Park bench. They can be pretty, sometimes they’re just wooden. Or maybe they might have a sign that says “wet paint” in which case you won’t want to sit on it. They also have advertisements. A lot of times I’ll see one that has an advertisement that says, “See! You looked!”
gum, sex ,love, first kisses, trees, school education waiting for parents, busses, cigarettes, jokes, homeless people, interested conversation, waiting
The old couple sat on the bench not speaking not touching as if they had no need to meld the space that each had occupied for so many years a lifetime.
There once was a bench where a man sat
Every one saw him as “alone”
but little did they realize
he flew with the pigeons
that bared him more attention
than the humblest of human souls
A fat turtle sat down on a bench. He didn’t move around too much once he was sitting, but when he got up he wondered how the had so many splinters in his ass.
they sat on the bench, peacefully, quietly together. The sun shined brightly, but there was a chilly breeze, not freezing but enough to prompt them to sit closer to each other, unconsciously seeking each other’s body heat, enjoying eachother’s company
you sit on it, you share it with the person you love, and kiss eternally, you rest on a bench, you eat on a bench, you apreciate nature, you laugh with your best friend, you tell secrets,
Bench. A bench is nice. A good place to sit, to think. To talk, to listen. A lovely place. Not so much if the bench has no back, though. If it’s just a seat, that’s kinda crappy. But maybe that’s just because my spine hates me so much. But hey, benches. Benches are pretty cool in my books. All right?
She sat on the bench watching the cherry petals fall like soft pink tears. She sighed, slumped forward and blew at one that strayed close to her face. Why was she here?
I was once tagged in a photo of a bench by my best friend. I wanted it; it was a beautiful thing surrounded by trees. I really like trees. As a child I worshiped them. I would ask them to let me climb them, of course they always said yes, but I always gave them the option of telling me no by dropping leaves right on my head. I suppose if I’d met an evil tree it would’ve fell on me.
I think of soccer and any type of sports where you get bench. You have to seat down and cant play. But you also have to think about giving others the oppurtunity of palyins as well.
carved from wood of fallen trees,
you’re no more than a useless seat.
once majestic, providing air for us, keeping us alive and close enough to well,
now too uncomfortable for a moment’s rest.
Benches are everywhere. You can find them in malls, subways, airports and parks as well as many other random places. They are commonly used for sitting although some homeless people sleep on them. Crazy bird ladies use them during the day to feed rats with wings, commonly called pigeons; birds also have an uncanny knack for pooping on benches, so be careful.
There he was sitting on the bench. I didn’t know whether or not to go say hi or to just walk away, avoid eye contact, and maybe if I was lucky I’d get to the street without being noticed. But there he was. The string loose in his hand and the little elephant shaped balloon bobbing happily.
I sat on the bench waiting for the love of my life. He was on his way i knew he was he would never break his promise. he said hed be here at 1 pm although why do i have this feeling that something terrible is going to happen. i dont know what but its going to be bad.
i immediatly think of the scene in taylor swift’s music video “you belong with me” where she is sitting on the bench next to the guy…why can’t that ever happen to me? i wish i could find love. i’ve never even kissed anyone. still waiting for that guy, i suppose.
I was sitting on a bench one day, when my sunlight was suddenly blocked by a tall and imposing figure. “You’ll have to come with us now, miss” the figure said and extended his hand.
The bench….it all happened while I was sitting on that bench! But where do I start? If only I had the words to explain…! All I could hear was the sound of the children on the playground next to that bench. It would be a sound I’d remember for a very long time. Those children running and climbing….chasing each other and having a grand old time..until…the storm came. It just came all of a sudden and without warning.
he awoke to prodding branches. there was a wild second where he thought he was being attacked by some kind of demonic tree, but it turned out to be kids poking him awake from his park bench of a bed. wait…what the hell was he doing on a park bench?
