The branches reach up and over, encasing the trodden dirt path in secrecy. Nettles and blades of grass reach over from where the dirt end, beckoning hello and reaching out to tickle you as you run by.
as i stare at the branches on the trees outside, i realize that they’re just a part of the tree. and in those parts are smaller parts and smaller parts. and i come to see it as a mechanism. little parts made up of littler parts make the tree what it is. but, i catch myself. it’s more than little parts. instead, i look at the big part. i appreciate the life and the beauty of the tree as a whole.
Lately there’s been something under my skin, itching for a way to break through to the surface. Something red and raw and wriggling with life. I can’t always help when it raises its ugly head from where it hides within my rib cage. It came out the other day in a boutique changing room, staring back at me in the mirror as I tried to make hopelessly small clothes fit on my large, awkward body. Some nights, after certain parts of my mind are too exhausted to care, I catch it admiring the branches of blue veins on the insides of my wrists. It whispers me to sleep on my worst days. On my better days, it lurks where it knows I can never reach it. And when it inevitably does make a reappearance, slithering out of its dark hiding place, I find that I am starting to fight it less and less.
The tree branched out and formed a canopy over the broken park bench sitting at it’s base. It’s arms swung wide, enveloping the bushes surrounding it with it’s shady embrace. The branches were thick, strong enough to comfort a human body during a mid afternoon nap.
there is nothing like the feeling of a warm summer day with a slight breeze blowing as you lie under a giant tree, gazing up at the pattern of leaves on the branches with the sunlight attempting to break through. it is as if the branches covered in leaves provide a protection from the burning rays of the sun
The branches didn’t waver as I used them to pull myself up the leafy tree. Finally, I heaved myself up onto the platform you were sitting on, waiting for me. As I watched the sunset you took a penknife from your jeans pocket and began carving our initals into one of the brances. I was so in love with you that day.
the branches of the weeping willow sagged like the tears for which it was named. I wished I could cry like that, just cry and cry and still have such a beautiful name, “the weeping willow”, but not me, i would by sobbing samantha, or crying cathy, i would just be judged. That’s why I like it here, I sit beneath the willow on the bank of the river, my personal space.
Rather than sitting crumpled at the crotch of the fig tree, as she had for the past four years, she was now vigorously climbing the left most branch. It was a straggler than was unseen just six months ago but, upon discovery, it was clear to her that she must climb. Her inner thighs scraped as she crawled against the bark, but she paid no mind. Her eyes were focused solely on the peach, full of promise, at the far end of the branch.
I’ve been falling lately. but I woke up today and knew I could pull myself up. I can climb these thin branches, dance on them, sing and wobble and do the things I’ve always wanted. There isn’t much out there for me so I have to make this right. And I’ll make these branches hold me for as long as possible until I find more stable ground. Seriously, I really love my chaotic, hectic forever plummeting life!
The wind knocks through the braches of her limbs
And tangles the leaves of her Autumn hair.
She is a willow bending in the wind, then
An oak standing firm and strong and she
Is a girl lovely as a plum tree in bloom.
The symbiotic android’s heart branches outward into three black, separate limbs. The first of the limbs carries the oxygen of good will. The second, hydrochloric carelessness. The third, a medicinal dose of happy. In the core of the android’s heart is a clear fluid, which throbs and pulses with the general human emotions of love and hatred. It is a simple tree, nothing else.
The branches of the tree hung low to the ground creating a canopy of coverage she liked to hide in every spring. The weeping willow was her favorite tree to sit beneath and lose herself in reading.
It was dark. I was walking down the forest when I heard a loud noise. So, I ran quickly and hid behind some branches. It was a squirrel! Can you believe it?
The branches were firm, held in his grasp, John pulled himself to the very top. Feeling the bark scrap against his knee, the smell of moss entering his nostrils.
Branches, I watch through them as I see you pass by. I can’t help but smile to myself as you look at the sky. You look so beautiful in that one, singular moment. I snap a quick picture, but you hear the flash. I run back to the pension, but you run after me and you grab me. We’re stuck at each other’s odds now.
