This word reminds me of wood because we usually take workshop class in school, which is all about wood. However, workshop also means places where one goes to work, knitting workshop, painting workshop, etc. Why when it is bout wood the word “wood” is not necessary but when it is about something else, the subject is necessary?
Workshops are great events where I can meet people interested in the same topics. I’ve attended and taught a variety of workshops that cover everything from fishing and flytying to bioenergy and farming.
A place for me to learn additional things about a topic I enjoy. An event held that’s hands on learning. An event to like people interested in the same topics.
Me and dad were in the workshop when we heard a scream inside the! We rushed inside and saw a thief stealing our money from the safe in my mom’s and dad’s room.
My father has a workshop in our garage. There is a lot of wood and tons of tools out there for him to build and fix things. One time he fixed my sister’s bike wheel with an air compressor.
seeds of peace. the whole thing was a work in progress but none of it really worked. effectively, over time that is. it worked in the moment, no doubt. how do you get kids to feel like that in such a short amount of time. who knows. they did.
“Yep.” He made is sound so innocent. The room was full of spiraling coils, tangled wires, and a thick chemical smell. Was there a hint of gasoline? “Don’t touch anything.”
Like all good stories this begins with an act of defiance. The first thing I touched shrunk me to the size of a dime.
She sat down with all her supplies she needed for this workshop at work. Hoping to God she didn’t forget a thing. She had to present the presentation on the companies new project. She needed to persuade the CO’s. This workshop defined her next fifty years as she walked up to the podium. Laying her laptop down and pulling up the presentation, she began the workshop. Saying a silent prayer in her head asking God for good luck. “Thank you all for coming to this workshop.” she said. Going to the first slide it’s blank. Flipping through the slides there is only words saying watch the video. As she hovers the mouse over the video her laptop dies.
Table top. Counter top, little mechanical ticks and tocks. He has spent so long bent over these tables he has become part of them. Part of the machines he’s been building for so long. Heart beats to the rhythm to the second hand.
Workshop. Writing residency with Elena Passarello. I told her, “I can’t write these stories–not for a public audience, not for eyes outside this workshop.” She said, “Your responsibility is to write. You just write the truth about it all. Honey, your grandma’s dead. She won’t know the difference. Write. Worry about the rest later.” And so, I did. And so, I will. My next big project that will wreck an entire family who likes to hide the truth. First stop: Workshop. Next stop: World.
Writing workshops in Mrs. Kiefer’s class. Revising all of my shitty pieces of work. I found out after every single workshop we have ever had: You can’t polish a turd.
Workshop day is so stressful because I never have my papers done. I feel like with my writing, I feel it or I don’t. Like right now. I’m not feeling workshop.
I have so many things to do right now
We setup the chairs.. the AV equipment.. got the coffee, cookies and snacks out when Bethany came barging into the hotel conference room with a slashed head in her hand.
We looked at each other in shock and then laughed our butts off.
I really think workshops are helpful because they teach you so many things you might not have known about before. I would like to find lots of free workshops in my area but I haven’t found much luck finding anything free these days.
I really would like to find one for cooking, that would be super cool. Cooking is the best.
There are also workshops for things like finances and computer classes and pretty much everything! I don’t know why I don’t look for them more often. This website is pretty cool. it really helps just get some words out even if I don’t know what I want to write, this is actually pretty therapeutic. I don’t like that I only have one minute for each word but whatever, it
Leave me be
In this place of bliss
Little is missed and
nothing prearranged
just take for granted
I’ll always be red
through this atmosphere
of glee and siime
sweat it out for the upteenth time
Workshop my life, make it as whole as possible. Let there be a total makeover of the way my emotions work. I want to be liberated. Carved from my flesh. Carved from immorality. Carved from insecurity.
Sitting in his workshop, he was wondering that has he lost his craft or creativity or both. He was considered a master craftsman but now he has become shadow of that master. He was not able to create anything. Apparently, skill was there but he was not able to create anything new, original
It’s time to take the plunge and really get this writing gig going. Maybe I should sign up for that workshop. Maybe I can just keep tinkering here on my computer without ever making any kind of progress. That would be the safe thing to do. Never push the envelope, never break lose and live your dream. Sure, that’s the way to do it. I guess it’s time for the workshop after all.
The sweatdrop ran from his face, down his neck, to his chest as he wiped the back of his hand over his forehead. He’d been working for seven hours straight to get his project finished and yet he was no where near finished, all he could think of was that he had let that little girl down.
