I drink from this when I’m thirsty. It saves my life. At times, it’s all I have. At times, I do not want to drink from it. When this happens, I wish I had this much water when I do not. Water is life.
The last drop of water from my canteen. Now the thirst is gonna settle in, just in time for high noon. Since no help has arrived, I must start wandering if I want to survive.
I looked in the canteen to see how much water I had left. Just barely enough to last me until tonight. The moon started to take on features like a face while its body guards howled through the night.
When I was a little girl, we lived in my great-grandmother’s house, in her attic. Even though quite frequently, I would pretend I was a princess in a tower, it was much less romantic than you would think, to live in an attic. It was 1985. We were on welfare and my mother had two jobs. One was at a worker’s cafeteria called The Canteen. The other was at a convenience store called The Kwik Spot.
the canteen was empty, not even a trace of water could be found it it. death was nearer now than ever, it had been present during the journey, pacing on the fringes of the party. but now it was among us, walking with us, sharing out air, it was only a matter of time.
Somehow I knew that he still had my canteen. Because I could see the glint in his eyes, the lies that he so preciously cared for. Inside that tan face and handsome cheek bones there was a selfish heart, and I’m not going to fall for it.
I already wrote about canteen. I usually go on in the mornings, before they get a chance to change to word. But yesterday I went on in the afternoon, and it messed up my schedule.
I picked up the canteen from the side of the stream and saw the blood. Unfortunately, I didn’t know who had been bleeding, or who the canteen belonged to. But I am sure to find out soon. And someday, I’ll be rich, famous and wanted. And so, I picked up the canteen and walked away. The leaves cracked under my hiking boots, a crunching echo spookily sounding like bones breaking.
Dry as a bone, he had walked for days and had the last drop of water from his canteen hours ago, but he couldn’t leave it behind, it represented empty hope as if it might be magically filled when he next out it to his dried, cracking lips.
Camping or an alcholic…Very useful when your thirsty…I work at a liquor store and we sell plastic ones…Its tacky and they remind me of when i was in grade 1 with those plastice containers to hold juice. I always hated them
We danced all night, and with nothing to drink but what was in our canteen, we found a way to make even tepid creek water romantic. I wouldn’t change a thing, but the next time, we’ll take a bottle of wine. In plastic. That should work.
They had been sitting there for over eleven hours at this point and the canteen had long been empty. Slowly, Evan pulled his head off of the ground long enough to notice the slow riling of dust in the south of the desert. The water truck was coming, slowly but surely. fdsafadsffahfhkljhhjkafalljhajhajjajhkaldljkhjkjhkjhkadjhkladfjhklajhkjdshahjdfksjhkladfshjlkadfshhjafdshjadfshjlkadfshjhadjfshjdafshjlkadsfjhlkadfsjhjdhfsjlhkdafjlhdfsahjlfdsalhjdfashjhjdsahjdsfhjfsdhjlksadflhjadfshjhjdhdsahjkfdlhjahjflhajdlfshj
All night, I have my water bottle by my side but I rarely take a drink. I’m not sure why, I think about but I rarely do it. It like how I will have to pee and I will just lay there. Is it laziness? Who knows.
These words are getting harder to say. The sentences just wont string together they way I hope they will. I feel as though I am running out. I’m lost in the desert with only a sip of water left in my shiny red canteen. This is how it is all going to end. Just me, alone. Hoping that I could turn back and find where I was. Things would be so much better. Instead I’m going to wander alone until I die. A solitary speck of life in this expansive sea of sand. With each passing hour I can feel myself fade away under the sun, as does the color from clothing and the sound of my voice. I am being taken by the desert in more ways then one. When they find me…if they can.. The only clue that I was ever here will be the hint of red from my faded, empty canteen. An empty voice, lost to the open air.
the canteen had become a serious problem on their trip to the west. It was always empty or it weighed a ton. With 15 people drinking from the canteen, it was usually emptied of their water. It was a serious issues, because of the drought of the season. Water was scarce to begin with and people really wanted to travel?!
