I don’t know what I’m supposed to think about wheat. Should I eat more of it? Isn’t it found in bread. All I see are wheatfields..people running through them, ending in an embrace by their lover. Hopeless romantics. Foolish romantics. Wheat is unrealistic now that I think about it, it reminds me of love-lack there of. Wheat is stupid.
white faces beneath a sheet of eggshell and dust glittering in the sunlight as would the planets in the face of a supernova, far out of its reach. the dust motes hitting the cream coloured skin with somber gravity and ringing distinction.
I think about wheatabix. That awesome cereal which keeps you going throughout the day. I do realise that I’ve probably spelt wheatabix wrongly, but hey, I never really spell it. I just eat it.
wheat. its what we live off of here. we gain money by selling it, and we make bread, occasionally, with it. but thats about it. otherwise, wheat, is sold. without the money we gain from it , we have nothing.
whole wheat pasta is gross. maybe I’m not cooking it properly. Wheat is also the sustenance of the world. It seems that almost everything is wheat based. Maybe. I really don’t know about all that. Bleached, enriched wheat is bad. I guess bleached, enriched anything is bad for you.
close your eyes and don’t
think about the fact that this,
this would feed your sister’s family
for three years.
strike the match, and let
the flame catch.
Bread. Hot out of the oven. It was perhaps the one smell I cherished the most. Nothing but the smell of a freshly-baked sourdough could bring back my memories of working at the bakery with John. John had definitely become my best friend in those years. Or something close to that.
Wheat
Feeling Wholesome
Like im getting all my nutrients
Like maybe ill exercise today
I’ll take the stairs today
I’ll shave my legs today
No desert today
I’ll be outside today
I’ll walk the dog today
“Wheat. We are all wheat.” So then nothing is wheat also? What if nothing is wheat? Nothing is everything? Dostoyevsky you were a fucking genius. Oh my God we are all wheat. Wheat. Wheat bread wheat shoes wheat bread wheat shirts everything is wheat. I love wheat. Wheat is me and I am wheat. We are one and the same, wheat.
What? Like on a farm. With a cute guy who’s a farmer. Now, that’s yummy. I’m sure his skin has tanned from all those hours working out in the sun, and speaking of working, I’m sure he has an amazing muscular figure, and is great with his hands. Delicious. And an adorable accent, oh my Goddd….
Birinin beni düşündüğüne inandığım gün, öldüğüm gündür.
Artık ağlayamıyorum, yazı yazarak içimi dökemiyorum, müzik dinleyerek rahatlayamıyorum, Birini arayıp derdimi anlatmak bile istemiyorum.
Artık sessizlik, kanıma işlemiş gibi.
Susmak, nefes almak gibi.
Ağlamak, birinin canı yandığında topluluğun etrafına toplanması gibi acınası.
Uyumaksa, geçmeyeceğini bildiğin halde geçmesini istediğin şeyin bana kattığı çaresizlik…
Dilinizi kullanamayacağınızı düşünecek kadar sessizleştiniz mi?
Aslında ben kimseyi rahatsız etmek istememiştim, bu yüzden susmuştum.
Artık kendimi kelimelerle ortaya çıkaramadığımı hissettiğim için, ağlamıştım.
Göz yaşlarım tükendiğinde düşünmemek için, uyumuştum.
Ama fark ettim ki ben bir şeyler yapmamak için sürekli başka şeyler yapmışım.
Kendimi zorlamak gibi, sıkmak gibi, beynimi uyuşturmak gibi…
Biraz geç kaldım, yeni fark ediyorum, sanırım ben tamamen uyuştum…
i see the fields laid out before my eyes. they stretch on and on until they collide with the endless blue sky. the horizon seems an eternity away but i resolve to walk until i get there.
i will press on.
Farmers. Agriculture. These words come into mind when I think of wheat. Very healthy, great source of calcium for people all over the world. It can serve as a symbol for a new, healthy, and improved eating style of American citizens.
i see the feilds before my eyes as though i were at home. i am lost and abandoned and even something so simple as wheat fields erects such vivid memories and passionate thoughts in my mind. where do i go from here?