As I sat down on the cold stone, I felt a vague apathy float thicker in me. Nothing had happened that day, and I knew nothing would happen as the day wore on.
a bench in a front yard, used merely for decorative purposes, became our spot. we sat there not caring about what the people that inhibited the house are thinking as they stare out at us. we are in love and it did not matter, we became a part of their yard.
I sat on a bench but the paint was still wet so I went to the store but the bench followed me with revenge in its eyes. I ran all they way back home but when I went inside my house the bench was in my bed. I cried until all the wet paint was washed from the bench and then the life went from its eyes and the curse was over.
sit on the bench in the park and watch my son play. He is playing hide and seek. The bench is blue and comfortable. I like to sit on the bench in the sun. It is summer time. Some people sleep on benches, and some people put on rollerskates there. There are benches in dogparks.
The bench flowed like water from her eyes. Maybe she was delusional, but she had never seen anything quite so beautiful, so intricately carved. She wondered what love had gone into it. She wondered if the man who had built that bench had loved some woman. It looked like unrequited love.
place to sit. place to sit and think. think about life, which is something i really ned to do soon. get myself together and think. about what i want to do. whit this situation, and what is yet to come. the rest of my life. what do i want? i need to stress down. sit at a bench, and think.
a bench is where old ladies sit and feed birds. You can rest here and its nice and cool under large trees. They have many benches in central park and this is where most people like to sit. Central Park is in New york. I love benches because they are comfortable while providing a view.
I love the feel of this bench…It makes me feel powerful. I have the world figured out. Watching as people pass by. So safe and sound. How did life become like this? I wish I could tell them the secrets I have learned by watching them all as I sit on this bench.
A man and a woman, white haired and haggard, rested on a decrepit wooden bench that dipped in the middle under their weight. The twilight cast an eerie feel on the dying grass around them as a soft drizzle
she sat cross legged on the bench, ignoring the flocking birds crowding around her ankles. tapping her cigarette with a flick of her thumb, she sent a rush of ashes into the winds – briefly, the birds chased the white powder, only to tremble back to the ground around her when they realized there never had been anything nutritious about the cigarette, burned or otherwise.
her mind whirled back again and again, trying to force some memory to appear in her thoughts – it was only giving her a headache that made her crave the hot burn of a shot and another pack of cigarettes. she hated these blank spots in her memory – as missing as if cancer had eaten little holes in her brain. well, she considered, nearly laughing as she brought the end of the cigarette to her lips for a long pull, perhaps it had.
He sat down at the bench, one hand going down to make sure his sword belt wasn’t about to fall off. His hair was light brown, his eyes a dark shade. He was maybe in his early twenties. He glanced around. He knew she was supposed to show up soon, but how soon? What if she’d tricked him into coming here on purpose?
No matter. She would show up soon. He knew it. She had to. So much depended on this. If she didn’t show up, then his suspicions would be confirmed. She was the traitor.
“Come on, do your stuff,” He thought, “Show up. I know you will.”
As i sit on this bench i ponder some questions..Why am I here? Where am I going? Looking at the night full of stars in the sky..How have I come to be here? This bench which has led me to ponder these questions. How will I figure out who I am?
BENCH: it was Descartes that famously said,”dubito ergo cogito; cogito ergo sum.” or translated into english,”i doubt, therefore i think; i think therefore i am.”
The rain had just stopped, leaving the park bench slick and shiny with water. It was a lonely park, nobody had visited it because of the weather, save for one lonely teenage girl huddling underneath the boughs of a large oak tree. She was a young thing, probably no more than sixteen years old, with midnight-black hair and bright blue eyes.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing here. It’s too far from the house. But it’s quiet here. There isn’t crying or heavy breathing or prying eyes. There’s absolutely nothing but his thoughts and the breeze and the rough wood against his back.
Park bench. They can be pretty, sometimes they’re just wooden. Or maybe they might have a sign that says “wet paint” in which case you won’t want to sit on it. They also have advertisements. A lot of times I’ll see one that has an advertisement that says, “See! You looked!”
The bench of flowers held my fascination for a little more than eternity. Where will I sit?
