Sitting on the bench next to you. You hold my hand as we stare at our master piece. A canvas half-finished sits on the esal with paint still fresh upon it. It’s beautiful.
It is what I sit on each and every night because I no longer have the home that was mine for 16 years of my life. It is cold, covered in splinters and is terribly, oh so terribly, uncomfortable. But it is my new home. My home.
THERE ARE MANY PEOPLE THAT ENJOY SITTING ON BENCHES. MANY ARE OLD PEOPLE WHO PONDER ABOUT THE WORLD. OTHERS ARE MOTHERS WITH THEIR CHILDREN, JUST TRYING TO GET FRESH AIR. WHEN THE WEATHER IS BAD, BENCHES ARE EMPTY. BUT, BENCHES ARE FULL IN PARKS WHEN THE WEATHER IS NICE.
I sit on benches. Benches seem like a nice place to sit with a person you really like. Yet, benches aren’t very comfortable, in which case that might be painful. Turning a good situation into a bad situation pretty quickly. Benches also seem like a nice place to have a picnic or around a bench.
We were sitting here, you know. The leaves were red and dry and falling against the deep inhales and exhales of autumn. It grazed our cheeks and chimed like bells and smiled with old secrets that should always stay that way, we hoped.
I have a bench in the middle of my park, on which I sit and have a lark. The bench is a place of great learning, a place of justice and in justice. It has no leanings for itself, it is just a place where people do good or evil to others.
bench?? I hate picnic benches… always have. I lost my two front teeth when I was just a babe because my older sister who was throwing me up and down dropped me and I hit the end of the picnic bench.
He sat on the park bench, uncomfortable, ignoring the stench of the homeless man beside him… or trying to, at least. It was rank, really, coming off in waves no doubt hedged on by the heat wave. He wiped his brow, wishing he could have a shower to clean his sweat, and wishing that the homeless man could have a shower, too. Just then, it began to rain, and he groaned, knowing it was all his fault. Again.
Benches are very nice to sit on when walking for long distances. For example, many are placed in parks and other public places for visitors to use. They may also carry advertisements on them. They are also located in church, waiting rooms, and by pianos.
I picture two eldely people (a man and a women) sitting on a bench in park holding hands. Their fingers are coated with age and wisdom. But this represents love in it’s purest form, for they’ve gone through thick and thin with each other. Those are the best kind of relationships. Those are the happy endings in fairy tales.
I imagine myself sitting all alone, in a park, but the exact location does not matter. What matters is the loneliness. On the outside I appear content but on the inside I’m devastated.
We sat on the stairs near my favorite bench. Silhouettes of skinny legs and thumping hearts. I beat into you and you beat into me. Hearts pouring into energy and into mazes of sky and cold air. My legs were numb. I didn’t feel much except cold air and trumpets in a far away dot across the sea. Our own sea was in my hands.
i always see this word whenever i am on this site. its so weird. huh. anyway, my sister did this earlier. she wrote something weird about how it makes her think of ole people? well, anyway, shes weird… i like this site! heehee :)
I was once benched during a game of high school soccer for not shooting enough. I was center mind and really didn’t mid passing the ball off to others, but man did I have a crazy hook shot.
I think of a park bench. Anywhere. I just saw one in a forest. It looked out of place but it was at the top of a steep hill right where I needed it the most.
There is a bench. not an ordinary bench. Well, it is an ordinary bench as a bench but it is so much more than a bench because is has butt memory. Butt memory of all those who have rested their butts on this bench. Wisecracks and all. It retains the split impressions,sagging sagas and cheeky comments of the butt owners. All those years of butt pressure on this bench and without a bench mark to indicate the value of these impressions. Stay as you are, bench. Firm, uplifting. Hold fast to your place of rest and respite for tired feed, aching heads and butts that just want to butt down and be supported in their mode of transitory existence. All hail the bench. All hail the benches. Indeed it will hail on all benches should the weather turn nasty. Let it hail as we all hail the benches of the world. In parks, at the beaches, at the seaside, in cemeteries, back yards and bus stops. In the malls and along the meandering paths of life exist these place to bench your butts.
I was sitting. On the park bench. It was sunny outside but clouds cluttered the sky. I look around me and realized it was raining. Why hadn’t I felt it? I felt my body and realized that i was soaked through to the skin.