I don’t know. branches are part of trees, i guess. I’ve always been scared that there would be spiders or caterpillars hanging from the leaves of the branches and then land on me! i do tend to stay away from trees a lot even though I have an obssession with drawing them
whats with these words anyway? this word sucks, fuck branches. ive never even seen a tree in my life, let alone a branch. what am i supposed to believe in leaves too? get the fuck outta here, trees are just a liberal, hippy, environmentalist ploy to get us americans to donate out hard earned cash to there left wing causes!
Through and through
the trees have grown,
from the roots of life,
and here becomes the living being of the branch of securities,
It branches off from your comfort zone of life,
and here it comes again
where you can feel alive again,
and you know right where you belong;
from what only went from root to branch.
stretching up to the pale March sun. a few hopeful buds have appeared early, coiled close to the bark huddled away from the sudden burst of frosty wind.
There are branches above you and sand beneath your feet. You’re headed somewhere and you have no idea exactly what’s going to happen. There’s panic in your heart and god, the sun, the sun, where is the sun? There’s nothing more to think about because freedom is on the tip of your tongue and there is wind beneath your metaphorical wings.
There are branches in the tree. There are leaves on it. Over the leaves. Bird sings tweet tweet. A person came out of the idea tweeter by this one branch.
And my arms like branches, thin and sensitive. Would no doubt break if I tried to carry the weight of my shame. But I was drunk, and rich and anonymous so I didn’t care. It would be some time before I cared, and even then, this stage didn’t last long.
Branches, don’t break. I rely on you. My life is in your brown, twisted arms. Let me play for a little longer before I must come down. Dont let me fall. I don’t want to go back to them. I don’t want to leave these leaves. Your presence soothes me. The sound of your ruffled leaves in the wind, your tall countenance, and the rough bark. When I’m above everything else, in your arms, everything dissapears. Branches, please don’t let me go. I never want to leave your fresh embrace.
The climb towards the sky. Branches covered in leaves. Leaves that are turning pink, red and orange. They are loosing the lush green to the grasp of winter. Winter is coming. Animals are disappearing to their hideaways. It will be again. The time of song, birds chirping frogs croaking. It will come back. The leaves will be green again. If we last the winter.
The branches whipped my face as I ran. I knew that the fatal swing should have hurt horribly, but I felt no pain. I only felt the adrenaline of what had just happened in my high school gym for prom.
The branches reach up and over, encasing the trodden dirt path in secrecy. Nettles and blades of grass reach over from where the dirt end, beckoning hello and reaching out to tickle you as you run by.
By Jess URL on 04.07.2012
Bitches love branches
By Andrew on 04.07.2012
as i stare at the branches on the trees outside, i realize that they’re just a part of the tree. and in those parts are smaller parts and smaller parts. and i come to see it as a mechanism. little parts made up of littler parts make the tree what it is. but, i catch myself. it’s more than little parts. instead, i look at the big part. i appreciate the life and the beauty of the tree as a whole.
By Quinn URL on 04.07.2012
Lately there’s been something under my skin, itching for a way to break through to the surface. Something red and raw and wriggling with life. I can’t always help when it raises its ugly head from where it hides within my rib cage. It came out the other day in a boutique changing room, staring back at me in the mirror as I tried to make hopelessly small clothes fit on my large, awkward body. Some nights, after certain parts of my mind are too exhausted to care, I catch it admiring the branches of blue veins on the insides of my wrists. It whispers me to sleep on my worst days. On my better days, it lurks where it knows I can never reach it. And when it inevitably does make a reappearance, slithering out of its dark hiding place, I find that I am starting to fight it less and less.
By WearyWater URL on 04.07.2012
The tree branched out and formed a canopy over the broken park bench sitting at it’s base. It’s arms swung wide, enveloping the bushes surrounding it with it’s shady embrace. The branches were thick, strong enough to comfort a human body during a mid afternoon nap.