There was only one canteen left. One canteen, and only three people. One canteen that barely has any water left. Which one of us will be violent enough to actually grab the canteen. Which one of us will die? And which one of us will win?
“This is the most boring word ever,” thought the water as it flowed out of the canister that smelled of copper and river minerals and over the keyboard. “I’ve lived in a canteen for months and there isn’t much you can say about ’em that’s interesting.”
I love going on adventures in the wilderness and bringing along my canteen. Hearing the clinking sound against my backpack always sets the mood for a great hike. I really want a cool old fashioned canteen. The ones that the mountain men had in the 1800’s!
is the thing that you bring when you need something to be a container for drink. and you forgot it. why? that’s not cool. especially up high, up here where the water is necessary for life.
He stood underneath the hot blazing desert sun, drenched in sweat. His team was working furiously to uncover the artifact, but they couldn’t seem to reach it. He took a swig from his canteen, wiping the sweat from his brow, and walked
A canteen at a summer youth camp was a scary place because I was there all alone that year. I remember the drink machine, because from it I extracted my very first Dr. Pepper.
The sun beat down heavily on them, it was nearing 100* outside. He wondered when they had run out of water and how long they had left. It seemed like years watching the vultures circle around them. It would have been a beautiful day if they weren’t lost in the desert. Stuck in valley where death followed them. He laughed at the name, it was called Paradise.
I couldn’t sleep. It was too hot. The blanket was tangled in my legs and wrapped around my throat. I Wrestled it to the floor which only made me hotter. the canteen was under the bed. i must have knocked it here in my thrashing. I was sweating now from my fight with the blanket. I was naked and put on my boot for the snakes. I headed for the well pump. It was hot.
Its a great thing to have in the desert or when you are out on a hike. I also notice its two words that mean something completely different apart. It holds liquids and is comes in all shapes and sizes. I prefer jugs and water bottles.
exploring the wilderness, i take a sip of my canteen. i feel like a kid again, running around the camp grounds. Looking for my best friend to go on a hike with. The canteen is like my compaignon. travelling through the sahara, spotting a llama.
a device used to drink from. often refered back to war times where soldiers would carry them for water. when i think of canteen i think of the desert. you should always carry on when camping.
We sat in the corner, looking out into the bustle of the canteen. With drinks in hand, we peered over to the table of gamblers. All of them were deep in meditation. The numbers in their hands a mathematical equation to turn lead into gold.
when i was younger we had a canteen at school. me and my friends used to sit in the corner in our breaks, and have a lot of fun. the walls were brightly coloured and no fried food was served. one day somebody brought a soundsystem, and played some music. graduation was held in that canteen. sometimes I felt lonely there.
Everybody loves canteens. They’re just sooo helpful. Especially when one is riding through the dessert. They hold water, whiskey….Practically anything in liquid form!
Can teens really decide who they are? Hormones racing, social pressures climbing, futures looming. How can they know? How can they be sure when even their own brains and bodies are unsure about themselves?
It had a hole, large enough to produce a clock like rhythm to the dripping. I had 50 miles yet to walk across a barren and bone dry landscaped. I held the canteen like a departing lover.
Today, I took out my canteen. Really took it out. It always hung around my neck but only as a fashion statement. Never for its real purpose. Today, I opened the canteen and looked inside of it. Really looked at it. With my right eye only. Then my left. Then both.
I drink from this when I’m thirsty. It saves my life. At times, it’s all I have. At times, I do not want to drink from it. When this happens, I wish I had this much water when I do not. Water is life.
drink
pressing the canteen to her parched lips, she soothed her arid throat, yet it was still silent with the dry bewitchment of terror.
The last drop of water from my canteen. Now the thirst is gonna settle in, just in time for high noon. Since no help has arrived, I must start wandering if I want to survive.
