The rabbit’s head popped out of the ground, searching in all directions for the source of the noise. It ducked down again and burrowed beneath the dirt, lengthening its underground pathways.
snakes live in burrows. I also think of hobbits when i think of burrows. they are generally in dirt. burrow is both a noun and verb. animals burrow. they also live in burrows. Burrows are in dirt usually.
As a squirrel you burrow, you burrow from the dog that’s been chasing you down the street and in and out between the oak tress for the past mile, you burrow to hid the acorns that are poking at the thin skin puffed out in bulbous balloons at your cheeks, you burrow and you burrow all day long to reach a soft and cozy spot to nap in while that same dog patrols the tree he’s sniffed your nest out in. As a squirrel, you burrow. It’s easy enough, it’s life.
Her face is nestled against his shoulder; she’s burrowed into the warmth and safety of his embrace. She’s long since stopped sniffling, and her quiet huffs and jerky movements have gradually melted away into soft and quivering breaths. Her long hair is mussed and tangled, itchy against his neck. Her tears have dried on her face, but his shirt remains wet against his skin where she’d cried on him. It’s terribly uncomfortable, holding her: her weight is pressed into him and she’s surprisingly heavy for someone so slender, but he wouldn’t let go of her for the world.
He feels her breath flutter against his cheek and he smiles.
My home is a burrow. It’s tiny and cozy. It defines the word burrow. I live my life in a burrow. I love it and I hate it. I have mixed feelings to be fair. I want to live in a big city burrow. Then I would be happy. Not in a small city burrow. Aaah, this is messed up.
under the ground, dark and smells like wet earth and rainy days, after its rained for weeks and weeks and you realize that you could have forgotten about the sun.
Undress of your skin
and burrow yourself
underneath
your scars (you
won’t reach your
bones in
time)
then look at me with
pink mousy eyes
and tell
me that I was right
and you were
just
hungry.
Here under the bedcovers, furry beast that I am, snuggled up in a ball, there is a certain cuteness~ like a cheeky chipmunk nestled in its burrow. The fact that I am a 260lb hitman does not easily segue into this tale, unless you consider the vast unseen underground, where predators lurk beyond the cute facade. Sweet dreams!!
Burrow. Sounds like the Spanish word “burro.” There’s this restaurant in Myrtle Beach called Burro Loco and it’s a total tourist trap. It’s Mexican themed, obviously, and the wait is always like 45 minutes, when you could just as well go a mami and papi Mexican restaurant in town.
“Uh, Courf?” Combeferre blinked around the bedroom. He could’ve sworn he’d heard him in here.
“‘M here.”
The comforter shifted a bit. It appeared Courfeyrac had dug himself a little burrow in his covers. Combeferre couldn’t stop a little half grin.
“He’ll come round, Courfeyrac,” he assured him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and tentatively patting one of the lumps in the blanket, hoping it was his head or something and not his ass. “You know damn well that no one can stay angry at you.”
I know some animals burrow. I feel like burrowing many times a day! We need to all face up to the good, bad and ugly and hopefully things will turn out more good than the others.
She burrowed under the covers trying to hide from the world, though she knew it really wouldn’t work. She peeked over the edge of the quilt, and decided to face them. She could do this.
No. No, not again, I’ve written once so I’m cheating now because I read and turned inside out after connecting with the spirit who used the word to exclaim her calmness in the face of death.
is where the weasey’s live it’s also a plave where small animals live or weasels like mr measley’s patronis what would my patronus be? but im supposed to be witing about butrrows burrows is a verb too like prairie dogs who burrow into the ground what
As I stumble along the burrow my mind is on the past
I step into the future with a quickening breath
No sigh for tomorrow
No sign of today
Sings a song like a sorrow
And I’m left in the burrow.
It burrowed into her eye, straight into the pupil. I could have sworn I saw her irises turn slightly red as her eyes bled and she cried in pain. She later told me that she would have rather it had been a needle piercing her eye than the horrific scene that played before her, leaving her blinded and scarred. It crawled in through her eyes and burnt an image in her mind, changing her perspective forever more.
I have yet to read him, though he snuggles and creates holes in the pores of many who feel slack fingered and taught brained it is the stubborness that is so distracting. No, It is the stubborness that forces us to go back on the track.