The wheat fields needed to be reaped. So the whole town came out and threshed their way through the fields, scythes in hand, with the children following behind, picking up the harvest and tying it into bundles.
I didn’t know the meaning of that word so I had to google it and I really like the wheat, I like the photos you can get in that places full of wheat and the weather and I don’t know it’s really good for your healt.
everything has a purpose. Everything has a past, an ancestry, an origin. Almost everything you eat is made out of wheat. Is the source of all bread, pasta, dough, cookie, pizza, cereal etc. Every nutritious meal includes the offspring of wheat.
Acres and acres of it, the lines of grain had stretched farther than the eye could see. It had been a hard year, a hard decade, but that…with that harvest they could have lived like kings or, in her case, queens. It had been those, those amber fields of wheat, glistening like rows of gold, that held not only HER salvation, but that of her entire people.
And now, looking over the blackened remains, the once golden stalks long since turned to cinders, now she knew it held only their destruction.
I know a lot of people who are allergic to it, which is weird because before I came to Burlington I didn’t even know that was possible. I think fields of wheat look weird and boring but I love the country and that’s where it grows.
I keep thinking that Kiera might not appreciate chocolate – because that was my first thought, that we’d get a bunch of Godiva and then sit together and chillax as we munched pizza and such. But there’s this whole gluten free thing, and apparently chocolate has wheat in it. So she’d get sick. And so instead I went to the second K in my life, (because you can always have too much chocolate and I’m approaching my limit) and used it as a bribe for Kiersten to keep her from being mad at me for too long.
We lived in a place like a painting. A house, tall and crooked and dark against the infinite blue of the sky. And all around was wheat, field after field of it, stretching off forever, cut only by the sparkling white of a river that ran past. We never did reach beyond it. We could never walk far enough.
The wheat muffins at the cafe were really good. When Kenneth had first recommended that we eat there I was really sort of hesitant. It was sort of out of the way in terms of the city. It was tucked away between two corporate buildings in a somewhat quiet corner of the the city, if such a thing existed.
Wheat reminds me of bread. Whole wheat is something I don’t compeletely understand. Wheat is something that farmers grow in their fields. Wheat is made of carbohydrates. Carbohydrates are simple sugars. I think bread is simple sugared. I don’t know what I’m going on about anymore. This is complete rubbish. Wheat reminds me of the commercial with family guy where Stewie pronounced the “h” in wheat thins.
Wheat is what I eat, I love to think about wheat for wheat is what we are in the feet!!!….
What is grown in wheat white fields for planting beown wheat, wheat whaet wheat…
Standing under the streetlamp with snow falling into my already wet hair, I think back to those days when the light peaked over the hills until far past nine o’ clock. We parked near a field full of golden wheat and he opened the door for me and my stomach fluttered in way that I’m now too embarrassed to think about for too long. We stayed there until the stars made their appearance, and I thought it could never end.
And now, with the winter on its fourth month, I know the truth. Everything ends, just like the late nights and the warm breezes. It’s natural. At least that’s what I tell myself to get through another night.
Wheat. Grain. She wasn’t the harvest goddess, but She certainly knew her. Wheat was grain. Grain became flour. Flour became bread. Bread became life. She wasn’t the God of water, but they were close. She was life, after all. Water kept the plants alive, kept animals alive, kept everyone alive. She knew water, knew it intimately. Kept track of every drop as it moved from the rivers to the ocean to the sky to the inner workings of the complexities of life.
bread
You grow wheat in Minecraft. It’s fun to play Minecraft with friends.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to think about wheat. Should I eat more of it? Isn’t it found in bread. All I see are wheatfields..people running through them, ending in an embrace by their lover. Hopeless romantics. Foolish romantics. Wheat is unrealistic now that I think about it, it reminds me of love-lack there of. Wheat is stupid.
white faces beneath a sheet of eggshell and dust glittering in the sunlight as would the planets in the face of a supernova, far out of its reach. the dust motes hitting the cream coloured skin with somber gravity and ringing distinction.