I love how, in Forrest Gump, the main character interacts with others on a plain park bench.
gum, sex ,love, first kisses, trees, school education waiting for parents, busses, cigarettes, jokes, homeless people, interested conversation, waiting
The old couple sat on the bench not speaking not touching as if they had no need to meld the space that each had occupied for so many years a lifetime.
There once was a bench where a man sat
Every one saw him as “alone”
but little did they realize
he flew with the pigeons
that bared him more attention
than the humblest of human souls
A fat turtle sat down on a bench. He didn’t move around too much once he was sitting, but when he got up he wondered how the had so many splinters in his ass.
Broken-hearted.
They’ve all departed.
From cradle to grave,
There will be no salvation—
only penitence,
and denigration.
As I sit n the park on the coldest bench all alone, I’m wondering which way is home.
they sat on the bench, peacefully, quietly together. The sun shined brightly, but there was a chilly breeze, not freezing but enough to prompt them to sit closer to each other, unconsciously seeking each other’s body heat, enjoying eachother’s company
you sit on it, you share it with the person you love, and kiss eternally, you rest on a bench, you eat on a bench, you apreciate nature, you laugh with your best friend, you tell secrets,
Bench. A bench is nice. A good place to sit, to think. To talk, to listen. A lovely place. Not so much if the bench has no back, though. If it’s just a seat, that’s kinda crappy. But maybe that’s just because my spine hates me so much. But hey, benches. Benches are pretty cool in my books. All right?
She sat on the bench watching the cherry petals fall like soft pink tears. She sighed, slumped forward and blew at one that strayed close to her face. Why was she here?
I was once tagged in a photo of a bench by my best friend. I wanted it; it was a beautiful thing surrounded by trees. I really like trees. As a child I worshiped them. I would ask them to let me climb them, of course they always said yes, but I always gave them the option of telling me no by dropping leaves right on my head. I suppose if I’d met an evil tree it would’ve fell on me.
I think of soccer and any type of sports where you get bench. You have to seat down and cant play. But you also have to think about giving others the oppurtunity of palyins as well.
carved from wood of fallen trees,
you’re no more than a useless seat.
once majestic, providing air for us, keeping us alive and close enough to well,
now too uncomfortable for a moment’s rest.
Benches are everywhere. You can find them in malls, subways, airports and parks as well as many other random places. They are commonly used for sitting although some homeless people sleep on them. Crazy bird ladies use them during the day to feed rats with wings, commonly called pigeons; birds also have an uncanny knack for pooping on benches, so be careful.
The broken bench bet bouquets of borrowed flowers brought by bedazzled bozos bent on bougainvillas.
There he was sitting on the bench. I didn’t know whether or not to go say hi or to just walk away, avoid eye contact, and maybe if I was lucky I’d get to the street without being noticed. But there he was. The string loose in his hand and the little elephant shaped balloon bobbing happily.
I sat on the bench waiting for the love of my life. He was on his way i knew he was he would never break his promise. he said hed be here at 1 pm although why do i have this feeling that something terrible is going to happen. i dont know what but its going to be bad.
i immediatly think of the scene in taylor swift’s music video “you belong with me” where she is sitting on the bench next to the guy…why can’t that ever happen to me? i wish i could find love. i’ve never even kissed anyone. still waiting for that guy, i suppose.
I was sitting on a bench one day, when my sunlight was suddenly blocked by a tall and imposing figure. “You’ll have to come with us now, miss” the figure said and extended his hand.
The bench….it all happened while I was sitting on that bench! But where do I start? If only I had the words to explain…! All I could hear was the sound of the children on the playground next to that bench. It would be a sound I’d remember for a very long time. Those children running and climbing….chasing each other and having a grand old time..until…the storm came. It just came all of a sudden and without warning.
he awoke to prodding branches. there was a wild second where he thought he was being attacked by some kind of demonic tree, but it turned out to be kids poking him awake from his park bench of a bed. wait…what the hell was he doing on a park bench?