I looked in the canteen to see how much water I had left. Just barely enough to last me until tonight. The moon started to take on features like a face while its body guards howled through the night.
When I was a little girl, we lived in my great-grandmother’s house, in her attic. Even though quite frequently, I would pretend I was a princess in a tower, it was much less romantic than you would think, to live in an attic. It was 1985. We were on welfare and my mother had two jobs. One was at a worker’s cafeteria called The Canteen. The other was at a convenience store called The Kwik Spot.
the canteen was empty, not even a trace of water could be found it it. death was nearer now than ever, it had been present during the journey, pacing on the fringes of the party. but now it was among us, walking with us, sharing out air, it was only a matter of time.
a place where you eat. It’s like a bouffet. Yummy I would like to eat now. It can be in a hotel or somewhere else.
food
dinner lady
chips
vinegar
dirty
fast
cheap
baked beans
Somehow I knew that he still had my canteen. Because I could see the glint in his eyes, the lies that he so preciously cared for. Inside that tan face and handsome cheek bones there was a selfish heart, and I’m not going to fall for it.
I already wrote about canteen. I usually go on in the mornings, before they get a chance to change to word. But yesterday I went on in the afternoon, and it messed up my schedule.
I picked up the canteen from the side of the stream and saw the blood. Unfortunately, I didn’t know who had been bleeding, or who the canteen belonged to. But I am sure to find out soon. And someday, I’ll be rich, famous and wanted. And so, I picked up the canteen and walked away. The leaves cracked under my hiking boots, a crunching echo spookily sounding like bones breaking.
We just had this word the other day, and I didn’t love it then. Canteen shmanteen panteen pro-v.
Dry as a bone, he had walked for days and had the last drop of water from his canteen hours ago, but he couldn’t leave it behind, it represented empty hope as if it might be magically filled when he next out it to his dried, cracking lips.
Camping or an alcholic…Very useful when your thirsty…I work at a liquor store and we sell plastic ones…Its tacky and they remind me of when i was in grade 1 with those plastice containers to hold juice. I always hated them
We danced all night, and with nothing to drink but what was in our canteen, we found a way to make even tepid creek water romantic. I wouldn’t change a thing, but the next time, we’ll take a bottle of wine. In plastic. That should work.
They had been sitting there for over eleven hours at this point and the canteen had long been empty. Slowly, Evan pulled his head off of the ground long enough to notice the slow riling of dust in the south of the desert. The water truck was coming, slowly but surely. fdsafadsffahfhkljhhjkafalljhajhajjajhkaldljkhjkjhkjhkadjhkladfjhklajhkjdshahjdfksjhkladfshjlkadfshhjafdshjadfshjlkadfshjhadjfshjdafshjlkadsfjhlkadfsjhjdhfsjlhkdafjlhdfsahjlfdsalhjdfashjhjdsahjdsfhjfsdhjlksadflhjadfshjhjdhdsahjkfdlhjahjflhajdlfshj
All night, I have my water bottle by my side but I rarely take a drink. I’m not sure why, I think about but I rarely do it. It like how I will have to pee and I will just lay there. Is it laziness? Who knows.
These words are getting harder to say. The sentences just wont string together they way I hope they will. I feel as though I am running out. I’m lost in the desert with only a sip of water left in my shiny red canteen. This is how it is all going to end. Just me, alone. Hoping that I could turn back and find where I was. Things would be so much better. Instead I’m going to wander alone until I die. A solitary speck of life in this expansive sea of sand. With each passing hour I can feel myself fade away under the sun, as does the color from clothing and the sound of my voice. I am being taken by the desert in more ways then one. When they find me…if they can.. The only clue that I was ever here will be the hint of red from my faded, empty canteen. An empty voice, lost to the open air.
the canteen had become a serious problem on their trip to the west. It was always empty or it weighed a ton. With 15 people drinking from the canteen, it was usually emptied of their water. It was a serious issues, because of the drought of the season. Water was scarce to begin with and people really wanted to travel?!