One of my favourite people is a woodworker. He’s got a workshop in his garage fully equipped with all of the big and little tools you need. He makes beautiful pieces. More importantly, each piece tells a story. Shares a little piece of his heart.
I taught my very first creative writing workshop in the basement of a small and nondescript pottery store, which closed around 5 PM and had an owner who was more than happy to let me use his space provided that he got twenty dollars out of it. The handful of students who had agreed to tis arrangement would file into the basement one by one, sitting on the motley array of cushions and old wooden chairs that squeaked so loudly that it almost sounded like we were strangling cats every time we shifted our weight.
It smells like dusty carpet and plastic glue and teenage sweat and cheap deodorant. It feels like home with the rain pouring down, a cup of tea and a dirtier cup of painting water on the table, leaning a strong chest in a blue shirt.
The workshop was well-organized with each screw, each wire organized by color, size and make. The scientists worked on the robots while the technicians brought them the materials they needed. It was all very efficient, and at the end, there was a line of robots ready to work the methane collection pits on Titan.
can’t quite contain
the joy i feel
when i’m cleaned with stains
rewriting reworking page
paint vibrate traits rethink thunk and
knick knack word stacks
workshop words thoughts
not quite finished
never was
There is a workshop at our church for Fine Arts and Fun Arts. Both of the workshops for Fine Arts were cancelled.
This word reminds me of wood because we usually take workshop class in school, which is all about wood. However, workshop also means places where one goes to work, knitting workshop, painting workshop, etc. Why when it is bout wood the word “wood” is not necessary but when it is about something else, the subject is necessary?
Workshops are great events where I can meet people interested in the same topics. I’ve attended and taught a variety of workshops that cover everything from fishing and flytying to bioenergy and farming.
A place for me to learn additional things about a topic I enjoy. An event held that’s hands on learning. An event to like people interested in the same topics.
Me and dad were in the workshop when we heard a scream inside the! We rushed inside and saw a thief stealing our money from the safe in my mom’s and dad’s room.
My father has a workshop in our garage. There is a lot of wood and tons of tools out there for him to build and fix things. One time he fixed my sister’s bike wheel with an air compressor.
The workshop was very quiet and dark at night. I was trying to get in the workshop because I had to put back a tool that I “borrowed”.
My dad’s workshop has dozens of different tools like hammers,screwdrivers and saws.
seeds of peace. the whole thing was a work in progress but none of it really worked. effectively, over time that is. it worked in the moment, no doubt. how do you get kids to feel like that in such a short amount of time. who knows. they did.
“So this is the workshop?”
“Yep.” He made is sound so innocent. The room was full of spiraling coils, tangled wires, and a thick chemical smell. Was there a hint of gasoline? “Don’t touch anything.”
Like all good stories this begins with an act of defiance. The first thing I touched shrunk me to the size of a dime.
“I said don’t touch anything…”
“It’s fine, we’ll workshop it.”
He always said that when we couldn’t get something just right. Don’t worry. It’s fine. Next time. We’ll workshop it.
How’s that workshopping going for you now?
Santa trotted down the stairs
His lungs full of good news
The elves would have a new reindeer to take care of soon!
They all screamed “Hooray!”
And put their work away
Santa’s workshop would be closed for the day
She sat down with all her supplies she needed for this workshop at work. Hoping to God she didn’t forget a thing. She had to present the presentation on the companies new project. She needed to persuade the CO’s. This workshop defined her next fifty years as she walked up to the podium. Laying her laptop down and pulling up the presentation, she began the workshop. Saying a silent prayer in her head asking God for good luck. “Thank you all for coming to this workshop.” she said. Going to the first slide it’s blank. Flipping through the slides there is only words saying watch the video. As she hovers the mouse over the video her laptop dies.
Table top. Counter top, little mechanical ticks and tocks. He has spent so long bent over these tables he has become part of them. Part of the machines he’s been building for so long. Heart beats to the rhythm to the second hand.
Workshop. Writing residency with Elena Passarello. I told her, “I can’t write these stories–not for a public audience, not for eyes outside this workshop.” She said, “Your responsibility is to write. You just write the truth about it all. Honey, your grandma’s dead. She won’t know the difference. Write. Worry about the rest later.” And so, I did. And so, I will. My next big project that will wreck an entire family who likes to hide the truth. First stop: Workshop. Next stop: World.
I have heard this word so much this school year that I hate it.
Don’t vote for Trump.
