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I do not know what wreath is, I’ll have to look ity up. Ok. Looked it up. It is a flower arrangement. A bouquet. The time passed now, but I can still write? OK. Umm. I’m actually kinda done so… Umm, yeah.
By me on 12.15.2013
i wish i could be like you
crafty for hours on end
making wreaths for the holidays and
this year i didn’t even pick out a tree.
each side, both persistent for an outcome found me,
indecisive, in my room, hours on end
writing what i couldn’t always write.
i didn’t want anything to do with you, i wanted everything.
By Hayden on 12.15.2013
The wreath that haunted the graveyard, with it’s dark flowers and deathly circle of brittle leaves, the world would be a better place without him, yet he is there to balance the world.
By Sarah on 12.15.2013
This feeling deep inside was nonsense. I knew that, as well as everyone else. I stared up at my ceiling clutching the blankets between my fingers as I bit down on my lip. I couldn’t take it anymore. I suddenly sat up and felt a grin across my face as thoughts ran threw my head; wreath.
By lauren on 12.15.2013
The blood soaked wreath laid on the ground near the scene where the body laid. The shadow of a human bounced across the ground as she ran underneath the street lights.
By Human on 12.15.2013
Look at you:
you are wearing that gorgeous & shiny wreath;
it caresses your wavy and golden head.
And here I am:
quiet and shy,
whispering prayers for you
beneath these thick curtains.
You do not see me:
How could you?
Your wreath makes you blind.
By gargouillis on 12.15.2013
She pulled the laurel wreath from her hair, grimacing as its branches became entangled. “How many more do we have left?” she questioned.
By WearyWater URL on 12.15.2013
The hooded figure watched through the window with solid spikes sticking from its skeleton face.
It was was waiting for the first sight of weakness so that it may attack.
By Tripp on 12.15.2013
Christmas. This is the time of year where family in unified. The circle of the wreath is a wonderful representation of this unity. Our family Christmas wreath sits on the front door of our home. It is an elegant representation.
By toni Busby on 12.15.2013
There’s too many things on the wall. What? The wall, the peg wall. There’s too much stuff, crap. Look at all this. Why do we have Christmas box cards from ten years ago on this shelf and then stuffed on the pegs are all the wreaths and ribbons and crap blocking everything below it. Who is going to buy this crap? What the hell are we doing anyway?
By DMM URL on 12.15.2013
The item that hung around her neck was more special than any Christmas wreath, even the one her mother made from scratch using twigs and redberries all those years ago.
Daf looked up at Carter and smiled. “Thanks,” she said lamely, unable to convey the depth of her gratitude with mere words. She reached forward and embraced him in a quick hug.
“Sure thing,” Carter said after a clumsy pause, and he returned the hug.
By Tone Deaf The Bard on 12.15.2013
there’s a wreath on the door and it welcomes me to you. it’s unlike the empty doors with no one to say hi to. i hope to have a wreath one day and welcome you in, but until then i’ll just sit here and wait in the lonely quiet.
By Julia on 12.15.2013
My mom put a wreath on the door to welcome the people we didn’t know. “It will make it more welcoming,” she said. But then that means people would like it and buy the house. I didn’t want to move. And I didn’t want that fucking wreath on my door.
On the hearth there was the most elegant site, the wreath. No not just the one we all are used to, but the wreath of life, love and hope. Jesus came as a baby–an infant and became Infinite. The wreath–the circle reminds that Jesus is never ending and never leaving.
By PenPoint on 12.15.2013
The wreath on Salvador’s door was, I kid you not, neon purple. And of course, Rory was more than confused by it.
“You trying to tell us something here, Sal?” she asked with an arched eyebrow as Salvador passed around full glasses of wine.
“Yes – that Christmas needs more purple in it,” he replied. “Now shut up and enjoy your carbonated beverage.”
I certainly enjoyed mine. Cider was a million times better than egg nog.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 12.15.2013
Play me a ballad of nostalgia on an out-of-tune piano, there with your plump little chickie picking the up-beats on the Alvarez her daddy bought her in her young guitar lust, you and she making oompa-pa oompa-pa on the couch, with avant-garde dreams pulsing through your old Vox amp, all because, all because…of the wreath, what it has done to her, so pert, jaunty, with its holly berries then, so dusty after years in the attic, and what it all means to her now: everything.
By Miss Alister URL on 12.15.2013
There it was. The wreath. The thing I’d climbed mountains for, killed goblins and slain dragons to reach. I could stretch my arm out, extend my fingertips. Touch it, maybe. But I didn’t. I turned away. This wasn’t mine. Another man could take it. Another day.
By Nathan James on 12.15.2013
Rested quietly against the marble, a delicate canvas of snow traces the wreath’s edges. Shades of greens glow gently against the warmth of a nearby blinking yellow traffic light. #oneword #wreath
By Oz Nolem URL on 12.15.2013
“Hi,” she said, holding the wreath in both hands. “It’s Christmas up here. I wish you could see the snow.”
It was getting dark, and it was just a loop of evergreen in Blue-Haired Girl’s arms as the stood over the smooth granite that bore his name.