Some animals burrow as a place to call home, a place of refuge and protection from the elements and protection from predators. Some days I wish I could burrow and hide away for a while and protect myself from this world that becomes increasingly scary with each passing day.
I stopped driving and pulled over to answer a phone call. When I stepped out of the car, I saw a rabbit making a little burrow in the ground. I hung up the call and stared at the brown rabbit for a while, thinking of what it might be like just to hide yourself in a hole, carefree.
Today I stopped driving and pulled over to answer a phone call. When I did, I saw a rabbit making a little burrow in the ground. I hung up the call and stared at the rabbit for a while, thinking of what it might be like just to hide yourself in a hole…
It has been a while, like a plaster cast breaking free I unfurl my brow and edge my fingers over the keyboard. I picture a choir in the background, an ominous call like those in churches as I begin to type. The music swells as I burrow into my work, my head cast forward (the drums start now), my fingers fully immersed into the writer’s spirit (the voices thrum in harsh heaves) and I finish with a period and sit back to marvel the work, reclining as the music fades…
I burrowed deeper into the covers. It had been a long day, and the winter air had chilled me to the bone. For hours I lie there, trying to go to sleep to no avail. Too many thoughts were running marathons in my head, and they wouldn’t go away until I faced them.
The rabbit burrow was deep, so deep that you couldn’t see the bottom of it. Sally inched closer to the hole. The soil around it suddenly gave away and she fell into the black pit with a scream. She disappeared from sight into blackness.
As I burrow my way through the different centuries of human kind, I wonder, where has life gone? Do values even exist? Do morals even matter? Why can’t we all just live our lives in peace and in happiness. Why do we need war and poverty or even money in general. I want life to be simple. Fuck the SATs and fuck college. Let’s all just smoke a joint and relax.
I like to burrow into the ground and hide myself. That way no one can see what I do. What I am. this way i can be myself. No one will judge. No one will know or care. this is the way it used to be. then they all burrowed. Now it isn’t just me.
Burrow means to dig a tunnel especially by a small animal. I think about how people bury their problems almost as if they were a small animal digging a burrow and storing their secrets somewhere they thought was far away.
I like to burrow in my blankets with my cat. Ferrets like to burrow with each other. Ferrets are so cute. I want a ferret and a hermit crab. But mostly a hermit crab. Burrow. BURROW!
Burrowing. I felt like I was always burrowing. Burrowing my head under the covers. Burrowing myself in a book. Hiding from the world. And that was the way I liked it. Hidden. No one could touch me or hurt me as long as I was hidden.
If we wanted freedom we’d have to burrow out of the compound. Like rabbits. Parker loved the idea. He’d been a member of the burrowing society since gradeschool. To actually put his training to use was more than he ever dreamed of doing.
Charlotte wanted to burrow into her mound of sheets and blankets and bury himself under the fabric like she were hiding in a cave. She pulled the miniature flashlight out of her pocket and, remembering the page she had marked, began to read the book that her father had forbidden her to touch the night before. Sure, there were some rather risque things to read, but she was enticed by it. And she stayed up for hours reading the characters kiss again and again.
I’m not sure what burrow means but if that’s thing where people go and stay and all that then it should be dark and a bit chilly where people walk in and out faint music and alcohol in the air something that came out of an old English book… It should be nice yet it was lonely for him because everything reminded him of her… That one sold who’s body he couldn’t resist… Who’s smell he couldn’t forget.. Two years have passed since they were in the burrow te painful and awful years… Who could’ve thought…
Burrow. That’s what I want to do. Burrow back into the Earth, returning myself to it. I world is too bright for me. Too big and too loud. I want to burrow into the quiet, soft Earth, and humbly return the gift that was given to me by it.
I burrowed into the dirt hole, not knowing exactly where I was going.
“Come on,” whispered Eris, a Carbon.
“Why can’t we just go in from the outside? Why do we have to go underground?” I groaned.
“Are you kidding? He’s the Ice King. We’d be frozen in a second.”
The rabbit’s head popped out of the ground, searching in all directions for the source of the noise. It ducked down again and burrowed beneath the dirt, lengthening its underground pathways.
snakes live in burrows. I also think of hobbits when i think of burrows. they are generally in dirt. burrow is both a noun and verb. animals burrow. they also live in burrows. Burrows are in dirt usually.
