My French friend, Nadia, thought the word balloon was the funniest word in the English language. Tears would literally be streaming down her face as she’d ask me to listen as she pronounced the word, hoping I would hear the thing that made it comical in her own ears. Listen, listen, “bah-loon.”
I never had enough hot air to blow up balloons–always had to use one of those strange bumps and then trying to twist the ends so the air would stay in was always a trial for me, guess you could say I don’t get along well with balloons.
balloons are big and round, usually or on valentines day they are made into hearts. they made a nice film about a house lifted into the air by a million balloons and it was AWESOME! it made me laugh, but balloons are a childhood memory en captivated into a single ball of air! they sometimes float or they sink and when they burst they give us all a huge fright!
I see the weightlessness of my words every day
as I speak they rise like a helium balloon and never reach the intended receiver’s ears
to be unheard is difficult
to be ignored is unbearable
I remember that balloon. I was just 6 years old. And it was the world for me. It can reach the stars. My red balloon. The infinit fill will air and dressed in red.
An abandoned string of balloons sat at the edge of the field, banging their voluminous heads against the fence, struggling against the heavy bag of chocolates weighing them down. Better to fly away alone into the unknown dangers of the upper atmosphere, than slowly drain of air and shrivel up on the ground, ignored.
thousands of balloons must be flying about up above the clouds, or they might not reach that high. but what is that sensation we get when we see a balloon disappearing into the blue of the sky?
balloons can be filled with air they are pretty and you have to play a game about them and even if your older than 7 you CANT let that balloon hit the god damn floor.. also maccies have them woooo!
His heart was swelling like a balloon, and so was the little captain down between his legs. This was the first time any woman had made any advances to him since his wife Zoe kissed him the day the world ended.
Rising through the atmosphere, the balloon disappeared from my sight like a fading wisp of smoke. The party was over. And things would never be the same again.
I chose a balloon instead of five sour keys. The balloon would not alter my blood sugar, and would provide a longer-lasting entertainment. I drew a face on my new prize. Two beady eyes and a lugubrious mustache of undeniable droopiness.
it slipped out of my hand and began to wend upwards on its own energy..or was it being drawn to something? it glided slowly, purposefully, a little atossed by the wind..but kept upwards.
Something wasn’t right about that boy. I watched the small children with sticky smiles, running around the garden, the hum of their happy laughter released into the hot June air. My eyes fell back to him, such an odd child with a surprisingly world weary expression, popping the balloons and halting the fun.
Mm mm, balloon! Mm mm, balloon! Wow what a choir warmup that is. It’s very fun, you get to move your arms like you’re blowing up a balloon with them. Lol what fun.
I had money. But i did not know what to do with it. So i thought maybe buying a balloon was good since every kid has one. So i bought a big red one but i accidentally let go of it and it flew up high. I should have gotten food than a balloon. At least I wouldn’t be hungry anymore. I guess depending on jealousy wont get you anywhere.
Death.
Decay.
Maggots.
Skeletons.
No afterlife.
No deeper meaning behind anything at all.
Maybe you’ll go onto fertilize a rubber tree.
Maybe you’ll just rot and feed nothing.
So go on and pretend your soul is s free as a balloon.
As far as delusions go, it’s harmless enough.
Most would love to feel as happy and as filled with hope.
Forgetting they are teethered at the neck with an inevitable finite rope.
Balloons scared me when I was little. Not just the noise when they pop, but the static electricity they made to bother my hair, the squeaky sounds when someone rubbed one, and people tell me to blow one up and calling me a wimp when I couldn’t get them to blow up. Phooey on balloons.
When I see you, red balloon, I picture your face as you float towards the moon. How it changes from fear as you look down to hope when you see the welcoming expression of the moon above you.
Close your eyes, once, then over and over again.
This, too, will pass, as they say. Are you surprised? It’s been on my mind for a while, this once and lovely moment. Bask in it forever. In knots like the ends of a balloon, our stomachs grind with nervousness. Our eyes glaze over. It’s time.
High above the rocky Utah landscape we rise like soap bubbles to the top of pan grimy with the night’s meal; but here we gaze over land untouched by man’s sludge, and we are more holy with the sight of it.
Ballon, madeline. I just watched the movie Happythankyoumoreplease and this girl fell in love with this guy who at first thought he was so nerdy and looked like a guy who’s make balloons on the street but then at dinner he told her to close her eyes as he spoke to her and when she opened them up she said he was the most gorgeous man in the world.
She remembers walking around the park with her father. Her tiny hand in his and she remembers it being warm and she remembers him smiling at her with dark eyes and dark hair and bright teeth. She remembers stopping at the park because she wanted a balloon from the vendor selling them near the playground. Her father bought her one because back then he’d do anything for her. She remembers this perfect moment when her dad loved her, she keeps the memory now because he doesn’t love her anymore.