As I sat down on the cold stone, I felt a vague apathy float thicker in me. Nothing had happened that day, and I knew nothing would happen as the day wore on.
sitting
waiting
watching
listening
reading
noticing
imagining
but most of all
breathing in the day
a bench in a front yard, used merely for decorative purposes, became our spot. we sat there not caring about what the people that inhibited the house are thinking as they stare out at us. we are in love and it did not matter, we became a part of their yard.
I sat on a bench but the paint was still wet so I went to the store but the bench followed me with revenge in its eyes. I ran all they way back home but when I went inside my house the bench was in my bed. I cried until all the wet paint was washed from the bench and then the life went from its eyes and the curse was over.
sit on the bench in the park and watch my son play. He is playing hide and seek. The bench is blue and comfortable. I like to sit on the bench in the sun. It is summer time. Some people sleep on benches, and some people put on rollerskates there. There are benches in dogparks.
The bench flowed like water from her eyes. Maybe she was delusional, but she had never seen anything quite so beautiful, so intricately carved. She wondered what love had gone into it. She wondered if the man who had built that bench had loved some woman. It looked like unrequited love.
She vowed to find that man.
place to sit. place to sit and think. think about life, which is something i really ned to do soon. get myself together and think. about what i want to do. whit this situation, and what is yet to come. the rest of my life. what do i want? i need to stress down. sit at a bench, and think.
a bench is where old ladies sit and feed birds. You can rest here and its nice and cool under large trees. They have many benches in central park and this is where most people like to sit. Central Park is in New york. I love benches because they are comfortable while providing a view.
I love the feel of this bench…It makes me feel powerful. I have the world figured out. Watching as people pass by. So safe and sound. How did life become like this? I wish I could tell them the secrets I have learned by watching them all as I sit on this bench.
A man and a woman, white haired and haggard, rested on a decrepit wooden bench that dipped in the middle under their weight. The twilight cast an eerie feel on the dying grass around them as a soft drizzle
she sat cross legged on the bench, ignoring the flocking birds crowding around her ankles. tapping her cigarette with a flick of her thumb, she sent a rush of ashes into the winds – briefly, the birds chased the white powder, only to tremble back to the ground around her when they realized there never had been anything nutritious about the cigarette, burned or otherwise.
her mind whirled back again and again, trying to force some memory to appear in her thoughts – it was only giving her a headache that made her crave the hot burn of a shot and another pack of cigarettes. she hated these blank spots in her memory – as missing as if cancer had eaten little holes in her brain. well, she considered, nearly laughing as she brought the end of the cigarette to her lips for a long pull, perhaps it had.
He sat down at the bench, one hand going down to make sure his sword belt wasn’t about to fall off. His hair was light brown, his eyes a dark shade. He was maybe in his early twenties. He glanced around. He knew she was supposed to show up soon, but how soon? What if she’d tricked him into coming here on purpose?
No matter. She would show up soon. He knew it. She had to. So much depended on this. If she didn’t show up, then his suspicions would be confirmed. She was the traitor.
“Come on, do your stuff,” He thought, “Show up. I know you will.”
As i sit on this bench i ponder some questions..Why am I here? Where am I going? Looking at the night full of stars in the sky..How have I come to be here? This bench which has led me to ponder these questions. How will I figure out who I am?
BENCH: it was Descartes that famously said,”dubito ergo cogito; cogito ergo sum.” or translated into english,”i doubt, therefore i think; i think therefore i am.”
The rain had just stopped, leaving the park bench slick and shiny with water. It was a lonely park, nobody had visited it because of the weather, save for one lonely teenage girl huddling underneath the boughs of a large oak tree. She was a young thing, probably no more than sixteen years old, with midnight-black hair and bright blue eyes.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing here. It’s too far from the house. But it’s quiet here. There isn’t crying or heavy breathing or prying eyes. There’s absolutely nothing but his thoughts and the breeze and the rough wood against his back.