The vase had nothing but welted roses. The roses were always welted because no one bothered to change the water. It smelled like soggy socks. They looked a little like old soggy socks too.
A red mark caught his attention. He raised his arm to study the injury. Was it from his fall? No, he’d slid on his other side. This was from her, he remembered, from her frustrated attempts to move his arm during their last sparring match.
When my head bounced off the windshield I remembered nothing for a few moments, then I could not see from one eye, panicked, I felt around my chest and face hoping to find my displaced eyeball, to discover it was only a socket covered with blood and a gash cross the forehead, draining down. The iron taste of blood on my lips.
It was a welt on her leg, the one mar in her otherwise flawless body. It didn’t show too often because she would always wear pants to cover it up, but she knew they were there, and that was enough for her to remember that she wasn’t perfect.
There was a welt on her right shoulder, from the strap of his bag. It must have weighed at least ten kilos,but she would carry it without complaint.A small burden to bear for being this close to him.
It hurt. The worst sensation trembled through my entire being. So strange. It went on for so long that I thought I had forgotten what it felt to be normal. To not hurt. To not be hurt. The welt you left on my soul is worse than any you ever left on my body.
It was a big one, bigger than anyone before it. She looked at the raised brown skin and wondered if her husband woudl be upset. He was the first born after all, tal,l bony, dark eyes, bushy eybrows. Just like his father.
My strike is growing into a welt, you’ll be handed what you’ve dealt. Thick and poisonous on your skin, I simply can’t wait to begin. I’ll choke you out like a weed, on your very life I’ll feed. Sit you out until you’re cold, watch this new scene unfold. You’re no match for my mind, you couldn’t withstand the people of my kind. We’re not like you, yes it’s true. We’re something totally completely new. Aliens to the human race, though we do not live in outer space. We live right here near your home, quietly across the earth we roam. Leaving human flesh alone, until you dare to cross our zone. Then we’ll have you killed on the spot, what a poor unfortunate lot.
A large blue bruise welted up on his skin
The reminder of last night’s events start playing again
Slick with sweat from head to toe
Both bodies caught in passion’s throe
Lights turned off so you can’t see
Cries of wondrous ecstasy
Music blaring
Clothes are tearing
His head is spinning
No longer grinning
He’s filled with lust and greed
He takes what he wants
She’s done with this deed
A violent hit
He’s s
As I turned my arm around, I already saw a welt forming form the simple burn I’d earned in combat. I watched as it healed into a small battle scar, of which I already had plenty. I was always proud of them, no matter the circumstance under which they were earned.
at times I like to think I’m hurt
but that isn’t really true
I search my arms for scars I’m sure I made
and realize there is nothing there
I know that I should not be sad
but I’ll wretch and never vomit
I’ll wince without a welt
my smile misses something
in exactly the cliche way I always knew it would
and at times I like to think I’m hurt
Im not sure what welt means. uhm im guessing it has something to do with maybe a burn like when it swells us. avtually i think that is exactly what it means upon further investigation. welt= burn that is swollen. i sure hope i dont welt anyanytaa
She just couldn’t get over the number of welts on Sadie’s face. The mosquitoes on the island were ravenous and they were all being bitten. But Sadie was the sweetest of them all.
Just when I figured I needed one more simple welt for my shattered heart, he came right back and un sewed every single piece I have spent forever trying to fix. He doesn’t even try, and I never ever could have figured this man would be the reason I would never be the same again. he changed me in way I never could have imagined. And here I am, trying more and more to forget about him, his silhouette haunts my every move.
She knew it was a spider bite by the size of the welt left behind. She winced as she prodded the tender area. She pulled out a snake bite kits and a knife. Disinfected the area, grit her teeth, and set about tending to the bite. This was not going to be pretty.
Ever seen a welt on felt? You won’t. Welts appear on human skin. Welts result from someon belting your skin with a belt. Hell, did I write that? Where else would a welt well-up from? Wherever they come from, welts are nasty things. Try to avoid getting a welt if you can.
Hail pelted her jacket as she waited for the light to wander it’s way around the cycle. People in cars next to her had their wipers wiping as fast as possible. How fast would a wiper wipe if a wiper could wipe?