Balloons make me consider clowns and all of their frightening attributes. When they pop, it is enough to make me jump out of my seat. Children can suffocate or something on a balloon. They don’t last forever. They cause tears if they dare to float away. Such negative things are associated with balloons, yet they bring such joy.
The young boy was given a large bundle of helium balloons for his birthday. As he gently took the ribbon, he felt his feet leave the ground. He realized that the balloons were lifting him from the ground. This thought both terrified him and thrilled him. He had always wanted to see the world and now was his chance. He decided to hang on tight and see where this adventure would take him.
At first, the young boy was unsure that he would be able to clear the steep rooftops.
I will never allow myself to fall in love with you. Sorry to burst your balloon. But you’re directionless, emotionally manipulative, and I don’t apperciate being used as a means to inflate your ego. That’s not love anyway. It’s pathetic. I’m not even sure I can still be friends with you.
A rush of hot air tickles past her cheek, and she gazes up, up, up into the canopy of the balloon. It’s actually more terrifying than she thought it would be, being this high up in a wicker basket suspended by only fire and air and some colorful fabric patterned to look like a rather rotund chicken.
Instead of balloons at his birthday party, he had bunches of pork chops. They were tied up in ribbon, but that’s where the resemblance ended. They didn’t float, and they left meat juice prints on the paper table cloths that went from red to brown as the afternoon progressed.
They rose in the air, like millions of butterflies heading south for winter. But they were different colours. Red, orange, yellow, blue… They lingered in the air for quite sometime until the wind picked up. I’ve always wondered what happened to them as they floated away. Did they pop and land elsewhere? If so, I wonder who will see it next, my balloon, that is.
My French friend, Nadia, thought the word balloon was the funniest word in the English language. Tears would literally be streaming down her face as she’d ask me to listen as she pronounced the word, hoping I would hear the thing that made it comical in her own ears. Listen, listen, “bah-loon.”
I never had enough hot air to blow up balloons–always had to use one of those strange bumps and then trying to twist the ends so the air would stay in was always a trial for me, guess you could say I don’t get along well with balloons.
balloons are big and round, usually or on valentines day they are made into hearts. they made a nice film about a house lifted into the air by a million balloons and it was AWESOME! it made me laugh, but balloons are a childhood memory en captivated into a single ball of air! they sometimes float or they sink and when they burst they give us all a huge fright!
I see the weightlessness of my words every day
as I speak they rise like a helium balloon and never reach the intended receiver’s ears
to be unheard is difficult
to be ignored is unbearable
I remember that balloon. I was just 6 years old. And it was the world for me. It can reach the stars. My red balloon. The infinit fill will air and dressed in red.
An abandoned string of balloons sat at the edge of the field, banging their voluminous heads against the fence, struggling against the heavy bag of chocolates weighing them down. Better to fly away alone into the unknown dangers of the upper atmosphere, than slowly drain of air and shrivel up on the ground, ignored.
thousands of balloons must be flying about up above the clouds, or they might not reach that high. but what is that sensation we get when we see a balloon disappearing into the blue of the sky?
its something that you can blow up that i could not blow up till i turned 8…..im horable at writing fore balloon i thought i could write more!
Up, up and away, away we ALL GO as ONE!
balloons can be filled with air they are pretty and you have to play a game about them and even if your older than 7 you CANT let that balloon hit the god damn floor.. also maccies have them woooo!
His heart was swelling like a balloon, and so was the little captain down between his legs. This was the first time any woman had made any advances to him since his wife Zoe kissed him the day the world ended.
Rising through the atmosphere, the balloon disappeared from my sight like a fading wisp of smoke. The party was over. And things would never be the same again.
I chose a balloon instead of five sour keys. The balloon would not alter my blood sugar, and would provide a longer-lasting entertainment. I drew a face on my new prize. Two beady eyes and a lugubrious mustache of undeniable droopiness.
it slipped out of my hand and began to wend upwards on its own energy..or was it being drawn to something? it glided slowly, purposefully, a little atossed by the wind..but kept upwards.
Something wasn’t right about that boy. I watched the small children with sticky smiles, running around the garden, the hum of their happy laughter released into the hot June air. My eyes fell back to him, such an odd child with a surprisingly world weary expression, popping the balloons and halting the fun.
I love balloons I love them in all colors and shapes and sizes. My favorite balloon was at my hubby’s 40th BD party
Mm mm, balloon! Mm mm, balloon! Wow what a choir warmup that is. It’s very fun, you get to move your arms like you’re blowing up a balloon with them. Lol what fun.