As a squirrel you burrow, you burrow from the dog that’s been chasing you down the street and in and out between the oak tress for the past mile, you burrow to hid the acorns that are poking at the thin skin puffed out in bulbous balloons at your cheeks, you burrow and you burrow all day long to reach a soft and cozy spot to nap in while that same dog patrols the tree he’s sniffed your nest out in. As a squirrel, you burrow. It’s easy enough, it’s life.
Her face is nestled against his shoulder; she’s burrowed into the warmth and safety of his embrace. She’s long since stopped sniffling, and her quiet huffs and jerky movements have gradually melted away into soft and quivering breaths. Her long hair is mussed and tangled, itchy against his neck. Her tears have dried on her face, but his shirt remains wet against his skin where she’d cried on him. It’s terribly uncomfortable, holding her: her weight is pressed into him and she’s surprisingly heavy for someone so slender, but he wouldn’t let go of her for the world.
He feels her breath flutter against his cheek and he smiles.
My home is a burrow. It’s tiny and cozy. It defines the word burrow. I live my life in a burrow. I love it and I hate it. I have mixed feelings to be fair. I want to live in a big city burrow. Then I would be happy. Not in a small city burrow. Aaah, this is messed up.
calico fur burrows beneath the covers
a soft rumble trying to rouse me
from deepest slumber
“feed me” she meows
as I reach to stroke her side sleepily
under the ground, dark and smells like wet earth and rainy days, after its rained for weeks and weeks and you realize that you could have forgotten about the sun.
into a flesh wound
and dig out that
dark metal, the one
that’s different from the flecks
in the red.
burrow into the dirt
and find that tuber,
the one that’s gold
instead of brown.
Undress of your skin
and burrow yourself
underneath
your scars (you
won’t reach your
bones in
time)
then look at me with
pink mousy eyes
and tell
me that I was right
and you were
just
hungry.
-a.d.r.
Here under the bedcovers, furry beast that I am, snuggled up in a ball, there is a certain cuteness~ like a cheeky chipmunk nestled in its burrow. The fact that I am a 260lb hitman does not easily segue into this tale, unless you consider the vast unseen underground, where predators lurk beyond the cute facade. Sweet dreams!!
Burrow. Sounds like the Spanish word “burro.” There’s this restaurant in Myrtle Beach called Burro Loco and it’s a total tourist trap. It’s Mexican themed, obviously, and the wait is always like 45 minutes, when you could just as well go a mami and papi Mexican restaurant in town.
“Uh, Courf?” Combeferre blinked around the bedroom. He could’ve sworn he’d heard him in here.
“‘M here.”
The comforter shifted a bit. It appeared Courfeyrac had dug himself a little burrow in his covers. Combeferre couldn’t stop a little half grin.
“He’ll come round, Courfeyrac,” he assured him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and tentatively patting one of the lumps in the blanket, hoping it was his head or something and not his ass. “You know damn well that no one can stay angry at you.”
I know some animals burrow. I feel like burrowing many times a day! We need to all face up to the good, bad and ugly and hopefully things will turn out more good than the others.
She burrowed under the covers trying to hide from the world, though she knew it really wouldn’t work. She peeked over the edge of the quilt, and decided to face them. She could do this.
into the duvet
hide from the world
with a book you need to hug
hot black tea
and a fire going
in the woodburner
No. No, not again, I’ve written once so I’m cheating now because I read and turned inside out after connecting with the spirit who used the word to exclaim her calmness in the face of death.
is where the weasey’s live it’s also a plave where small animals live or weasels like mr measley’s patronis what would my patronus be? but im supposed to be witing about butrrows burrows is a verb too like prairie dogs who burrow into the ground what
As I stumble along the burrow my mind is on the past
I step into the future with a quickening breath
No sigh for tomorrow
No sign of today
Sings a song like a sorrow
And I’m left in the burrow.
It burrowed into her eye, straight into the pupil. I could have sworn I saw her irises turn slightly red as her eyes bled and she cried in pain. She later told me that she would have rather it had been a needle piercing her eye than the horrific scene that played before her, leaving her blinded and scarred. It crawled in through her eyes and burnt an image in her mind, changing her perspective forever more.
I have yet to read him, though he snuggles and creates holes in the pores of many who feel slack fingered and taught brained it is the stubborness that is so distracting. No, It is the stubborness that forces us to go back on the track.