By barefootink URL on 04.07.2012
I ate a branch. it was not good. then i ate two branches and it was good. BRANCHES
By JASMINE on 04.07.2012
there is nothing like the feeling of a warm summer day with a slight breeze blowing as you lie under a giant tree, gazing up at the pattern of leaves on the branches with the sunlight attempting to break through. it is as if the branches covered in leaves provide a protection from the burning rays of the sun
By Kate on 04.07.2012
The branches didn’t waver as I used them to pull myself up the leafy tree. Finally, I heaved myself up onto the platform you were sitting on, waiting for me. As I watched the sunset you took a penknife from your jeans pocket and began carving our initals into one of the brances. I was so in love with you that day.
By april93 URL on 04.07.2012
the branches of the weeping willow sagged like the tears for which it was named. I wished I could cry like that, just cry and cry and still have such a beautiful name, “the weeping willow”, but not me, i would by sobbing samantha, or crying cathy, i would just be judged. That’s why I like it here, I sit beneath the willow on the bank of the river, my personal space.
By Lena Goren on 04.07.2012
sad old branches sticking to each other sticking to the flat hairs on my leg wet dog
By Avvi on 04.07.2012
Never will we share a branch on your diseased family tree.
By Apples on 04.07.2012
Climb, climb, climb. Higher, higher, higher. Cut all the branches so he can’t follow after.
By To Apples on 04.07.2012
Rather than sitting crumpled at the crotch of the fig tree, as she had for the past four years, she was now vigorously climbing the left most branch. It was a straggler than was unseen just six months ago but, upon discovery, it was clear to her that she must climb. Her inner thighs scraped as she crawled against the bark, but she paid no mind. Her eyes were focused solely on the peach, full of promise, at the far end of the branch.
By Gloria S URL on 04.07.2012
there were too meny branches but i opted for mechanical………………selected an unfit branch
By ROyal Mech on 04.07.2012
families, flowers, fruit, harvest, peace, achievement, reaching to the stars….
By Nell on 04.07.2012
“Tobias how many branches of government are there?”
“In what country?”
“First one that comes to mind.”
“Three.”
“America?”
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
By Julia A. URL on 04.07.2012
I lay under the tree branches on the grass and let the summer breeze cool be down after a hot ball game. Summer has come early to Texas.
By JeanElaine on 04.07.2012
I’ve been falling lately. but I woke up today and knew I could pull myself up. I can climb these thin branches, dance on them, sing and wobble and do the things I’ve always wanted. There isn’t much out there for me so I have to make this right. And I’ll make these branches hold me for as long as possible until I find more stable ground. Seriously, I really love my chaotic, hectic forever plummeting life!
By Treys URL on 04.07.2012
The wind knocks through the braches of her limbs
And tangles the leaves of her Autumn hair.
She is a willow bending in the wind, then
An oak standing firm and strong and she
Is a girl lovely as a plum tree in bloom.
By Ladywolfrider URL on 04.07.2012
The symbiotic android’s heart branches outward into three black, separate limbs. The first of the limbs carries the oxygen of good will. The second, hydrochloric carelessness. The third, a medicinal dose of happy. In the core of the android’s heart is a clear fluid, which throbs and pulses with the general human emotions of love and hatred. It is a simple tree, nothing else.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 04.07.2012
The branches of the tree hung low to the ground creating a canopy of coverage she liked to hide in every spring. The weeping willow was her favorite tree to sit beneath and lose herself in reading.
By Sheila Good URL on 04.07.2012
It was dark. I was walking down the forest when I heard a loud noise. So, I ran quickly and hid behind some branches. It was a squirrel! Can you believe it?
By virgip URL on 04.07.2012
The branches were firm, held in his grasp, John pulled himself to the very top. Feeling the bark scrap against his knee, the smell of moss entering his nostrils.
By AfterMath on 04.07.2012
Branches, I watch through them as I see you pass by. I can’t help but smile to myself as you look at the sky. You look so beautiful in that one, singular moment. I snap a quick picture, but you hear the flash. I run back to the pension, but you run after me and you grab me. We’re stuck at each other’s odds now.