I had money. But i did not know what to do with it. So i thought maybe buying a balloon was good since every kid has one. So i bought a big red one but i accidentally let go of it and it flew up high. I should have gotten food than a balloon. At least I wouldn’t be hungry anymore. I guess depending on jealousy wont get you anywhere.
reminds me of Up, i wish i could put a million balloons on my house and float away somewhere.
a building in which monks live?
round, multiple colors, parties, friends, cake, pop, blow up, air, inflate, deflate, fun, shapes, clowns, food, surroundings,
Belonging to all the people and all parts of the country?
Death.
Decay.
Maggots.
Skeletons.
No afterlife.
No deeper meaning behind anything at all.
Maybe you’ll go onto fertilize a rubber tree.
Maybe you’ll just rot and feed nothing.
So go on and pretend your soul is s free as a balloon.
As far as delusions go, it’s harmless enough.
Most would love to feel as happy and as filled with hope.
Forgetting they are teethered at the neck with an inevitable finite rope.
Balloons scared me when I was little. Not just the noise when they pop, but the static electricity they made to bother my hair, the squeaky sounds when someone rubbed one, and people tell me to blow one up and calling me a wimp when I couldn’t get them to blow up. Phooey on balloons.
When I see you, red balloon, I picture your face as you float towards the moon. How it changes from fear as you look down to hope when you see the welcoming expression of the moon above you.
Close your eyes, once, then over and over again.
This, too, will pass, as they say. Are you surprised? It’s been on my mind for a while, this once and lovely moment. Bask in it forever. In knots like the ends of a balloon, our stomachs grind with nervousness. Our eyes glaze over. It’s time.
High above the rocky Utah landscape we rise like soap bubbles to the top of pan grimy with the night’s meal; but here we gaze over land untouched by man’s sludge, and we are more holy with the sight of it.
Ballon, madeline. I just watched the movie Happythankyoumoreplease and this girl fell in love with this guy who at first thought he was so nerdy and looked like a guy who’s make balloons on the street but then at dinner he told her to close her eyes as he spoke to her and when she opened them up she said he was the most gorgeous man in the world.
She remembers walking around the park with her father. Her tiny hand in his and she remembers it being warm and she remembers him smiling at her with dark eyes and dark hair and bright teeth. She remembers stopping at the park because she wanted a balloon from the vendor selling them near the playground. Her father bought her one because back then he’d do anything for her. She remembers this perfect moment when her dad loved her, she keeps the memory now because he doesn’t love her anymore.
Balloons make me consider clowns and all of their frightening attributes. When they pop, it is enough to make me jump out of my seat. Children can suffocate or something on a balloon. They don’t last forever. They cause tears if they dare to float away. Such negative things are associated with balloons, yet they bring such joy.
Air is all around us, and yet we don’t really think about it until we get a balloon.
When did you grow too old for balloons?
The young boy was given a large bundle of helium balloons for his birthday. As he gently took the ribbon, he felt his feet leave the ground. He realized that the balloons were lifting him from the ground. This thought both terrified him and thrilled him. He had always wanted to see the world and now was his chance. He decided to hang on tight and see where this adventure would take him.
At first, the young boy was unsure that he would be able to clear the steep rooftops.
Balloon. Birthdays. Celebrations. Happiness. Hope. Dreams. Love.
and the balloon, silent, drifted through the night sky; an eerie orb tailed by its streaming ribbon, and i thought: where is it’s child?
I will never allow myself to fall in love with you. Sorry to burst your balloon. But you’re directionless, emotionally manipulative, and I don’t apperciate being used as a means to inflate your ego. That’s not love anyway. It’s pathetic. I’m not even sure I can still be friends with you.
Just outside the window, Willow noticed a little girl. In her hand was a red balloon. As the mild wind blew at her hair, the balloon followed suit.
Balloons rise! Up, up, and up. Which is up, might you ask? Fill up the balloon with your juices and pop it!
A rush of hot air tickles past her cheek, and she gazes up, up, up into the canopy of the balloon. It’s actually more terrifying than she thought it would be, being this high up in a wicker basket suspended by only fire and air and some colorful fabric patterned to look like a rather rotund chicken.
Instead of balloons at his birthday party, he had bunches of pork chops. They were tied up in ribbon, but that’s where the resemblance ended. They didn’t float, and they left meat juice prints on the paper table cloths that went from red to brown as the afternoon progressed.
They rose in the air, like millions of butterflies heading south for winter. But they were different colours. Red, orange, yellow, blue… They lingered in the air for quite sometime until the wind picked up. I’ve always wondered what happened to them as they floated away. Did they pop and land elsewhere? If so, I wonder who will see it next, my balloon, that is.