Benches should be used more often, really. People put them in parks, shopping malls, etc., and it’s almost as if they’re just for decoration sometimes. People just walk by them without a thought. But they’re nice. Granted, there are better places to sit than on benches. In fact, I take back what I said about people needing to pay more attention to them. I’d rather sit or lay in the grass. But I suppose there’s no grass in shopping malls. In which case benches would be useful after all. On the other hand, shopping malls usually have sofas and such, which are better than benches. I can’t think of any other places that usually have benches besides parks and shopping malls. Well, anyway. Phonetically, I think bench is a pretty unsavory sounding word. It sounds like a fusion of bitch and wench.
benches are usually in parks and homeless people sit on them. but occasionally my best friend and i will sit on them, especially when we are on a bike and get really tired. or i get tired really because usually im the one who gets tired first and then we are just waiting for me to catch my breath before we start biking again.
one fine day i was walking through the park when i found a bench, it was a peculiar bench that made me all warm and fuzzy inside. it was the bench where i had my first kiss, fist talked to my crush, and first ever fell in love.
I was sitting on a bench one day, letting the other walkers in the park pass by. Thinking, in a way I never really had time to do on a regular basis. Usually the world was moving so quickly that i never took time to sit down and observe it. The baby cried but only a little, nothing that couldn’t be put off for a few more minutes, New York in the fall always just spoke to the inner workings of your heart.
I love sitting on benches sometimes, at the park or something. I enjoy just sitting here, watching people pass by as they casually do their daily doings. Sometimes I love sitting on the bench, just contemplating, thinking about life or what I’m going to do tomorrow, or the next day or the next.
The bench at the corner on 5th and Market held no specific significance to me. However, at this particular moment in time the homely wooden bench, red paint chipping, served as a most fitting momentary hostel.
She draped her jacket across the bench, it was metal and cold. She’d sat at this bench many times before she met him, sometimes reading, sometimes not.
She’d been sitting here the day she met him, hadn’t been back since then.
He sat against the bench. No, sat was the wrong word. He pressed against it, clung to it, melded the cloth of his shirt and the skin of his back to the granulated wood in a desperate attempt to hold on, to resist what was pulling him away. He sat on the bench with the same quiet, meaningless desperation a victim of a tar and feathering sits on his rail with.
benches are not super comfortable, whenever i sit on them my ass hurts. and i rather be sitting on a sofa or something better, i’m sure you know how i feel. it’s because of all those cracks in them. why don’t they put pillows or cushions on the seat to make it more comfy
There is a wooden fence sitting in the middle of the park. The birds are chirping loudly and the sun is shinning so bright I can barely focus. The bench keeps pulling me in and I start to walk toward it. I sit down, its co
I don’t like benches. They are NEVER comfortable, and usually are made of metal, wood, rocks, or plastic-ey fabric that sticks to the backs of your legs and hurts when you get up. Benches are like the sucky version of love seats.
There is a white wooden bench in the middle of the park. The day is sunny and warm. The sun is so bright, my eyes start to produce spots. The bench pulls me in and I walk over to sit on it. Its comfortable and cozy. I almost think about going to take a nap.
there we were. that old familliar bench we had always sat on. it was full of more memories than the cookie jar, or the dog. This bench, we knew so well, but not at all. where was it from? why was it on the side of the highway? who cared? It was a home type place to all of us.
It was very comfy, for a bench. I looked across the path into the woods. It was a very quiet warm day. I was the only one there. I sat there and enjoyed the breeze. It was nice to have some small piece of the earth to myself for once.
one day while walking in the park there was a bench. the lovely elderly couple sat there everyday. they fed the birds and laughed a children ran passed. everything was simple to them because they didn’t have a care in the world. all they needed was some old bread, the bench and a bright sunny day. the bench became worn. and everyone knew it by their bench. one day the couple went to the park. it was a very cloudy day and few people were out. when they got to where the bench was, it wasn’t there.
I sat on the bench for what seemed like forever. Were they ever coming back? My mind said no. It said stop being a fool, they are never coming to get you. But my heart said yes. My heart said be hopeful. My heart said see the good in people, as you would want them to do for you. But did they ever come back? No.
I sad on the bench, waiting for him to come meet me. I had no idea what he was going to say and it scared the shit out of me. This was the first man I cared about, and his mere words could shake my existence. I grabbed on to the bench, and tried to gain some stability from it’s wooden frame. Stability that should have come from within myself.
I was sitting on a bench with a friend of mine when a frog appeared on a tree stump. I said to the frog have you no thumbs?
Sitting on the bench next to you. You hold my hand as we stare at our master piece. A canvas half-finished sits on the esal with paint still fresh upon it. It’s beautiful.