By Victoria URL on 04.07.2012
oh, so long, corked and spooky… yet, the flowery branches do not scare the liitle innocent sprout gazing it from below.
By Goncalo on 04.07.2012
Bryan was manager over 12 branches of National Citizans Bank. He’s really raking in the cash.
By vanhaydu URL on 04.07.2012
I don’t know. branches are part of trees, i guess. I’ve always been scared that there would be spiders or caterpillars hanging from the leaves of the branches and then land on me! i do tend to stay away from trees a lot even though I have an obssession with drawing them
By Linda on 04.07.2012
whats with these words anyway? this word sucks, fuck branches. ive never even seen a tree in my life, let alone a branch. what am i supposed to believe in leaves too? get the fuck outta here, trees are just a liberal, hippy, environmentalist ploy to get us americans to donate out hard earned cash to there left wing causes!
By jamesbitticks URL on 04.07.2012
Through and through
the trees have grown,
from the roots of life,
and here becomes the living being of the branch of securities,
It branches off from your comfort zone of life,
and here it comes again
where you can feel alive again,
and you know right where you belong;
from what only went from root to branch.
By Alexa Noelle URL on 04.07.2012
stretching up to the pale March sun. a few hopeful buds have appeared early, coiled close to the bark huddled away from the sudden burst of frosty wind.
By Anais on 04.07.2012
You hold out your hands
And they reach out,
Create shade, cascade in a blossoming cloud
You are my branches.
By Midge URL on 04.07.2012
There are branches above you and sand beneath your feet. You’re headed somewhere and you have no idea exactly what’s going to happen. There’s panic in your heart and god, the sun, the sun, where is the sun? There’s nothing more to think about because freedom is on the tip of your tongue and there is wind beneath your metaphorical wings.
By shey on 04.07.2012
There are branches in the tree. There are leaves on it. Over the leaves. Bird sings tweet tweet. A person came out of the idea tweeter by this one branch.
By YoungGee Jeong URL on 04.07.2012
I spread my branches too soon
Or it is that you pruned me too soon?
I had just blossomed
Given the world a view of the ripe red in me
A sweet scent of honey from me
A soft touch of the petals
i spread my branches too soon
I left you too soon
I was reaching for the moon
I am on the other side now
By mpenzimtenzi URL on 04.07.2012
And my arms like branches, thin and sensitive. Would no doubt break if I tried to carry the weight of my shame. But I was drunk, and rich and anonymous so I didn’t care. It would be some time before I cared, and even then, this stage didn’t last long.
By Ruben URL on 04.07.2012
Leaves slowly fall with each passing breath of wind. Colors brighten then drift to dull brown. Soon my father will hand me the rake :(
By funwithlex URL on 04.07.2012
Branches, don’t break. I rely on you. My life is in your brown, twisted arms. Let me play for a little longer before I must come down. Dont let me fall. I don’t want to go back to them. I don’t want to leave these leaves. Your presence soothes me. The sound of your ruffled leaves in the wind, your tall countenance, and the rough bark. When I’m above everything else, in your arms, everything dissapears. Branches, please don’t let me go. I never want to leave your fresh embrace.
By Emry Wafre on 04.07.2012
The climb towards the sky. Branches covered in leaves. Leaves that are turning pink, red and orange. They are loosing the lush green to the grasp of winter. Winter is coming. Animals are disappearing to their hideaways. It will be again. The time of song, birds chirping frogs croaking. It will come back. The leaves will be green again. If we last the winter.
By Alex on 04.07.2012
The branches whipped my face as I ran. I knew that the fatal swing should have hurt horribly, but I felt no pain. I only felt the adrenaline of what had just happened in my high school gym for prom.
By kc URL on 04.07.2012
The branches to their family tree had only just begun spreading, but that was when Victoria went missing. Then Mark. Then Lucas.
And they were the adopted ones.
By Jessica Bang URL on 04.07.2012