The mess between us only grows with time. We’re bruising, bleeding messes, waiting to heal. But why wait? Why wait at all? We can still move, run, breathe. Let’s get more mashed up than ever before. Let’s keep moving and keep going. Let’s carry on, even if we’re too tired. I’m not going to wait for the ending. I’m going to run.
Sarah would not tell us how Jimmy received the large, pink welt on his right forearm, nor would she imply that it had been done on purpose. Her abusive husband had been in jail for several years, and she would never use a belt or anything harmful on her son. Her new boyfriend, however, looked warier than usual.
The large red mark on her face only served to disgust those around her. Everywhere she went, the red welt served as a distinguishing feature, marking her as an outcast. Yet, she didnt mind. She liked to think of that welt as a sort of Border Patrol, letting in only those who could see past the physical features.
I reached behind me and prodded the welt on my back. Ouch. That’s what I get for coming home late and being shoved into the door handle, I guess. I mean, was it even really my fault? Why’d he have to get to mean, so defensive? It was just a night with my girls!
A welt resided on his arm. Miss. Kelburg could see it as plain as day underneath his damp shirt. How difficult.
Miss. Kelburg hoped Steven’s home life wasn’t as bad as her’s had been. Neither her father nor her mother ever raised a hand against her; it was always her brother with Mr. and Mrs. Kelburg. She had witnessed first-hand what people were capable of doing to children and since she left Iowa in the dust as soon as she turned sixteen with her brother (who was eighteen), she had been adamant about stopping child abuse and neglect.
And now, nine years after becoming a teacher for West Diamond Junior High School, she thought she had one. One of them. If her eyes were telling her the truth–and God forbid they be doing so–it would be an awful experience for him.
Better to stop the fire now rather than allow it to fester.
Je n’ai pas la moindre idée de ce que ce mot veut dire. ça commence bien.
ça n’aide pas vraiment. Moi qui me réjouissait du message de Maxime, me félicitant de ma traduction. Moi qui m’enorgueillissait d’avoir progressé en traduction, voilà que ce mot me rappelle tout ce que je ne sais pas.
Once when I got lashed by a whip I had a pink welt on my back. It burned for days and when it started to heal it was very itchy. The skin would pull tight as it tried to mend itself and I wanted to just scratch it open, even if it hurt, actually I hoped it would hurt because sometimes that is a good hurt. Like when you lost a tooth and stuck your tongue in the hole, that pain you feel right in your spine. But it’s so good.
Anya smacked me with the slap bracelet, which was hot from an entire day of sitting in her car’s dashboard. I yelped, yanking the strip of hot metal and plastic off, and held my wrist. The bracelet left a bright red welt around my wrist. She smiled at me and kissed the welt. That was the essence of Anya. She loved to strike out unprovoked, striking when it would hurt most, reveling in the pain she caused. But she would always make up for it. She reveled as much in the difficulty of regaining trust as she did in others’ pain.
there were five on his back. Two on top. One middle. Two on the dimples lower down. Like the face on the die, but this wasn’t a lucky roll. He hasn’t rolled the lucky number in a while.
He likes to spends the early hours before dawn tracing the swollen, red ridges marching their way across her otherwise unmarred skin.
He loves them – not her or his job, not his estranged parents or his shitty ass apartment, certainly not having to chase down his next hit, God, not even the fucking sex. He just loves those welts marring her stomach, her pert little ass, her dimpled lower back. He loves that even after he’s out of currency and she’s warming someone else’s bed, she’s still his.
The welt was etched into her skin like the script on a tombstone. She pawed at it as pain burned up her arm. She wondered whether it would ever heal, knowing deep down it was going to leave a scar.
the welt was etched into her skin like the script on a tombstone. She pawed at it as pain burned up her arm. She wondered whether it would ever heal, knowing it was…
The vase had nothing but welted roses. The roses were always welted because no one bothered to change the water. It smelled like soggy socks. They looked a little like old soggy socks too.
A red mark caught his attention. He raised his arm to study the injury. Was it from his fall? No, he’d slid on his other side. This was from her, he remembered, from her frustrated attempts to move his arm during their last sparring match.
When my head bounced off the windshield I remembered nothing for a few moments, then I could not see from one eye, panicked, I felt around my chest and face hoping to find my displaced eyeball, to discover it was only a socket covered with blood and a gash cross the forehead, draining down. The iron taste of blood on my lips.