There was only one canteen left. One canteen, and only three people. One canteen that barely has any water left. Which one of us will be violent enough to actually grab the canteen. Which one of us will die? And which one of us will win?
“This is the most boring word ever,” thought the water as it flowed out of the canister that smelled of copper and river minerals and over the keyboard. “I’ve lived in a canteen for months and there isn’t much you can say about ’em that’s interesting.”
I love going on adventures in the wilderness and bringing along my canteen. Hearing the clinking sound against my backpack always sets the mood for a great hike. I really want a cool old fashioned canteen. The ones that the mountain men had in the 1800’s!
is the thing that you bring when you need something to be a container for drink. and you forgot it. why? that’s not cool. especially up high, up here where the water is necessary for life.
a canteen is useful on hiking trips to carry the water you need
the military canteen is where persons can buy foods at a discount
is a green machine.
take it caving.
breathe.
small swarms of tiny spider-cave-bugs.
gulp.
breath.
breathe.
the plastic hits the rocks and dictates how far we’ve
come.
Breathe.
birth canal.
OUT.
He stood underneath the hot blazing desert sun, drenched in sweat. His team was working furiously to uncover the artifact, but they couldn’t seem to reach it. He took a swig from his canteen, wiping the sweat from his brow, and walked
A canteen at a summer youth camp was a scary place because I was there all alone that year. I remember the drink machine, because from it I extracted my very first Dr. Pepper.
The sun beat down heavily on them, it was nearing 100* outside. He wondered when they had run out of water and how long they had left. It seemed like years watching the vultures circle around them. It would have been a beautiful day if they weren’t lost in the desert. Stuck in valley where death followed them. He laughed at the name, it was called Paradise.
I couldn’t sleep. It was too hot. The blanket was tangled in my legs and wrapped around my throat. I Wrestled it to the floor which only made me hotter. the canteen was under the bed. i must have knocked it here in my thrashing. I was sweating now from my fight with the blanket. I was naked and put on my boot for the snakes. I headed for the well pump. It was hot.
Its a great thing to have in the desert or when you are out on a hike. I also notice its two words that mean something completely different apart. It holds liquids and is comes in all shapes and sizes. I prefer jugs and water bottles.
exploring the wilderness, i take a sip of my canteen. i feel like a kid again, running around the camp grounds. Looking for my best friend to go on a hike with. The canteen is like my compaignon. travelling through the sahara, spotting a llama.
a device used to drink from. often refered back to war times where soldiers would carry them for water. when i think of canteen i think of the desert. you should always carry on when camping.
thirst
flask for the outdoors
quench
aluminum
to be shared among hiking partners
a rugged container
We sat in the corner, looking out into the bustle of the canteen. With drinks in hand, we peered over to the table of gamblers. All of them were deep in meditation. The numbers in their hands a mathematical equation to turn lead into gold.
when i was younger we had a canteen at school. me and my friends used to sit in the corner in our breaks, and have a lot of fun. the walls were brightly coloured and no fried food was served. one day somebody brought a soundsystem, and played some music. graduation was held in that canteen. sometimes I felt lonely there.
Everybody loves canteens. They’re just sooo helpful. Especially when one is riding through the dessert. They hold water, whiskey….Practically anything in liquid form!
Can teens really decide who they are? Hormones racing, social pressures climbing, futures looming. How can they know? How can they be sure when even their own brains and bodies are unsure about themselves?
It had a hole, large enough to produce a clock like rhythm to the dripping. I had 50 miles yet to walk across a barren and bone dry landscaped. I held the canteen like a departing lover.
Today, I took out my canteen. Really took it out. It always hung around my neck but only as a fashion statement. Never for its real purpose. Today, I opened the canteen and looked inside of it. Really looked at it. With my right eye only. Then my left. Then both.