Some animals burrow as a place to call home, a place of refuge and protection from the elements and protection from predators. Some days I wish I could burrow and hide away for a while and protect myself from this world that becomes increasingly scary with each passing day.
I stopped driving and pulled over to answer a phone call. When I stepped out of the car, I saw a rabbit making a little burrow in the ground. I hung up the call and stared at the brown rabbit for a while, thinking of what it might be like just to hide yourself in a hole, carefree.
Today I stopped driving and pulled over to answer a phone call. When I did, I saw a rabbit making a little burrow in the ground. I hung up the call and stared at the rabbit for a while, thinking of what it might be like just to hide yourself in a hole…
It has been a while, like a plaster cast breaking free I unfurl my brow and edge my fingers over the keyboard. I picture a choir in the background, an ominous call like those in churches as I begin to type. The music swells as I burrow into my work, my head cast forward (the drums start now), my fingers fully immersed into the writer’s spirit (the voices thrum in harsh heaves) and I finish with a period and sit back to marvel the work, reclining as the music fades…
I burrowed deeper into the covers. It had been a long day, and the winter air had chilled me to the bone. For hours I lie there, trying to go to sleep to no avail. Too many thoughts were running marathons in my head, and they wouldn’t go away until I faced them.
The rabbit burrow was deep, so deep that you couldn’t see the bottom of it. Sally inched closer to the hole. The soil around it suddenly gave away and she fell into the black pit with a scream. She disappeared from sight into blackness.
My burrow is my mind, not my home. I have nothing besides myself and my thoughts. My head is an awful place to be, an awful place to burrow.
As I burrow my way through the different centuries of human kind, I wonder, where has life gone? Do values even exist? Do morals even matter? Why can’t we all just live our lives in peace and in happiness. Why do we need war and poverty or even money in general. I want life to be simple. Fuck the SATs and fuck college. Let’s all just smoke a joint and relax.
I like to burrow into the ground and hide myself. That way no one can see what I do. What I am. this way i can be myself. No one will judge. No one will know or care. this is the way it used to be. then they all burrowed. Now it isn’t just me.
Down to the burrow, we follow the reaper of death.
Burrow means to dig a tunnel especially by a small animal. I think about how people bury their problems almost as if they were a small animal digging a burrow and storing their secrets somewhere they thought was far away.
I like to burrow in my blankets with my cat. Ferrets like to burrow with each other. Ferrets are so cute. I want a ferret and a hermit crab. But mostly a hermit crab. Burrow. BURROW!
Down to the burrow, we follow the rabid rabbit.
“We should just start calling your house The Burrow,” Sparrow teased, flitting by to give Otto’s hand an affectionate squeeze.
Otto laughed. “Yeah, it’s starting to seem that way, isn’t it? I kinda like it.”
Burrowing. I felt like I was always burrowing. Burrowing my head under the covers. Burrowing myself in a book. Hiding from the world. And that was the way I liked it. Hidden. No one could touch me or hurt me as long as I was hidden.
If we wanted freedom we’d have to burrow out of the compound. Like rabbits. Parker loved the idea. He’d been a member of the burrowing society since gradeschool. To actually put his training to use was more than he ever dreamed of doing.
Charlotte wanted to burrow into her mound of sheets and blankets and bury himself under the fabric like she were hiding in a cave. She pulled the miniature flashlight out of her pocket and, remembering the page she had marked, began to read the book that her father had forbidden her to touch the night before. Sure, there were some rather risque things to read, but she was enticed by it. And she stayed up for hours reading the characters kiss again and again.
I’m not sure what burrow means but if that’s thing where people go and stay and all that then it should be dark and a bit chilly where people walk in and out faint music and alcohol in the air something that came out of an old English book… It should be nice yet it was lonely for him because everything reminded him of her… That one sold who’s body he couldn’t resist… Who’s smell he couldn’t forget.. Two years have passed since they were in the burrow te painful and awful years… Who could’ve thought…
Burrow. That’s what I want to do. Burrow back into the Earth, returning myself to it. I world is too bright for me. Too big and too loud. I want to burrow into the quiet, soft Earth, and humbly return the gift that was given to me by it.
I burrowed into the dirt hole, not knowing exactly where I was going.
“Come on,” whispered Eris, a Carbon.
“Why can’t we just go in from the outside? Why do we have to go underground?” I groaned.
“Are you kidding? He’s the Ice King. We’d be frozen in a second.”