I think about wheatabix. That awesome cereal which keeps you going throughout the day. I do realise that I’ve probably spelt wheatabix wrongly, but hey, I never really spell it. I just eat it.
wheat. its what we live off of here. we gain money by selling it, and we make bread, occasionally, with it. but thats about it. otherwise, wheat, is sold. without the money we gain from it , we have nothing.
grain
toast
gold
cloudy
tall
stack
whole grain
holy
bible
jesus
fields
uncle ken
heat
warm
tan
natural
farming
simple
staple
hemp
fun
sunny
summer
swimming
growing
childhood
whole wheat pasta is gross. maybe I’m not cooking it properly. Wheat is also the sustenance of the world. It seems that almost everything is wheat based. Maybe. I really don’t know about all that. Bleached, enriched wheat is bad. I guess bleached, enriched anything is bad for you.
close your eyes and don’t
think about the fact that this,
this would feed your sister’s family
for three years.
strike the match, and let
the flame catch.
Bread. Hot out of the oven. It was perhaps the one smell I cherished the most. Nothing but the smell of a freshly-baked sourdough could bring back my memories of working at the bakery with John. John had definitely become my best friend in those years. Or something close to that.
Wheat
Feeling Wholesome
Like im getting all my nutrients
Like maybe ill exercise today
I’ll take the stairs today
I’ll shave my legs today
No desert today
I’ll be outside today
I’ll walk the dog today
Golden waves: image
commonly put upon the
final page, I think.
“Wheat. We are all wheat.” So then nothing is wheat also? What if nothing is wheat? Nothing is everything? Dostoyevsky you were a fucking genius. Oh my God we are all wheat. Wheat. Wheat bread wheat shoes wheat bread wheat shirts everything is wheat. I love wheat. Wheat is me and I am wheat. We are one and the same, wheat.
Bread and weetabix. Sheaves of golden wheat billowing in the breeze, the sunlight’s golden rays reflected in the colour of the fields
What? Like on a farm. With a cute guy who’s a farmer. Now, that’s yummy. I’m sure his skin has tanned from all those hours working out in the sun, and speaking of working, I’m sure he has an amazing muscular figure, and is great with his hands. Delicious. And an adorable accent, oh my Goddd….
Tall golden fingers, drifting in the breeze. Sway back and forth, hypnotic. A blanket of yellow, reaching for the sun.
Wheat.
The tall stalks cut her soft feet
as she stubbornly tromped across the field.
The stuff would pay for her college ed-you-kay-shun,
they said.
Birinin beni düşündüğüne inandığım gün, öldüğüm gündür.
Artık ağlayamıyorum, yazı yazarak içimi dökemiyorum, müzik dinleyerek rahatlayamıyorum, Birini arayıp derdimi anlatmak bile istemiyorum.
Artık sessizlik, kanıma işlemiş gibi.
Susmak, nefes almak gibi.
Ağlamak, birinin canı yandığında topluluğun etrafına toplanması gibi acınası.
Uyumaksa, geçmeyeceğini bildiğin halde geçmesini istediğin şeyin bana kattığı çaresizlik…
Dilinizi kullanamayacağınızı düşünecek kadar sessizleştiniz mi?
Aslında ben kimseyi rahatsız etmek istememiştim, bu yüzden susmuştum.
Artık kendimi kelimelerle ortaya çıkaramadığımı hissettiğim için, ağlamıştım.
Göz yaşlarım tükendiğinde düşünmemek için, uyumuştum.
Ama fark ettim ki ben bir şeyler yapmamak için sürekli başka şeyler yapmışım.
Kendimi zorlamak gibi, sıkmak gibi, beynimi uyuşturmak gibi…
Biraz geç kaldım, yeni fark ediyorum, sanırım ben tamamen uyuştum…
Gaye…
i see the fields laid out before my eyes. they stretch on and on until they collide with the endless blue sky. the horizon seems an eternity away but i resolve to walk until i get there.
i will press on.
Farmers. Agriculture. These words come into mind when I think of wheat. Very healthy, great source of calcium for people all over the world. It can serve as a symbol for a new, healthy, and improved eating style of American citizens.
i see the feilds before my eyes as though i were at home. i am lost and abandoned and even something so simple as wheat fields erects such vivid memories and passionate thoughts in my mind. where do i go from here?
