Pleasant Grove. Huh. Like, is there an Unpleasant Grove somewhere? (Likely in Arizona, because not too many pleasant things come out of Arizona. I can say this since I grew up in the deserts there.)
Also, why do people in this county never say “Pleasant Grove”? Or “American Fork”? Yet, they’ll say the full names of the towns out here. Weird.
The men in suits stood like trees around Eri, frowning and mumbling about the terrible situation. To be honest, the crashed car looked a fair bit better with a tree sticking out of it. It wasn’t like he crashed on purpose and there was no way he was going to get hurt. He had taken his hands off the wheel for one second…and well he guessed tyres kind of turned themselves.
Strolling through the woods.
It was where he spent his time. The only place he could be himself.
Carefully, he lowered himself into the stream and felt the special tingle of his nature.
His feet turned into roots and he let go.
I was sitting in a grove of olive trees when he stopped by to say ‘Hi!’ to me. I was shocked leaving a tint of pink on my cheeks. That was the best time of my life. But unfortunately, I haven’t finished my drawing since my object moved to greet a girl sitting beneath the shade of tree while scribbling on her sketchbook.
A small group of trees.
My childhood was like a grove of children swinging amongst the fragile limbs. We were lanky and twiggy and searching for the light.
I continue to search today, hoping.
What is a grove, a grove of oranges maybe? We have a bunch of those in Florida escpecially Central Florida. Ever heard of Florida’s orange juice, they come from the groves of oranges.
tainted by crimson; it is here we will wait
among the grove of serpentine hate
for our lovely bones will soon dissipate
& reveal our tattered souls too late.
so we wander astray in our earthbound state
but were drowning in crimson; it is here we will wait.
as i rose from the grove, you, my once love whom now i loathe
your lifeless body in the backseat, you felt so cold so i turned on the heat
wrapped you in a blue blanket
but still i think about it, that song stuck in my head
the lovers that left strands of hair in my bed,
delicate as a spider’s silk wove, still think about it so
going nowhere but for hours i drove
my once love whom now i loathe
ill bury you deep, deep down in this grove
Her heart was like an ancient grove of trees, twisted and knotted into one another. Skeletal branches gnarled with her heavy secrets. She had so many secrets. You could wander through her world and never get a glimpse of what it really looked like. Visitors were always trapped beneath the withered thicket of branches, confined to the sunken trails that led then safely away.
People say that it would be a fire fight in the end, but I knew better, they say some people have it, others don’t. I was one of the lucky ones. For without it, I could never have saved the world. Dance came naturally to me, I could do it all. Disco, ballroom even the robot.
The sky looked so perfect fto Jane.
It was the perfect day,the sun was out and the birds were chirping.
“For all the people who called me crazy” she thought.
What followed was a gunshot,and there she lay, in the midst of rivercreek grove.
The grove was a strange, old thing full of twisted trees. The roots were more hand-like than any plant naturally should be, clawing at the muddy hems of her skirts.
They had told her that the witch’s house would come to her, whatever that meant. They made it sound almost as if it had legs of its own.
The orange groves spent their sweet scent on the air he took in. He hugged the orange tree as if it were the only thing to cling to in a sea of sharks. The Police officer’s searchlight swept the grove in the dark from the driver side window of his patrol car looking for the young man that committed the crime of wanting to have fun on a night that tolerated nothing short of obedience.
Grove was where a kid could count his rocks secretly, and play in the wades of rain water. I love the grove of love in your heart and the fear you once felt as a virgin.
There was nothing scarier than what was waiting ahead at the grove. The monster had a thick callus neck’ its ears were made of a fiber unknown to man. I couldn’t fathom the horrible torture it wanted to include for me.
The grove seemed altogether less defined than I would have imagined a ‘grove’ being. A grove, after all, sounded like a single object – like a hard pill of plants, six or seven trees so close together that they looked to be one, that I would have had to struggle through the undergrowth to find my way. This didn’t look like that at all. It was more just… a smattering. A smattering of trees.
It stepped closer to it, tilting my head curiously.
Grove. It’s a beautiful clearing, a majestic spot deep in the woods. It’s the spot where I died. It was seven years ago today if I remember correctly, but a death all the same. I will never forget this place, and I will always remember the man who killed me. The man i must find now.
A grove of apple trees loomed over me as I strolled into the twilight, no destination set in mind. A single luscious, red fruit tapped my toe, and I plucked it from its cushiony bed among the leaves, taking a giant, juicy bite from the plump center. It was delicious.
