you are my anchor in a mist of white and a haze of joints and moonlight on the battlefield, letting me know that the casualties are not to be expected so soon and the bodies could not be delivered to the doorsteps without fear of retribution. there does not seem to be any more conscience left in the wind.
phil knew he had to do it. it was a sacrafice but he swam down and retreved the anchor. The sharks surronded him as he tried his hardest to remove the anchor from the iceburg. He began to lose concuiosen
he is the anchor to my soul i never move not because he holds me hostage but only because i love him, my anchor. i appreciate him he keeps me solid and level and in place, on top of reality. i love my anchor. desiree m howard
She was not anchored. Insecurity rang throughout her life and it crowded her mind everyday. It ruled over her relationships, and controlled her thoughts. She was just a piece of driftwood ruining her life, trying to live without an anchor.
weighs a boat or a person down…keeps things in place…sometimes good sometimes bad…an anchor can be a steady source or it can keep you from doing or believing what you really want!
I LOVE the good anchor. My best friend, Ken is my anchor. I can go to him when I need to be grounded
My father is the bad anchor. He keeps my Mom from living!
People, they are one’s anchor in the realm of reality around them. They’re the only things that allow them to have something to shoot for — people are around to please, to impress, to talk to, to compare with. People exist for the sole reason of keeping people grounded in the world… even if they may not be real. When it comes to someone’s paradigm, illusions can be anchors too.
I believe an anchor weighs the exact amount it needs to accomplish its static requirements. It exerts no more force than necessary to get its job done.
The anchor sunk me down. Into the deepest depth of the seas. I felt like I was drowning and maybe I was. Maybe I was about to hit rock bottom. The deepest part of my emotions. I felt empty. Just like the ship I was attached to. Empty, abandoned, and lifeless.
In order to need one, you need to want more than to just stay afloat. I know that I should be the person that grounds myself. I want to be strong enough to do that. But I also want to let go—let someone look after just how far my little boats goes…
brings to mind a something, a link, a root that connects you to a spot in geography, culture, time or memory. My anchor has been hanging in the wind for a while now but I am ready to sink it deep in a sandy hill.
and you are the waves of the sea beneath which I will drop my anchor. My mooring point will be deep within my soul. There will be a line let out so I can sail the seven seas but I will come back home to thee.
I was firmly anchored now, my boots practically glued to the floor, as I pushed aside the now empty platter where the entire pizza had lain. Pounds upon pounds of meat, cheese, and bread, and I could feel myself becoming heavier and heavier on the inside. On the outside, however, I was still the same – wiry, almost gaunt. I was trying to nourish myself. I was failing.
He finally went to the emergency room on the 9th day of July, five days after the epic tug-of-war competition. Surgeons performed a skin graft to repair the damage to his hands, arms and back. Movement might be limited for a time, they told him. But god willing, he’d be anchoring the team again next summer.
This steadies huge ships as they dock, sometimes from long journeys from far away places you could see if you go on one. Sometimes they are a person. Find one of these. They stay for life.
Her anchor was reading tales of travel…
travel in words lit her soul and transported her imagination to inhabit the lives of women explorers
….like the woman explorer she aspired to be
He was her anchor. He was that one bit of stability that kept her from flying away and disappearing. He was the one thing that kept her alive and willing to keep trying. He was everything to her. He was everything. And she kept him sane.
i anchored myself in love and sank to the bottom of it. i stayed there—dreaming, hoping, reaching for rescue but nothing. nothing i could recognize of deem safe just by looking at it. i sat—at the bottom waiting to reached for rescue. i’m still sitting here.
CHUMPS! The kind of chumps who tie an anchor to their car of all things! These are the chumps we must cleanse, cleanse, cleanse from our presence. No longer should such as these be permitted, for it is this tolerance that breeds failure. FAILURE TO NOT BE A CHUMP.
He sailed away and left it all behind. Setting anchor he wondered what would become of him. Those he had left behind may miss him, but they would forget.
Anchors hold your boat down. Anchors keep you from sailing away. Anchors dock you where you need to be, and keep you out of that sometimes horrendous and tragic fantasy world you may slip into. Anchors keep you grounded.
An anchor puts things to a stop. Whether it is a boat or just a high paced, never-ceasing life, we need anchors. Sometimes, we sit here and pray for an anchor, but above all, we need to ride life like a boat.
“Hoist anchor and unfurl the mainsail; we’re casting off,” I snapped, striding purposefully across the deck and towards my cabin.