It is what I sit on each and every night because I no longer have the home that was mine for 16 years of my life. It is cold, covered in splinters and is terribly, oh so terribly, uncomfortable. But it is my new home. My home.
THERE ARE MANY PEOPLE THAT ENJOY SITTING ON BENCHES. MANY ARE OLD PEOPLE WHO PONDER ABOUT THE WORLD. OTHERS ARE MOTHERS WITH THEIR CHILDREN, JUST TRYING TO GET FRESH AIR. WHEN THE WEATHER IS BAD, BENCHES ARE EMPTY. BUT, BENCHES ARE FULL IN PARKS WHEN THE WEATHER IS NICE.
I sit on benches. Benches seem like a nice place to sit with a person you really like. Yet, benches aren’t very comfortable, in which case that might be painful. Turning a good situation into a bad situation pretty quickly. Benches also seem like a nice place to have a picnic or around a bench.
We were sitting here, you know. The leaves were red and dry and falling against the deep inhales and exhales of autumn. It grazed our cheeks and chimed like bells and smiled with old secrets that should always stay that way, we hoped.
I have a bench in the middle of my park, on which I sit and have a lark. The bench is a place of great learning, a place of justice and in justice. It has no leanings for itself, it is just a place where people do good or evil to others.
bench?? I hate picnic benches… always have. I lost my two front teeth when I was just a babe because my older sister who was throwing me up and down dropped me and I hit the end of the picnic bench.
He sat on the park bench, uncomfortable, ignoring the stench of the homeless man beside him… or trying to, at least. It was rank, really, coming off in waves no doubt hedged on by the heat wave. He wiped his brow, wishing he could have a shower to clean his sweat, and wishing that the homeless man could have a shower, too. Just then, it began to rain, and he groaned, knowing it was all his fault. Again.
Benches are very nice to sit on when walking for long distances. For example, many are placed in parks and other public places for visitors to use. They may also carry advertisements on them. They are also located in church, waiting rooms, and by pianos.
I picture two eldely people (a man and a women) sitting on a bench in park holding hands. Their fingers are coated with age and wisdom. But this represents love in it’s purest form, for they’ve gone through thick and thin with each other. Those are the best kind of relationships. Those are the happy endings in fairy tales.
I imagine myself sitting all alone, in a park, but the exact location does not matter. What matters is the loneliness. On the outside I appear content but on the inside I’m devastated.
We sat on the stairs near my favorite bench. Silhouettes of skinny legs and thumping hearts. I beat into you and you beat into me. Hearts pouring into energy and into mazes of sky and cold air. My legs were numb. I didn’t feel much except cold air and trumpets in a far away dot across the sea. Our own sea was in my hands.
i always see this word whenever i am on this site. its so weird. huh. anyway, my sister did this earlier. she wrote something weird about how it makes her think of ole people? well, anyway, shes weird… i like this site! heehee :)
I was once benched during a game of high school soccer for not shooting enough. I was center mind and really didn’t mid passing the ball off to others, but man did I have a crazy hook shot.
I think of a park bench. Anywhere. I just saw one in a forest. It looked out of place but it was at the top of a steep hill right where I needed it the most.
she sat on a bench and he was benched foir the game the jury was on a bench she sat on a bench with him and the dog was on a bench to.
There is a bench. not an ordinary bench. Well, it is an ordinary bench as a bench but it is so much more than a bench because is has butt memory. Butt memory of all those who have rested their butts on this bench. Wisecracks and all. It retains the split impressions,sagging sagas and cheeky comments of the butt owners. All those years of butt pressure on this bench and without a bench mark to indicate the value of these impressions. Stay as you are, bench. Firm, uplifting. Hold fast to your place of rest and respite for tired feed, aching heads and butts that just want to butt down and be supported in their mode of transitory existence. All hail the bench. All hail the benches. Indeed it will hail on all benches should the weather turn nasty. Let it hail as we all hail the benches of the world. In parks, at the beaches, at the seaside, in cemeteries, back yards and bus stops. In the malls and along the meandering paths of life exist these place to bench your butts.
It’s needed to understand the value of the hip bone! What it can do to weary feet – like a cool shadow on a hot day. AH!
i already did bench.
I was sitting. On the park bench. It was sunny outside but clouds cluttered the sky. I look around me and realized it was raining. Why hadn’t I felt it? I felt my body and realized that i was soaked through to the skin.