Writing workshops in Mrs. Kiefer’s class. Revising all of my shitty pieces of work. I found out after every single workshop we have ever had: You can’t polish a turd.
djddifjidjfioknkj
I’m just not feeling this word today. Like, at all.
Workshop day is so stressful because I never have my papers done. I feel like with my writing, I feel it or I don’t. Like right now. I’m not feeling workshop.
I have so many things to do right now
I love workshops because we can learn a lot of new techniques, e.g. writing skills, handy crafts…
We setup the chairs.. the AV equipment.. got the coffee, cookies and snacks out when Bethany came barging into the hotel conference room with a slashed head in her hand.
We looked at each other in shock and then laughed our butts off.
Bethany was always the crazy one.
Santa’s? Writer’s? How far the mind can wander in the span of a split-second reaction to a vaguely familiar word.
….Why am I commenting??
I really think workshops are helpful because they teach you so many things you might not have known about before. I would like to find lots of free workshops in my area but I haven’t found much luck finding anything free these days.
I really would like to find one for cooking, that would be super cool. Cooking is the best.
There are also workshops for things like finances and computer classes and pretty much everything! I don’t know why I don’t look for them more often. This website is pretty cool. it really helps just get some words out even if I don’t know what I want to write, this is actually pretty therapeutic. I don’t like that I only have one minute for each word but whatever, it
Leave me be
In this place of bliss
Little is missed and
nothing prearranged
just take for granted
I’ll always be red
through this atmosphere
of glee and siime
sweat it out for the upteenth time
Workshop my life, make it as whole as possible. Let there be a total makeover of the way my emotions work. I want to be liberated. Carved from my flesh. Carved from immorality. Carved from insecurity.
i saw her in the library at the poetry work shop, she had cats eye glasses and long dark hair. she took my breath away, i died for a moment.
I stood in the middle of the workshop, sweat dripping down my face.
“Giving up already?”
I ignored their voices, taunting, smug satisfaction that I COULDN’T do it, that I WOULDN’T be able to do it.
Today I visited my grandfather’s workshop. He had a lot of different tools
Sitting in his workshop, he was wondering that has he lost his craft or creativity or both. He was considered a master craftsman but now he has become shadow of that master. He was not able to create anything. Apparently, skill was there but he was not able to create anything new, original
It’s time to take the plunge and really get this writing gig going. Maybe I should sign up for that workshop. Maybe I can just keep tinkering here on my computer without ever making any kind of progress. That would be the safe thing to do. Never push the envelope, never break lose and live your dream. Sure, that’s the way to do it. I guess it’s time for the workshop after all.
we’d sit on the table
he built
and he’d talk about his opinions on
girls and winter and abortion
and i’d put my head in his lap
and never look up at him;
i’d just feel the vibration of his voice
in his stomach and he’d kiss
my neck or touch my tongue
and i’d be happy and he’d be dumb
and i’d fall asleep spitting cherry pits
at our friends who passed by.
its a big encounter of peaple for talk about a specified subject.
The sweatdrop ran from his face, down his neck, to his chest as he wiped the back of his hand over his forehead. He’d been working for seven hours straight to get his project finished and yet he was no where near finished, all he could think of was that he had let that little girl down.
One of my favourite people is a woodworker. He’s got a workshop in his garage fully equipped with all of the big and little tools you need. He makes beautiful pieces. More importantly, each piece tells a story. Shares a little piece of his heart.
Death dusts
Her souvenirs
Of sorrow –
Sacred reminisce
Of life
I taught my very first creative writing workshop in the basement of a small and nondescript pottery store, which closed around 5 PM and had an owner who was more than happy to let me use his space provided that he got twenty dollars out of it. The handful of students who had agreed to tis arrangement would file into the basement one by one, sitting on the motley array of cushions and old wooden chairs that squeaked so loudly that it almost sounded like we were strangling cats every time we shifted our weight.
It smells like dusty carpet and plastic glue and teenage sweat and cheap deodorant. It feels like home with the rain pouring down, a cup of tea and a dirtier cup of painting water on the table, leaning a strong chest in a blue shirt.
The workshop was well-organized with each screw, each wire organized by color, size and make. The scientists worked on the robots while the technicians brought them the materials they needed. It was all very efficient, and at the end, there was a line of robots ready to work the methane collection pits on Titan.
can’t quite contain
the joy i feel
when i’m cleaned with stains
rewriting reworking page
paint vibrate traits rethink thunk and
knick knack word stacks
workshop words thoughts
not quite finished
never was