“But, captain, the storm-”
I rounded on him, my eyes blazing. “Do we have a problem, sailor?” I repeated slowly, my voice dripping with anger. My hands twitched at my sides, fingering itching to wrap themselves around the hilt of my sword or the butt of my pistol. So eager was I for a fight that I was almost disappointed when he stepped back with a quiet “No, captain,”
I sneered. “I thought as much,”
The anchor drags me down and pulls me under. I struggle at the surfaces, choking, trying to maintain my breathing. This dead weight is pulling me, and there is nothing I can do about it. You pull it off of me as my breathing slowly returns to normal.
Anchors away, my boy. That’s what we say when we’re setting up home for the night. We put our trust in the anchor, believing it’ll keep up firmly planted while we dream. When the sun comes up, the anchor does, too. Time to find a new home.
i was doing just fine. carrying on with my daily life with all the things and people around me. just fine. but ever now and then it always yanks me back down. might it be an emotional break down or just a bad day. it always comes back though, and the thing that i fear the most of is that i feel it will always be there. hidden, just waiting to pull me to my weakest again.
The anchor is the person like Daugule who runs the news program. The anchor should be very bright, pretty and smart. It’s true about the news, but maybe smth is different for radio stations.
holding down a steep boulder, shipped onto my life by a shoulder.
giving the life of living i sail.
i will keep believing and never give me a fail. a seed
i will succeed. till the day my poetry bleeds.
I threw the anchor overboard in the shallow waters of the bay. It was a beautiful day in the islands and the sound the anchor made as it broke the still water was amazing.
“Let down the anchor!” the captain called.
The crew scurried to obey his command, but one, the youngest, did not move from his position.
“Why aren’t you moving, boy?” demanded the captain.
“Well, sir, with all due respect…”
Drag me to the Depths
Cast me out away
Leave no trace left behind
Hold my grudge down
Unseen from up above
Save me from straying off
Or leave me left behind.
you are my anchor in a mist of white and a haze of joints and moonlight on the battlefield, letting me know that the casualties are not to be expected so soon and the bodies could not be delivered to the doorsteps without fear of retribution. there does not seem to be any more conscience left in the wind.
phil knew he had to do it. it was a sacrafice but he swam down and retreved the anchor. The sharks surronded him as he tried his hardest to remove the anchor from the iceburg. He began to lose concuiosen
she was anchored
in sand
throw it overboard
splashes
azure ribbons of grass
plunges
flows, streams of
diamonds
falls
holds on
forever
he is the anchor to my soul i never move not because he holds me hostage but only because i love him, my anchor. i appreciate him he keeps me solid and level and in place, on top of reality. i love my anchor. desiree m howard
She was not anchored. Insecurity rang throughout her life and it crowded her mind everyday. It ruled over her relationships, and controlled her thoughts. She was just a piece of driftwood ruining her life, trying to live without an anchor.
weighs a boat or a person down…keeps things in place…sometimes good sometimes bad…an anchor can be a steady source or it can keep you from doing or believing what you really want!
I LOVE the good anchor. My best friend, Ken is my anchor. I can go to him when I need to be grounded
My father is the bad anchor. He keeps my Mom from living!
People, they are one’s anchor in the realm of reality around them. They’re the only things that allow them to have something to shoot for — people are around to please, to impress, to talk to, to compare with. People exist for the sole reason of keeping people grounded in the world… even if they may not be real. When it comes to someone’s paradigm, illusions can be anchors too.
I believe an anchor weighs the exact amount it needs to accomplish its static requirements. It exerts no more force than necessary to get its job done.
The burden you weighed yourself down with was security at first, but now it holds you back.
I’m anchored in the Lord. Safe and secure.
The anchor sunk me down. Into the deepest depth of the seas. I felt like I was drowning and maybe I was. Maybe I was about to hit rock bottom. The deepest part of my emotions. I felt empty. Just like the ship I was attached to. Empty, abandoned, and lifeless.
In order to need one, you need to want more than to just stay afloat. I know that I should be the person that grounds myself. I want to be strong enough to do that. But I also want to let go—let someone look after just how far my little boats goes…
Stuck, not going forwards or backwards. You are in limbo.
Rusty
As I hoisted the Anchor from the calm waters, I could feel the sensation of finally being rid of the the garbage of my life.
brings to mind a something, a link, a root that connects you to a spot in geography, culture, time or memory. My anchor has been hanging in the wind for a while now but I am ready to sink it deep in a sandy hill.
and you are the waves of the sea beneath which I will drop my anchor. My mooring point will be deep within my soul. There will be a line let out so I can sail the seven seas but I will come back home to thee.