It was a welt on her leg, the one mar in her otherwise flawless body. It didn’t show too often because she would always wear pants to cover it up, but she knew they were there, and that was enough for her to remember that she wasn’t perfect.
There was a welt on her right shoulder, from the strap of his bag. It must have weighed at least ten kilos,but she would carry it without complaint.A small burden to bear for being this close to him.
It hurt. The worst sensation trembled through my entire being. So strange. It went on for so long that I thought I had forgotten what it felt to be normal. To not hurt. To not be hurt. The welt you left on my soul is worse than any you ever left on my body.
It was a big one, bigger than anyone before it. She looked at the raised brown skin and wondered if her husband woudl be upset. He was the first born after all, tal,l bony, dark eyes, bushy eybrows. Just like his father.
He deserved it though.
My strike is growing into a welt, you’ll be handed what you’ve dealt. Thick and poisonous on your skin, I simply can’t wait to begin. I’ll choke you out like a weed, on your very life I’ll feed. Sit you out until you’re cold, watch this new scene unfold. You’re no match for my mind, you couldn’t withstand the people of my kind. We’re not like you, yes it’s true. We’re something totally completely new. Aliens to the human race, though we do not live in outer space. We live right here near your home, quietly across the earth we roam. Leaving human flesh alone, until you dare to cross our zone. Then we’ll have you killed on the spot, what a poor unfortunate lot.
A large blue bruise welted up on his skin
The reminder of last night’s events start playing again
Slick with sweat from head to toe
Both bodies caught in passion’s throe
Lights turned off so you can’t see
Cries of wondrous ecstasy
Music blaring
Clothes are tearing
His head is spinning
No longer grinning
He’s filled with lust and greed
He takes what he wants
She’s done with this deed
A violent hit
He’s s
As I turned my arm around, I already saw a welt forming form the simple burn I’d earned in combat. I watched as it healed into a small battle scar, of which I already had plenty. I was always proud of them, no matter the circumstance under which they were earned.
at times I like to think I’m hurt
but that isn’t really true
I search my arms for scars I’m sure I made
and realize there is nothing there
I know that I should not be sad
but I’ll wretch and never vomit
I’ll wince without a welt
my smile misses something
in exactly the cliche way I always knew it would
and at times I like to think I’m hurt
Im not sure what welt means. uhm im guessing it has something to do with maybe a burn like when it swells us. avtually i think that is exactly what it means upon further investigation. welt= burn that is swollen. i sure hope i dont welt anyanytaa
I have a welt the size of a grapefruit on my upper thigh. It is as blue as his eye
and brown as his tie.
She just couldn’t get over the number of welts on Sadie’s face. The mosquitoes on the island were ravenous and they were all being bitten. But Sadie was the sweetest of them all.
Just when I figured I needed one more simple welt for my shattered heart, he came right back and un sewed every single piece I have spent forever trying to fix. He doesn’t even try, and I never ever could have figured this man would be the reason I would never be the same again. he changed me in way I never could have imagined. And here I am, trying more and more to forget about him, his silhouette haunts my every move.
She knew it was a spider bite by the size of the welt left behind. She winced as she prodded the tender area. She pulled out a snake bite kits and a knife. Disinfected the area, grit her teeth, and set about tending to the bite. This was not going to be pretty.
Ever seen a welt on felt? You won’t. Welts appear on human skin. Welts result from someon belting your skin with a belt. Hell, did I write that? Where else would a welt well-up from? Wherever they come from, welts are nasty things. Try to avoid getting a welt if you can.
jkjkhkh
Hail pelted her jacket as she waited for the light to wander it’s way around the cycle. People in cars next to her had their wipers wiping as fast as possible. How fast would a wiper wipe if a wiper could wipe?
The mess between us only grows with time. We’re bruising, bleeding messes, waiting to heal. But why wait? Why wait at all? We can still move, run, breathe. Let’s get more mashed up than ever before. Let’s keep moving and keep going. Let’s carry on, even if we’re too tired. I’m not going to wait for the ending. I’m going to run.
It was invisible to the eye
but her words lashed and scarred
as much as any whip or flail
leaving an indelible mark
that lasted a lifetime
Sarah would not tell us how Jimmy received the large, pink welt on his right forearm, nor would she imply that it had been done on purpose. Her abusive husband had been in jail for several years, and she would never use a belt or anything harmful on her son. Her new boyfriend, however, looked warier than usual.
