force and shine to a becoming full shone livelihood itself. Later, how they’ll wilt and curl into themselves with teary petals fluttered all about which then did hit and bounce up off the hundred pages of empty on a desk of wordlessness.
It was a golden vase that twinkled beneath the yellow light of the grand dining hall. It had been there for as long as she could remember. And now they were moving. The vase had been her mother’s. She didn’t know if it was dear to her–her mother had never talked about it; it had just been there. She didn’t know whether to bring it in the move or to just leave it in a corner. She had no use for it. All it did was take up space. And she knew that it held almost no value at all. It’s color was gold, but beneath the cracking paint, there was only a ceramic white.
“Oh! Please tell me that wasn’t real” cried the new intern as she stared at the Ming vase now laying in pieces on the floor. “Well…actually, yes it was” replied her new boss. Both stood staring at the pieces, neither sure what to do next. “How are your sweeping skills?” asked her boss.
The vase had sat on the mantal for years. It was plain and almost ugly. Why was it there? Why would she keep such a thing. When she gave it to me, she told me a story to go with it. Now it sits on my mantal.
I already wrote about a vase but somehow it was credited to someone else. I wrote about how I stabbed my mother and collected her blood in her favorite vase, how I should have added flowers, and how red and sticky it looked within the crystal. Damn it all.
I stabbed my mother and collected her blood in her favorite vase. I don’t know why I did it, the blood just looked so sticky and red contained in the crystal. I should have plopped some flowers in, but I had none at hand.
flowers are really pretty. I have a vase with pink flowers and blue. my vase is made of crystle and I love it so much. I have a peanut. It sits next to the vase. With the flowers. Yay for me. I hate this why? Why am i doing this?
um what? Can i ask a question? my time just started again… So this is cheating…. Yay for flowers………. pie. pie. pie. pie. pie. . . . :/ I hate you :/
Right at the bottom sat a button, holes clogged with dust, the corpse of a white spider resting beside it. I reached inside, my whole arm disappearing into the vase as if I was about to pull out a rabbit by its ears. It was cool in there – the air untouched by the summer outside the china – the depths endless and illusionary, and I wanted to dive in, wrap myself around the innocuous little fastener and breathe in the scent of where it used to button across his chest.
vase – that’s VARZ not the way the Americans say it – which is Vaise – ridiculous. Anyway – yeah – you put flowers in it and it’s made of glass … probably – right?
The ornate glass vase rested in the centre of the table. Joanna could smell the roses from the door, the blossoms sending their sweet smell throughout the room.
whats there to write? a vase.. why is it calleda vase? who invented it?
what’s the meaning of calling the object ‘vase’ ?
what if the guy held up a donut and called it a vase?
My vase is full of flowers. It has colorful flowers and is artistically placed in the middle of my center table. I often look at it and wonder that how beautifully it holds things so deliacte and colorful.
nice smelling flowers, gifts, birthdays, love.
The ugly vase was sitting on the windowsil veeling sad that it was not a coffeepot. sittit was still jelouse of the car cause it was not able to drive away anytime it wanted to go to the ocean. cafe considerationwas taken as he fetched the cup and broke the window and ran away. to the zoo.
“Jerk!” i screamed, as i threw the vase at luke’s grinning face,
smashing into tiny pieces bits of clay and blood everywhere.
maybe i was crazy? or maybe heartless? nah, he deserved it..
i kicked him in the nuts, him still ripping my shirt off, then in stormed
philip, smashing a photo frame over his head, which happened to be the one
luke took of us, with the cursed vase..
I really love flowers. And I always find it amusing that people are always arguing about the pronunciation of this word. Gotta love the different ways there are to say the same damn word. I want to buy some flowers. I think I should do it today.
vaselin
The vase was filled with beautiful red roses that cascaded over the sides. The scent of them filled the air
flover
colour
forest
happines
water
sand
smooth
table
cover
design
cool
fine
perfect
nice
The vase was a glossy blue, shining with paint and a long time in the ceramics oven. It was prettier than the small, dying, gnarled plant rooted in its depths.
i knew this will hold too many secrets. the glass vase looked at me strangely.
i took the last flower out of the vase, the vase that YOU gave me.
all the flowers were gone, along with my happiness..
it was just an empty vase, as empty as my heart
of course I wasn’t ready for this
the pink vase contained pink flowers that cherished kisses of sunlight and the still water that hugged their corpses alive. it was placed on a mantlepiece next to a mini lamp that continued to shine, even in its loneliness.
i looked at the vase, while Aunty May made a cup of tea.
the vase was full of roses, if only i could distract her..
the delicate carvings of the Ancients tempted Amy, but how could she take the vase without
Aunty May noticing? using her willpower, Amy made the shelf of China teacups crash down. Aunty may was busy tidying up so Amy lunged for the vase, the seconds ticking by, time closing the gap between the vase and amy…
It was a cobalt blue, the deepest you’d ever seen. You wouldn’t know it, but this vase was the first gift of a lifetime of gifts to follow. It strongly reminds you of his eyes, rich flecks of colour floating in a sun-bathed sea.
the vase had flowers in it. She looked sadly at them, they were dying and she was unable to do anything about it, just like she was unable to save herself. She looked away and then glanced back at it. “Why me? Why cancer?” She whispered.
flowers in water red dead flowers hanging on the wall. forgotten about. crisp hot air plains florida happeiness life cj miss you love you
a hat with flowersglass plastic stuff junk hi what nooo giiglle hahahahaha blaahhhhhhhhh pretty stuff inside the circle