The forest grove was filled with trees the size of the very redwoods themselves. She could feel the wind rustling the leaves, and hear the bark whispering softly to her. “I…” She couldn’t help but break out in a wide grin when she turned around to face her grandfather. “Why did you take me here?”
“You deserved to be free.”
The place we went to, as young versions of ourselves, but not quite kids. Mysterious, dark, hidden a secret for the majority, but well known to us. A safe haven for mischief and wrongdoing, but a place where we all became friends for life.
She ducked beneath and around branches and trees like she was the wind itself, all but dancing her way towards the center of the grove. I tried to keep pace with her but with the way my boots (not to mention the rest of me) clunked and crashed through the undergrowth, it wasn’t long before she was hovering just at the edge of my vision.
I sat beneath the orange tree in the ancient grove…thinking to myself, happy to be back in fl again. The scent of the orange blossoms was like a shower of freshness …of warm memories..of trips to touristy
Places where florida souvenirs where sold…gaudy ones sometimes.As a child I liked to look at them; all the crazy animals made of seashells, the mugs, the candies. Now that I’m older I just want the scent, that sweet scent of orange blossoms that I would sometimes talk a parent into buying for me.
He stood in the middle of the grove wondering just exactly how he had gotten here he remembered falling asleep that night but how and why was he here and why was he suddenly alone??
Nana stood in the small bamboo grove behind the temple. She turned on the “Show Location” option, and tweeted a single blank space.
After ten minutes, she deleted it again. She knew her mother would not be checking her timeline at this hour, but she could only hope her father was.
Pleasant Grove. Huh. Like, is there an Unpleasant Grove somewhere? (Likely in Arizona, because not too many pleasant things come out of Arizona. I can say this since I grew up in the deserts there.)
Also, why do people in this county never say “Pleasant Grove”? Or “American Fork”? Yet, they’ll say the full names of the towns out here. Weird.
Grove —– I have no idea what grow means unless it means I went down the grove through the garden
The men in suits stood like trees around Eri, frowning and mumbling about the terrible situation. To be honest, the crashed car looked a fair bit better with a tree sticking out of it. It wasn’t like he crashed on purpose and there was no way he was going to get hurt. He had taken his hands off the wheel for one second…and well he guessed tyres kind of turned themselves.
One day Emily was walking throught the woods. When suddenly she fell. When she looked back she realized that she had fell over the grove.
The mango grove was a place of marshy water, and entangled roots. The narrow trees with spindly arms rose out of the water like water nymphs.
Strolling through the woods.
It was where he spent his time. The only place he could be himself.
Carefully, he lowered himself into the stream and felt the special tingle of his nature.
His feet turned into roots and he let go.
I was sitting in a grove of olive trees when he stopped by to say ‘Hi!’ to me. I was shocked leaving a tint of pink on my cheeks. That was the best time of my life. But unfortunately, I haven’t finished my drawing since my object moved to greet a girl sitting beneath the shade of tree while scribbling on her sketchbook.
A small group of trees.
My childhood was like a grove of children swinging amongst the fragile limbs. We were lanky and twiggy and searching for the light.
I continue to search today, hoping.
What is a grove, a grove of oranges maybe? We have a bunch of those in Florida escpecially Central Florida. Ever heard of Florida’s orange juice, they come from the groves of oranges.
tainted by crimson; it is here we will wait
among the grove of serpentine hate
for our lovely bones will soon dissipate
& reveal our tattered souls too late.
so we wander astray in our earthbound state
but were drowning in crimson; it is here we will wait.
as i rose from the grove, you, my once love whom now i loathe
your lifeless body in the backseat, you felt so cold so i turned on the heat
wrapped you in a blue blanket
but still i think about it, that song stuck in my head
the lovers that left strands of hair in my bed,
delicate as a spider’s silk wove, still think about it so
going nowhere but for hours i drove
my once love whom now i loathe
ill bury you deep, deep down in this grove
And, in the lone, green grove I sat in wonder…
All these pretty flowers and these beautiful falling leaves: I have no one to share this pleasureable delight.
I feel a fog coming, and it descends upon me.
I am alone in my desolate, gorgeous grove.
A grove is a collection of the same trees together, for instance an orange grove, or an olive grove.
A grove is a collection of trees together, for instance an orange grove, or an olive grove.
Her heart was like an ancient grove of trees, twisted and knotted into one another. Skeletal branches gnarled with her heavy secrets. She had so many secrets. You could wander through her world and never get a glimpse of what it really looked like. Visitors were always trapped beneath the withered thicket of branches, confined to the sunken trails that led then safely away.