The wheat fields needed to be reaped. So the whole town came out and threshed their way through the fields, scythes in hand, with the children following behind, picking up the harvest and tying it into bundles.
I didn’t know the meaning of that word so I had to google it and I really like the wheat, I like the photos you can get in that places full of wheat and the weather and I don’t know it’s really good for your healt.
Bazen yazmak bile yetmiyor insana. Ne yazmak ne ağlamak ne de konuşmak insanın içindekileri dökmesine yeterli olabiliyor. Çok üzücü bir durum. Bence…
everything has a purpose. Everything has a past, an ancestry, an origin. Almost everything you eat is made out of wheat. Is the source of all bread, pasta, dough, cookie, pizza, cereal etc. Every nutritious meal includes the offspring of wheat.
Acres and acres of it, the lines of grain had stretched farther than the eye could see. It had been a hard year, a hard decade, but that…with that harvest they could have lived like kings or, in her case, queens. It had been those, those amber fields of wheat, glistening like rows of gold, that held not only HER salvation, but that of her entire people.
And now, looking over the blackened remains, the once golden stalks long since turned to cinders, now she knew it held only their destruction.
I know a lot of people who are allergic to it, which is weird because before I came to Burlington I didn’t even know that was possible. I think fields of wheat look weird and boring but I love the country and that’s where it grows.
I keep thinking that Kiera might not appreciate chocolate – because that was my first thought, that we’d get a bunch of Godiva and then sit together and chillax as we munched pizza and such. But there’s this whole gluten free thing, and apparently chocolate has wheat in it. So she’d get sick. And so instead I went to the second K in my life, (because you can always have too much chocolate and I’m approaching my limit) and used it as a bribe for Kiersten to keep her from being mad at me for too long.
Wheat is healthy,
Wheat is tastier
Than white
Wheat bread,
Wheat pasta,
Wheat,wheat,wheat
We lived in a place like a painting. A house, tall and crooked and dark against the infinite blue of the sky. And all around was wheat, field after field of it, stretching off forever, cut only by the sparkling white of a river that ran past. We never did reach beyond it. We could never walk far enough.
wheat kings and pretty things
*sigh
I’m finding it hard to care what tomorrow brings.
The wheat muffins at the cafe were really good. When Kenneth had first recommended that we eat there I was really sort of hesitant. It was sort of out of the way in terms of the city. It was tucked away between two corporate buildings in a somewhat quiet corner of the the city, if such a thing existed.
Her hair was the color of summer wheat, with a halo of goodness hovering above her .
ok
Wheat reminds me of bread. Whole wheat is something I don’t compeletely understand. Wheat is something that farmers grow in their fields. Wheat is made of carbohydrates. Carbohydrates are simple sugars. I think bread is simple sugared. I don’t know what I’m going on about anymore. This is complete rubbish. Wheat reminds me of the commercial with family guy where Stewie pronounced the “h” in wheat thins.
Wheat is what I eat, I love to think about wheat for wheat is what we are in the feet!!!….
What is grown in wheat white fields for planting beown wheat, wheat whaet wheat…
Arman, wrote this dont steal it!!
Wheat is what I eat, I love to think about wheat for wheat is what we are in the feet!!!….
Arman, wrote this dont steal it!!
I don’t know anything about nor do I give a shit about wheat. I’m just waiting for the timer to go out.
Standing under the streetlamp with snow falling into my already wet hair, I think back to those days when the light peaked over the hills until far past nine o’ clock. We parked near a field full of golden wheat and he opened the door for me and my stomach fluttered in way that I’m now too embarrassed to think about for too long. We stayed there until the stars made their appearance, and I thought it could never end.
And now, with the winter on its fourth month, I know the truth. Everything ends, just like the late nights and the warm breezes. It’s natural. At least that’s what I tell myself to get through another night.
Wheat. Grain. She wasn’t the harvest goddess, but She certainly knew her. Wheat was grain. Grain became flour. Flour became bread. Bread became life. She wasn’t the God of water, but they were close. She was life, after all. Water kept the plants alive, kept animals alive, kept everyone alive. She knew water, knew it intimately. Kept track of every drop as it moved from the rivers to the ocean to the sky to the inner workings of the complexities of life.