But I degress.This type of thinking is kin to hitting yourself with a switch and not expecting a welt.
The large red mark on her face only served to disgust those around her. Everywhere she went, the red welt served as a distinguishing feature, marking her as an outcast. Yet, she didnt mind. She liked to think of that welt as a sort of Border Patrol, letting in only those who could see past the physical features.
I reached behind me and prodded the welt on my back. Ouch. That’s what I get for coming home late and being shoved into the door handle, I guess. I mean, was it even really my fault? Why’d he have to get to mean, so defensive? It was just a night with my girls!
i don’t know what welt is
because spanish my native language is
i know i’m not the best poet
but i won’t use “is” again, I promise
As i sat in the moonlight
upon the hill you see
i couldn’t remove your being
a welt of the heart clearly
the shattered days commenced
marching ever slow
and in the end i couldn’t.
ever let you go.
The welt on her skin glistened red, throbbed. He had left his mark. She looks at it and secretly smiles.
Looking in the mirror, she touches the cuts, bruises and welts he left last time.
She wanted to run to get out but too scared
A welt resided on his arm. Miss. Kelburg could see it as plain as day underneath his damp shirt. How difficult.
Miss. Kelburg hoped Steven’s home life wasn’t as bad as her’s had been. Neither her father nor her mother ever raised a hand against her; it was always her brother with Mr. and Mrs. Kelburg. She had witnessed first-hand what people were capable of doing to children and since she left Iowa in the dust as soon as she turned sixteen with her brother (who was eighteen), she had been adamant about stopping child abuse and neglect.
And now, nine years after becoming a teacher for West Diamond Junior High School, she thought she had one. One of them. If her eyes were telling her the truth–and God forbid they be doing so–it would be an awful experience for him.
Better to stop the fire now rather than allow it to fester.
Je n’ai pas la moindre idée de ce que ce mot veut dire. ça commence bien.
ça n’aide pas vraiment. Moi qui me réjouissait du message de Maxime, me félicitant de ma traduction. Moi qui m’enorgueillissait d’avoir progressé en traduction, voilà que ce mot me rappelle tout ce que je ne sais pas.
Once when I got lashed by a whip I had a pink welt on my back. It burned for days and when it started to heal it was very itchy. The skin would pull tight as it tried to mend itself and I wanted to just scratch it open, even if it hurt, actually I hoped it would hurt because sometimes that is a good hurt. Like when you lost a tooth and stuck your tongue in the hole, that pain you feel right in your spine. But it’s so good.
I woke with welts along my arm.
I didn’t realize that dreams did so much harm.
Anya smacked me with the slap bracelet, which was hot from an entire day of sitting in her car’s dashboard. I yelped, yanking the strip of hot metal and plastic off, and held my wrist. The bracelet left a bright red welt around my wrist. She smiled at me and kissed the welt. That was the essence of Anya. She loved to strike out unprovoked, striking when it would hurt most, reveling in the pain she caused. But she would always make up for it. She reveled as much in the difficulty of regaining trust as she did in others’ pain.
there were five on his back. Two on top. One middle. Two on the dimples lower down. Like the face on the die, but this wasn’t a lucky roll. He hasn’t rolled the lucky number in a while.
He likes to spends the early hours before dawn tracing the swollen, red ridges marching their way across her otherwise unmarred skin.
He loves them – not her or his job, not his estranged parents or his shitty ass apartment, certainly not having to chase down his next hit, God, not even the fucking sex. He just loves those welts marring her stomach, her pert little ass, her dimpled lower back. He loves that even after he’s out of currency and she’s warming someone else’s bed, she’s still his.
No matter what she or anyone else says.
What does this even mean?
The welt was etched into her skin like the script on a tombstone. She pawed at it as pain burned up her arm. She wondered whether it would ever heal, knowing deep down it was going to leave a scar.
the welt was etched into her skin like the script on a tombstone. She pawed at it as pain burned up her arm. She wondered whether it would ever heal, knowing it was…
confusion. Maybe it’s supposed to be Mr. Welt?
Welcome, Mr. Welt. Are you ready? He said with a grin on his face. Does he know?