On a five-lined manuscript, there are two major clefs and households. One at the top and one at the bottom. In both of the families, the stems are like parents, guiding and supporting the little notes. They stay low and watch with happiness when the notes go higher because they are proud of them. They stay high and help them sustain their places when they are lower. When the notes encounter sharps or flats, the stems always stay to watch them grow. Now not all sharps are good and not all flats are bad, so they do their best to keep them in a major key.
On a five-lined manuscript, everyone is a family. With the help of the notes and the stems, the speed and the dynamics, the sharps and the flats, a song or a piece can then blossom into life.
The stem program at alabama is what makes me think that a career in engineering might not be so bad. I am horrible at math and physics, but find engineering concepts incredibly interesting. Therefore STEM lets me be in that workforce, but handle the business side of engineering instead.
She twirled the flower between two fingers, watching the petals slowly fall off. The sun beat down, but the cool breeze subsided the effects of the early July heat. She stared at the clear sky and thought “I should feel content right now.” It was one of those times where thinking something does not make it so.
She leaned down, examining the flower from every angle. She breathed in its scent; disappointingly thin. Snapping the stem, she threw the blossom into the compost heap.
The stem broke. He looked at the fallen flower as she broke another.
“Why?” he asked slowly.
“It was dead already and you need to be healed”, she snapped another stem and dropped the flower head into the pot of water.
“I understand now,” Doyle interrupted her, “why we always meet in restaurant stalls, or corridors, rather than in your office. The Department of Justice has never heard of you. Which, you will probably tell me, is because you are so super secret , even your own people don’t know about you. You’re as bad as Lambert, always whispering from the shadows, but when I turn around there’s only fumes, nothing but a wisp to prove you were ever there!” He paused, waiting to see if she would protest, then he exploded with rage; “How do you expect me to get back in? I never was “in”; yes, they were controlling me like a puppet, like you say, but now they’ve cut the strings! They’ve shut me out! What do you expect me to do!” “Calm Down!” she replied, without missing a beat. “Or do you want your bedwetting problem to go into relapse?!” Doyle was so stunned that she knew about that that her question had the desired effect; he stared at her now like a trapped animal, awaiting his captor’s next move.
“We want you to keep doing what they told you to do, but take it one step further. You know the kind of people they had you lean on, well go for their bosses; when you’re picking flowers, you break the stem. If you get too close to the roots, they will have to act. You don’t need to get back “in”, – if they think you’re out of control, they’ll come to you.
flower has a stem, it is green. Stems have leaves. High heel shoes have stems. THey can break if you get your heel caught in a drain. Long stemmed roses are beautiful. Thorns. Words have stems too.
The stem of this gorgeous creature was heavenly shaped and in its nude glory was the subject of many men’s fantasies..Sultry, dangerous and sexy she could turn a man’s head from miles away.
In ancient times there was a flower. A flower with the scent of the sweetest thing ever. A flower with the most vivid colour imaginable. A flower with the thinnest stem; yet is stayed strong in the wildest of storms. That flower was the root of life.
A long thin cylindrical portion of a plant that allows nutrients to be moved from the roots to the leaves which allows growth. This growth enables flowering plants to blossom and fruits to develop and ripen.
Stem. Ok. First 60 second entry. When I think “stems”, I think roots. Like, family. Or hometown. Like, I’m from NOLA and that’s where my roots lie. I miss it. Katrina anniversary. Sad. Victorious. Courageous.
It was red. It was beautiful. Just like her lips. Just like her wrath. Just like her love. He plucked the flower by the stem and put it up to his nose. Yes, It was perfect.
From the stem of the flower grew a glorious blossom that blew gently in the ever-changing, ever-gentle wind. That flower was born to be caressed by the earth, and yet, it would soon find it’s ending at the feet on an uncaring beast. Sad days come in sad times.
The stem is where the flowers and the leaves stand out of, their support against the wind, the rain, the elements of nature and humanity. These plants provide their own importance, be it oxygen or beauty, and it’s best we not pluck them of their world.
She didn’t quite feel in control of it but once she hit her stride one word begot another and another. Heart-breakingly simple sentences appeared on the screen in front of her, divinely chosen words revealing profound truths, delicately unearthing the complexity of human frailty. She drew only the slightest of breaths being careful not to interupt the flow. It was a foreign feeling and she wasn’t sure where to find the soul of the story. Was it in her heart or or head? Or did it stem from some universal force unknown to her, that thing working at the edge of her consciousness and showing her the way.
Walking through the lanes of amaravathi
There is a tree once it was a sapling to which I used to water
Its stems becomes branches …as the boy being grownup.
Champagne petals, quivering stem, sunny center. Little innocence, bathing in sunshine, I pluck this from the ground, then toss it back to the earth. I am ashamed of my act of simple destruction. A boy on a bicycle runs over it, pressing deep into the sidewalk.