The show is over and they are calling for an anchor. Yeah we did a great job. Thanks everyone.
I was firmly anchored now, my boots practically glued to the floor, as I pushed aside the now empty platter where the entire pizza had lain. Pounds upon pounds of meat, cheese, and bread, and I could feel myself becoming heavier and heavier on the inside. On the outside, however, I was still the same – wiry, almost gaunt. I was trying to nourish myself. I was failing.
“Beer?”
“Yes,” I said. “A pitcher.”
He finally went to the emergency room on the 9th day of July, five days after the epic tug-of-war competition. Surgeons performed a skin graft to repair the damage to his hands, arms and back. Movement might be limited for a time, they told him. But god willing, he’d be anchoring the team again next summer.
This steadies huge ships as they dock, sometimes from long journeys from far away places you could see if you go on one. Sometimes they are a person. Find one of these. They stay for life.
Her anchor was reading tales of travel…
travel in words lit her soul and transported her imagination to inhabit the lives of women explorers
….like the woman explorer she aspired to be
He was her anchor. He was that one bit of stability that kept her from flying away and disappearing. He was the one thing that kept her alive and willing to keep trying. He was everything to her. He was everything. And she kept him sane.
i anchored myself in love and sank to the bottom of it. i stayed there—dreaming, hoping, reaching for rescue but nothing. nothing i could recognize of deem safe just by looking at it. i sat—at the bottom waiting to reached for rescue. i’m still sitting here.
CHUMPS! The kind of chumps who tie an anchor to their car of all things! These are the chumps we must cleanse, cleanse, cleanse from our presence. No longer should such as these be permitted, for it is this tolerance that breeds failure. FAILURE TO NOT BE A CHUMP.
He sailed away and left it all behind. Setting anchor he wondered what would become of him. Those he had left behind may miss him, but they would forget.
Anchors hold your boat down. Anchors keep you from sailing away. Anchors dock you where you need to be, and keep you out of that sometimes horrendous and tragic fantasy world you may slip into. Anchors keep you grounded.
An anchor puts things to a stop. Whether it is a boat or just a high paced, never-ceasing life, we need anchors. Sometimes, we sit here and pray for an anchor, but above all, we need to ride life like a boat.
“Hoist anchor and unfurl the mainsail; we’re casting off,” I snapped, striding purposefully across the deck and towards my cabin.
“But, captain, the storm-”
I rounded on him, my eyes blazing. “Do we have a problem, sailor?” I repeated slowly, my voice dripping with anger. My hands twitched at my sides, fingering itching to wrap themselves around the hilt of my sword or the butt of my pistol. So eager was I for a fight that I was almost disappointed when he stepped back with a quiet “No, captain,”
I sneered. “I thought as much,”
The anchor drags me down and pulls me under. I struggle at the surfaces, choking, trying to maintain my breathing. This dead weight is pulling me, and there is nothing I can do about it. You pull it off of me as my breathing slowly returns to normal.
person, man, sea, surface, thing that he
Anchors away, my boy. That’s what we say when we’re setting up home for the night. We put our trust in the anchor, believing it’ll keep up firmly planted while we dream. When the sun comes up, the anchor does, too. Time to find a new home.
i was doing just fine. carrying on with my daily life with all the things and people around me. just fine. but ever now and then it always yanks me back down. might it be an emotional break down or just a bad day. it always comes back though, and the thing that i fear the most of is that i feel it will always be there. hidden, just waiting to pull me to my weakest again.
The anchor is the person like Daugule who runs the news program. The anchor should be very bright, pretty and smart. It’s true about the news, but maybe smth is different for radio stations.
holding down a steep boulder, shipped onto my life by a shoulder.
giving the life of living i sail.
i will keep believing and never give me a fail. a seed
i will succeed. till the day my poetry bleeds.
I threw the anchor overboard in the shallow waters of the bay. It was a beautiful day in the islands and the sound the anchor made as it broke the still water was amazing.
sea
ship
water
travelling
romantic
sailor
speed
mooring
harbour
city
town
fish
people
fish-man
“Let down the anchor!” the captain called.
The crew scurried to obey his command, but one, the youngest, did not move from his position.
“Why aren’t you moving, boy?” demanded the captain.
“Well, sir, with all due respect…”
Anchor
Drag me to the Depths
Cast me out away
Leave no trace left behind
Hold my grudge down
Unseen from up above
Save me from straying off
Or leave me left behind.