By Liv on 12.15.2013
And there it sat, the wreath was seemingly inocent. It was inmobile and quiet, acting like it didn’t just tear apart a family like a piece of flimsy paper. You’d have thought it was monopoly the way it could rip relationships to shreads and then have a mask of sweetness, like an evil child.
By Abigail W on 12.15.2013
And there it sat, the wreath was seemingly inocent. It was inmobile and quiet, acting like it didn’t just tear apart a family like a piece of flimsy paper. You’d have thought it was monopoly the way it could rip relationships to shreads and then have a mask of sweetness, like an evil child. I glared at it, my family screaming at each other. It almost felt like I was in a huricane of angry voices and spit.
A Christmas wreath hung from the door of Shanty Moore, to signify the joy that was just unwrapped days before, where a child was born and placed on the stoop beneath the front doorstep of a house where three children lived.
By Annette on 12.15.2013
Christmas time again and
I guess we’re still just friends
maybe I write too much about
a broken heart
and failed love
or being sad
but i’m just trying to
drown you out of me
and I’m hoping come the snow
that I’ll start dreaming about a someone else
and once it gets warm
the snow melts
and so will you and
the ice in my soul
no i’m not emotionally unstable
but i am so fucking clueless now
i’m so sorry
By Katelin Woods on 12.15.2013
They placed the wreath at the foot of the grave, then stood in silence for a few minutes. He was unsure how to act next, as he had never met his uncle, but this was probably the only time he would have a chance to visit this grave, so he felt he had to feel something.
By tonykeyesjapan URL on 12.15.2013
I placed the green wreath detailed with gold and red over the door. It was the finishing touch to our decorations. Our first Christmas decorations together. We gazed at our house, leaning against each other. As I was lost in the thought of how happy we were, I felt the baby kick. For the first time.
By ClairaWynn on 12.15.2013
I stood, the wreath at my feet. It was only for the sake of my mother that I came at all, and it was all I could do to restrain myself from kicking the casket. I hated my father; for his drinking, his brutality, his meanness towards everyone, and for passing those traits on to me.
I set a few more berry-covered branches on the table, and mom thanked me with a quick pat to the cheek. Helping her make our christmas wreath was the highlight of my holiday.
By Cole Taylor on 12.15.2013
The wreath on the door was beginning to die. It was once green and full of life but now it was beginning to become dull, brown, sad. No one wanted to tell her. We all knew how bad this Christmas had been for her. It wasn’t a surprise after having lost her only son over the holiday.
By Kaylan on 12.15.2013
The wreath hung above the doorway, illuminated by the spotlights that Amy had her husband John put up for her the night before.
“It looks nice, but I think it could use a bit more,” said Amy.
“No, it looks great honey,” replied John.
By charlie card on 12.15.2013
pine cone smelling green and prickly wiht a red bow chllls seeping through a buttoned up coat and hat, fingers numb and hanging pine needles on a cold rusty nail as the wind blows across the front porch, painted pine cones with sparkly frosting dot the different times
By Ashley on 12.15.2013
No three this year, not here. Without another place, my childhood ornaments have followed me here and hang on our ugly eyeball covered wreath. Two say “1st.” There is one from 1997 and one from ten years later. All four hang from eyes that watch from our ugly wreath.
By Willow on 12.15.2013
Avast there you hooligans! Lest you incur my wreath, said Santa.
By David on 12.15.2013
I guess I could have put up a Christmas wreath or something but I didn’t. As usual, I didn’t do anything. In fact I have overspent this year by 300%. My budget was to spend zero and I have spent three dollars on lotto tickets for the kids in the business office. I refuse to be held hostage by the “season”. If you’re my friend you know I do nice stuff during the year when I WANT TO not because it’s the “season”. Can’t wait for December 26th.
By just a girl on 12.15.2013
i gently placed the wreath on his head, the flowers sitting perfectly on his hair. Much of my life was like this, being careful in every move i made.
By Pasty Lace on 12.15.2013
My mom couldn’t shut up. I was already on my way out the door, how come she was calling me already? We were always late anyway, it’s not like it’s surprising anymore.
By Naomi on 12.15.2013
green forest purple pink.
those were your favourite colours?
but now i have to let you go
i don’t know if i can.
i’m already hurting
By Molly on 12.15.2013
They knocked the wreath of plumeria off her head when they tumbled into bed, barely locking the door behind them. She tore at the layers of leis they wore, scattering petals everywhere in the process.
“My whole heart,” she thought to herself smugly as she sighed, relishing the feel of crushed petals in her hands, the scent of islands upon them, as the sound of love reverberated in her ears and prickled along her skin. Just like a dream, just like a dream ready to pop.
By Ash Wednesday on 12.15.2013
The boy has died
The boy is alive
Golgen circle on each
Wreaths with red and
By Adrian George Nicolae on 12.15.2013
around in circles I go
some days are good
and even just moments of some are numb
I don’t know why sometimes it’s hard to feel a thing
except missing what is no longer around
yeah, there’s a lot of that going around.
By Josh Miller on 12.15.2013
She gently stepped in her direction. In her hands lay a delicate wreath with flowers of all colors. Pink, lavender, white, orange, light blue. The green of the stems created a feeling of being planted in the earth. She stopped suddenly in front of the other woman, and then she kneeled and raised her small hands up to give her the ring of flowers.
By umbazachika on 12.15.2013
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.