Quivering stem, champagne petals, sunny center. I pluck this from the ground, then toss it aside, ashamed of my simple act of destruction. A boy on a bicycle runs over it on the sidewalk.
The stem of the red rose was graceful in the long necked vase she displayed on the entryway table. Unlike the way she moved throughout the house. She had never been a lithe woman but she did the best with what she did possess.
I could see the dysfunction of the city stemming from a lot of hate. Racial hate, cultural hate, even abhorrence of one another based on social status. Funny how it all came back down to money.
I walked those streets time and time again, collecting pennies and dropping them into the hats of those too poor to sleep. They had to stay awake, in order to speak with enough people willing enough to give them pocket change worth a cheeseburger or a bowl of soup.
The stem was broken. The flower wilting, but still with color and fullness. A careless foot had stepped upon it. It had been far too small to be noticed by the careless beast.
It was the root. Leaves branched out of it. All connected. Just like the world. A big tree. With its connections and branches stuck to the stem. The stem anchored by the root. May the root never fade. The connection never lost
The stem of the plant bent with the weight of the flower. It tried with all its might; it used every fiber of every cell, but it could not hold the bloom aloft. The stem had tried to hard, had stretched too thin. In the end the petals kissed the earth. Too far from the sun, the plant died.
A stem is the base of a plant. It supports. It is strength. It might not be the most beautiful piece, but it is necessary and under appreciated. Where would the flower be without the stem? Where would the leaves cling? It connects to the roots.
On a five-lined manuscript, there are two major clefs and households. One at the top and one at the bottom. In both of the families, the stems are like parents, guiding and supporting the little notes. They stay low and watch with happiness when the notes go higher because they are proud of them. They stay high and help them sustain their places when they are lower. When the notes encounter sharps or flats, the stems always stay to watch them grow. Now not all sharps are good and not all flats are bad, so they do their best to keep them in a major key.
On a five-lined manuscript, everyone is a family. With the help of the notes and the stems, the speed and the dynamics, the sharps and the flats, a song or a piece can then blossom into life.
The stem program at alabama is what makes me think that a career in engineering might not be so bad. I am horrible at math and physics, but find engineering concepts incredibly interesting. Therefore STEM lets me be in that workforce, but handle the business side of engineering instead.
She twirled the flower between two fingers, watching the petals slowly fall off. The sun beat down, but the cool breeze subsided the effects of the early July heat. She stared at the clear sky and thought “I should feel content right now.” It was one of those times where thinking something does not make it so.
The stem of a dandelion is very good tasting in salads and other stuff.
She leaned down, examining the flower from every angle. She breathed in its scent; disappointingly thin. Snapping the stem, she threw the blossom into the compost heap.
The stem broke. He looked at the fallen flower as she broke another.
“Why?” he asked slowly.
“It was dead already and you need to be healed”, she snapped another stem and dropped the flower head into the pot of water.
“I understand now,” Doyle interrupted her, “why we always meet in restaurant stalls, or corridors, rather than in your office. The Department of Justice has never heard of you. Which, you will probably tell me, is because you are so super secret , even your own people don’t know about you. You’re as bad as Lambert, always whispering from the shadows, but when I turn around there’s only fumes, nothing but a wisp to prove you were ever there!” He paused, waiting to see if she would protest, then he exploded with rage; “How do you expect me to get back in? I never was “in”; yes, they were controlling me like a puppet, like you say, but now they’ve cut the strings! They’ve shut me out! What do you expect me to do!” “Calm Down!” she replied, without missing a beat. “Or do you want your bedwetting problem to go into relapse?!” Doyle was so stunned that she knew about that that her question had the desired effect; he stared at her now like a trapped animal, awaiting his captor’s next move.
“We want you to keep doing what they told you to do, but take it one step further. You know the kind of people they had you lean on, well go for their bosses; when you’re picking flowers, you break the stem. If you get too close to the roots, they will have to act. You don’t need to get back “in”, – if they think you’re out of control, they’ll come to you.
The stem was long and thorny, but she plucked it from the jar any ways.
flower has a stem, it is green. Stems have leaves. High heel shoes have stems. THey can break if you get your heel caught in a drain. Long stemmed roses are beautiful. Thorns. Words have stems too.
The stem of this gorgeous creature was heavenly shaped and in its nude glory was the subject of many men’s fantasies..Sultry, dangerous and sexy she could turn a man’s head from miles away.
Stem, root, twig, branch… The support of growth, the transport of life
In ancient times there was a flower. A flower with the scent of the sweetest thing ever. A flower with the most vivid colour imaginable. A flower with the thinnest stem; yet is stayed strong in the wildest of storms. That flower was the root of life.