People say that it would be a fire fight in the end, but I knew better, they say some people have it, others don’t. I was one of the lucky ones. For without it, I could never have saved the world. Dance came naturally to me, I could do it all. Disco, ballroom even the robot.
The sky looked so perfect fto Jane.
It was the perfect day,the sun was out and the birds were chirping.
“For all the people who called me crazy” she thought.
What followed was a gunshot,and there she lay, in the midst of rivercreek grove.
The grove was a strange, old thing full of twisted trees. The roots were more hand-like than any plant naturally should be, clawing at the muddy hems of her skirts.
They had told her that the witch’s house would come to her, whatever that meant. They made it sound almost as if it had legs of its own.
She shivered.
The orange groves spent their sweet scent on the air he took in. He hugged the orange tree as if it were the only thing to cling to in a sea of sharks. The Police officer’s searchlight swept the grove in the dark from the driver side window of his patrol car looking for the young man that committed the crime of wanting to have fun on a night that tolerated nothing short of obedience.
juice dripped from her fingers and onto the grass where he dirtied his toes and got them sticky.
‘let me up?’ he called.
she reached her orange-stained hands for his.
Grove was where a kid could count his rocks secretly, and play in the wades of rain water. I love the grove of love in your heart and the fear you once felt as a virgin.
There was nothing scarier than what was waiting ahead at the grove. The monster had a thick callus neck’ its ears were made of a fiber unknown to man. I couldn’t fathom the horrible torture it wanted to include for me.
hot and still lazy saturday morning, you can hear the cicadas in the overgrown grass humming on the trees
A grove of trees, twisting in the breeze
if not for thee, I’d never leave, please.
I walked by a apple grove, and saw a large squirrel hopping along eating apples!
The grove seemed altogether less defined than I would have imagined a ‘grove’ being. A grove, after all, sounded like a single object – like a hard pill of plants, six or seven trees so close together that they looked to be one, that I would have had to struggle through the undergrowth to find my way. This didn’t look like that at all. It was more just… a smattering. A smattering of trees.
It stepped closer to it, tilting my head curiously.
Grove. It’s a beautiful clearing, a majestic spot deep in the woods. It’s the spot where I died. It was seven years ago today if I remember correctly, but a death all the same. I will never forget this place, and I will always remember the man who killed me. The man i must find now.
A grove of apple trees loomed over me as I strolled into the twilight, no destination set in mind. A single luscious, red fruit tapped my toe, and I plucked it from its cushiony bed among the leaves, taking a giant, juicy bite from the plump center. It was delicious.
The grove that sat peacefully under dawn’s tired, blinking gaze was a respite for one young boy that morning.
The forest grove was filled with trees the size of the very redwoods themselves. She could feel the wind rustling the leaves, and hear the bark whispering softly to her. “I…” She couldn’t help but break out in a wide grin when she turned around to face her grandfather. “Why did you take me here?”
“You deserved to be free.”
As she walked down the row of orange trees, the grove had a smell so sweet with it’s blossoms that she drifted on a cloud of pure delight.
The place we went to, as young versions of ourselves, but not quite kids. Mysterious, dark, hidden a secret for the majority, but well known to us. A safe haven for mischief and wrongdoing, but a place where we all became friends for life.
She ducked beneath and around branches and trees like she was the wind itself, all but dancing her way towards the center of the grove. I tried to keep pace with her but with the way my boots (not to mention the rest of me) clunked and crashed through the undergrowth, it wasn’t long before she was hovering just at the edge of my vision.
The field broke away into a small grove of trees. The kite tangled within the sturdy branches.
There is a grove in the ground.
I sat beneath the orange tree in the ancient grove…thinking to myself, happy to be back in fl again. The scent of the orange blossoms was like a shower of freshness …of warm memories..of trips to touristy
Places where florida souvenirs where sold…gaudy ones sometimes.As a child I liked to look at them; all the crazy animals made of seashells, the mugs, the candies. Now that I’m older I just want the scent, that sweet scent of orange blossoms that I would sometimes talk a parent into buying for me.
He stood in the middle of the grove wondering just exactly how he had gotten here he remembered falling asleep that night but how and why was he here and why was he suddenly alone??
Nana stood in the small bamboo grove behind the temple. She turned on the “Show Location” option, and tweeted a single blank space.
After ten minutes, she deleted it again. She knew her mother would not be checking her timeline at this hour, but she could only hope her father was.
“Nothing could compare to that afternoon in the grove,” he thought as he lay on his death bed.
She got married there, in the grove. Snow dusting the top of the Cedars and a curse that was promised tocome true.