Benches should be used more often, really. People put them in parks, shopping malls, etc., and it’s almost as if they’re just for decoration sometimes. People just walk by them without a thought. But they’re nice. Granted, there are better places to sit than on benches. In fact, I take back what I said about people needing to pay more attention to them. I’d rather sit or lay in the grass. But I suppose there’s no grass in shopping malls. In which case benches would be useful after all. On the other hand, shopping malls usually have sofas and such, which are better than benches. I can’t think of any other places that usually have benches besides parks and shopping malls. Well, anyway. Phonetically, I think bench is a pretty unsavory sounding word. It sounds like a fusion of bitch and wench.
benches are usually in parks and homeless people sit on them. but occasionally my best friend and i will sit on them, especially when we are on a bike and get really tired. or i get tired really because usually im the one who gets tired first and then we are just waiting for me to catch my breath before we start biking again.
one fine day i was walking through the park when i found a bench, it was a peculiar bench that made me all warm and fuzzy inside. it was the bench where i had my first kiss, fist talked to my crush, and first ever fell in love.
I was sitting on a bench one day, letting the other walkers in the park pass by. Thinking, in a way I never really had time to do on a regular basis. Usually the world was moving so quickly that i never took time to sit down and observe it. The baby cried but only a little, nothing that couldn’t be put off for a few more minutes, New York in the fall always just spoke to the inner workings of your heart.
I love sitting on benches sometimes, at the park or something. I enjoy just sitting here, watching people pass by as they casually do their daily doings. Sometimes I love sitting on the bench, just contemplating, thinking about life or what I’m going to do tomorrow, or the next day or the next.
The bench at the corner on 5th and Market held no specific significance to me. However, at this particular moment in time the homely wooden bench, red paint chipping, served as a most fitting momentary hostel.
She draped her jacket across the bench, it was metal and cold. She’d sat at this bench many times before she met him, sometimes reading, sometimes not.
She’d been sitting here the day she met him, hadn’t been back since then.
Benches, i like to sit on them. One time I left a book on one and never got it back! poop.
He sat against the bench. No, sat was the wrong word. He pressed against it, clung to it, melded the cloth of his shirt and the skin of his back to the granulated wood in a desperate attempt to hold on, to resist what was pulling him away. He sat on the bench with the same quiet, meaningless desperation a victim of a tar and feathering sits on his rail with.
benches are not super comfortable, whenever i sit on them my ass hurts. and i rather be sitting on a sofa or something better, i’m sure you know how i feel. it’s because of all those cracks in them. why don’t they put pillows or cushions on the seat to make it more comfy
There is a wooden fence sitting in the middle of the park. The birds are chirping loudly and the sun is shinning so bright I can barely focus. The bench keeps pulling me in and I start to walk toward it. I sit down, its co
I don’t like benches. They are NEVER comfortable, and usually are made of metal, wood, rocks, or plastic-ey fabric that sticks to the backs of your legs and hurts when you get up. Benches are like the sucky version of love seats.
There is a white wooden bench in the middle of the park. The day is sunny and warm. The sun is so bright, my eyes start to produce spots. The bench pulls me in and I walk over to sit on it. Its comfortable and cozy. I almost think about going to take a nap.
there we were. that old familliar bench we had always sat on. it was full of more memories than the cookie jar, or the dog. This bench, we knew so well, but not at all. where was it from? why was it on the side of the highway? who cared? It was a home type place to all of us.
It was very comfy, for a bench. I looked across the path into the woods. It was a very quiet warm day. I was the only one there. I sat there and enjoyed the breeze. It was nice to have some small piece of the earth to myself for once.
one day while walking in the park there was a bench. the lovely elderly couple sat there everyday. they fed the birds and laughed a children ran passed. everything was simple to them because they didn’t have a care in the world. all they needed was some old bread, the bench and a bright sunny day. the bench became worn. and everyone knew it by their bench. one day the couple went to the park. it was a very cloudy day and few people were out. when they got to where the bench was, it wasn’t there.
I sat on the bench for what seemed like forever. Were they ever coming back? My mind said no. It said stop being a fool, they are never coming to get you. But my heart said yes. My heart said be hopeful. My heart said see the good in people, as you would want them to do for you. But did they ever come back? No.
I sad on the bench, waiting for him to come meet me. I had no idea what he was going to say and it scared the shit out of me. This was the first man I cared about, and his mere words could shake my existence. I grabbed on to the bench, and tried to gain some stability from it’s wooden frame. Stability that should have come from within myself.
i have money
i want money
in a bench, tail is ugly
benchs are white
MONEY MONEY
i want to steal a bench