“I dunno,” I said as I twisted the stem round and round until it broke.
“Well..”
“I just can’t make up my mind.”
“Saying ‘I can’t’ is another word for ‘I don’t want to’.”
“Hump!”
“So…”
this was an interesting experience
A long thin cylindrical portion of a plant that allows nutrients to be moved from the roots to the leaves which allows growth. This growth enables flowering plants to blossom and fruits to develop and ripen.
Stem. Ok. First 60 second entry. When I think “stems”, I think roots. Like, family. Or hometown. Like, I’m from NOLA and that’s where my roots lie. I miss it. Katrina anniversary. Sad. Victorious. Courageous.
Today was a good day I decided to pick the stem off my plants the stem were half ways off hanging to the ground
policy,creative, and ideas of thoughts? Can be more brainstorm ideas. Some which can be true or
Stems in my blue berries. i choke and i die and my face is blue like you, blueberry.
Ttems in my blue berries. i choke and i die and my face is blue like you, blueberry.
It was red. It was beautiful. Just like her lips. Just like her wrath. Just like her love. He plucked the flower by the stem and put it up to his nose. Yes, It was perfect.
From the stem of the flower grew a glorious blossom that blew gently in the ever-changing, ever-gentle wind. That flower was born to be caressed by the earth, and yet, it would soon find it’s ending at the feet on an uncaring beast. Sad days come in sad times.
words can look awfully strange if you stare at them long enough.
The stem is where the flowers and the leaves stand out of, their support against the wind, the rain, the elements of nature and humanity. These plants provide their own importance, be it oxygen or beauty, and it’s best we not pluck them of their world.
stem cells are said to
be the building blocks of
every other cell,
the key, the
cure
tomorrow, I will see lights
from above like
the cells of a great city,
cars cruising through streets like
blood through a
stoic body
I wonder if
Paris is already inside of me,
unfurling inside my bones,
metro cars chugging desperately
through the channels of my
veins
She held the stem of the glass in her hand and looked at the pink liquid for a moment thinking how she could drink forever.
She didn’t quite feel in control of it but once she hit her stride one word begot another and another. Heart-breakingly simple sentences appeared on the screen in front of her, divinely chosen words revealing profound truths, delicately unearthing the complexity of human frailty. She drew only the slightest of breaths being careful not to interupt the flow. It was a foreign feeling and she wasn’t sure where to find the soul of the story. Was it in her heart or or head? Or did it stem from some universal force unknown to her, that thing working at the edge of her consciousness and showing her the way.
Walking through the lanes of amaravathi
There is a tree once it was a sapling to which I used to water
Its stems becomes branches …as the boy being grownup.
Champagne petals, quivering stem, sunny center. Little innocence, bathing in sunshine, I pluck this from the ground, then toss it back to the earth. I am ashamed of my act of simple destruction. A boy on a bicycle runs over it, pressing deep into the sidewalk.
Quivering stem, champagne petals, sunny center. I pluck this from the ground, then toss it aside, ashamed of my simple act of destruction. A boy on a bicycle runs over it on the sidewalk.
I could reach the sky, if only I had a few more inches beneath me. Then I could greet the sun with my open, happy face and say “hello”.
The stem of a flower is green, can be tall,(depending on the flower)and if it gets good nutriants, can be very strong
The stem of the red rose was graceful in the long necked vase she displayed on the entryway table. Unlike the way she moved throughout the house. She had never been a lithe woman but she did the best with what she did possess.
I could see the dysfunction of the city stemming from a lot of hate. Racial hate, cultural hate, even abhorrence of one another based on social status. Funny how it all came back down to money.
I walked those streets time and time again, collecting pennies and dropping them into the hats of those too poor to sleep. They had to stay awake, in order to speak with enough people willing enough to give them pocket change worth a cheeseburger or a bowl of soup.
the part of a tree, stem and leaf plot for maths, support, mets backwards, branch, flower, petals
We stem from the root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. ~Shane Koyczan
The stem was broken. The flower wilting, but still with color and fullness. A careless foot had stepped upon it. It had been far too small to be noticed by the careless beast.
It was the root. Leaves branched out of it. All connected. Just like the world. A big tree. With its connections and branches stuck to the stem. The stem anchored by the root. May the root never fade. The connection never lost
The stem of the plant bent with the weight of the flower. It tried with all its might; it used every fiber of every cell, but it could not hold the bloom aloft. The stem had tried to hard, had stretched too thin. In the end the petals kissed the earth. Too far from the sun, the plant died.
A stem is the base of a plant. It supports. It is strength. It might not be the most beautiful piece, but it is necessary and under appreciated. Where would the flower be without the stem? Where would the leaves cling? It connects to the roots.