my dad had a canteen with a bright green lid that had “been with him to the tops of mountains.” Apparently he wasn’t kidding, this little container had been his as he backpacked across the western US. The small piece of plastic had seen more of him then I had, now its my turn to give other things meaning simply by living and going after the path right in front of me.
“I…want to believe you. I want to think everything will be okay.” “You can,” he smiled. “Because it will.” I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the idea of everything playing out well. As if filled to the brim with tears, my eyes sprung a leak, and he instantly grabbed me up in a comforting hug. “Believe me,” his voice was muffled by my hair, but it was full of sentiment.
“Pass the canteen,” he whispered his lips dried and throat parched.
“Won’t help man,” the other said turning it over, not a drop of water was left.
The first man turned over and stared at the sun, it seemed like weeks had gone by in the hours they had slept there.
I will wear it strapped to my back this summer, sipping out of a thin tube while I hike all through mountains and desert. I’m like a camel, my water traveling with me wherever I go. I’m going adventuring this summer in the holy land with all of my friends and it’s going to be so hot! But it’s not all desert there – there’s a lot of green. There’s also lakes and the ocean and the sea and even a goat farm I went to once.
Canteen is a container which carries water. I got to know this when i was watching the movie ‘Holes.’ Canteen is also a cafe, generally in schools and colleges where food is served.
The two teenagers sat out in the forest. They didn’t mean to be there; they should have been to school. However, the sweet, clear liquid in their canteen sustained them; they weren’t really worried. In fact, they weren’t really anything. They just were.
I used canteens to carry water to school every day. It was a contest, among my friends. To see who could have the coldest water. On a hot summer day, our water would do little to help our thirst.
Step one: When traversing across an arid desert, always bring several canteens of water. That way, if you are somehow attacked by a giant, mutant scorpion, only a few of said canteens will be punctured. What an efficient shield!
It was a hot day in the dessert. We had been wondering for days. Lost, looking for a new home. We had 3 canteens. Barley any water was left. My mouth was parched. Should I take the last sip?
I never had a canteen when I was little. I guess I didn’t have one as an adult either. The boy across the street had one. I thought that was so cool. It didn’t matter if I was thirsty or not. It was cool to have. He was in the cub scouts. That wolf patch was cool.
I glanced down at my canteen; almost empty. I wanted to take a drink, but how long would I have to go without water then? My throat was dry. I longed for the water truck to come. Suddenly, the urge became too great. I held the canteen to my dry and cracked lips, and began to take a long drink.
I could drink a whole canteen full of ice cold lemon aid. I like it with just a little bit of pulp. Not a lot though. Too much pulp makes me gag. And I would hate to throw up in my canteen. Wouldn’t you?
Canteen. Dammit, I got this word before. A canteen is a place where people get served food, often tacky decor with plastic chairs and tables, and an angry looking woman behing the counter with a huge mole on her nose. She appears to have a beard, which is strange for a woman. Yum.
Heart racing, canteen beating against his chest as he bolted through the forest. How had it come to this, he thought. But, surely, surely there must be something better on the other side of the forest. Some sort of refuge, safehaven perhaps, but with his luck probably not. Chances are it would be just another broken dream fueled by anger and sadness. Though there was no other choice, the only way he could go was forward, no looking back now.
he drank from the canteen and spit out the contents. “what am I drinking?”, he said to himself. It tasted like horse…well…you get the idea. he looked around and saw that he had awoken in the middle of a desert. There was not a clear path, so he began walking in the direction of the sun.
While walking through the desert one hot afternoon I came upon a clearing in the road and a sign pointing west to Death Valley. It was one of those scorching days when the sun’s powers of distortion are in full effect. Feeling parched, I reached for my canteen and found a pistol in its place. That pistol would later come in handy.
Jeff’s eyes opened a crack. The sun beat down on him and he had to shut them again. He rolled over on to his stomach and re-opened them. He could see the cracked ground beneath him. Dirt covered his bloody hands. He tried to call for someone, anyone, but his throat was too dry to let any sound escape. He had been lost in this canyon for four days now. He grabbed his canteen and tried to coax some hidden drops from it, but just as the morning before, there were no drops to drink. He slowly fumbled his way to his feet, and looked to the ridge of the canyon. He scanned all around him. Nothing. No water, and no people. He fell to his knees and cried into his hands. Suddenly he was in shadow, and he felt a warm touch on his shoulder. He smiled and closed his eyes, as the spirit took him home.
There was a canteen in the institution where my brother lived for a long time. It was a sad and disheartening place. The grounds were sterile, the buildings were barren, and the atmosphere was hard to bear. But in the canteen, there was this plant that came from one little pot and wound all around the ceiling and around the whole room. It made me feel like there was life, and some kind of goodness was possible.
wen i took a trip to the desert i brought along my trusty canteen, it saved m y life. so when i returned home i married it, we have three children and i couldnt be any happier. my canteen is the love of my life
A limitless place, echoing floor tiles and dreay seats. Many men all crammed in together, not talking, just sitting, staring ahead at whatever existence they’ve conjured for themselves. A quiet place. A dead place. No changes, no life.
Her parched lips touched the warm metal spout of the canteen and she signed. There wasn’t even a drop of water that could be scrounged to ease her thirst.
I wandered through the desert with my empty canteen around my neck. Sweat dripped from my nose. It ran into my eyes, stinging terribly.
Water. I needed water. Where could I find water? Would I thirst to death?
It was strange to be in the company of people all under the age of twenty who all addressed each other as Mr. Bryant, Miss Poole, Miss Truberson- it was the protocol of the department store where we all worked, temporary hired help for the toy department at Christmas. Mr. Williams was Lego and Meccano and such and a mod in his time off, Miss Truberson was home from Sheffield where she was studying French and Spanish, she was delighted to have dolls; I was teddy bears, I still have an expert eye and felt a nervous pang whether each one sold was going to a loving home. We ate in the staff canteen, Mr Brown who I knew as PB in civvy street languished in electrics but shone at the disco, Mr, McCarron was perfume and loved it, he shared a bedsit with my brother, he killed himself with an overdose of french blues, we had so much in common
The canteen was empty and the rum that was in it was soaked into my shirt. “Take it off,” she said, and I did. She twisted it and the rum dripped into her mouth. “I think some soaked into my pants, too,” I said.
Thirst slaked, I gazed up to the peak of the mountain. The cool breeze rifled stray hairs that had fallen out of my ponytail. I wasn’t sure what I would find atop this peak, but I knew the view had to be worth it. I don’t like to do anything that isn’t worth it. Dropping the canteen on it’s loop back to my hip, I took my equipment, and prepared for the last stretch.
Reminds me of camp. Where’d I’d get everything I’d need, if I ever did. What is it really? The thing that holds water? Replenishes you? Rehydrates you? Yum.
That reminds me of that show mash although I’m not entirely sure why maybe because they drank out of canteens or probably because the whole show was canteen color. As if a color could be called canteen. I don’t know it also reminds me of camels. not the cigarettes.
The canteen was empty and the rum that was in it was soaked into my shirt. “Take it off,” she said, and I did. She twisted it and the rum dripped into her mouth. “I think some soaked into my pants, too,” I said.
holds water, you drink out of it. green, army green. hard, circular, my grandpa would definitely wrap duct tape around it. lips, hiking and the woods are it’s friend. it will keep you alive! umm, metal? makes a clacking noise when it hits something. there’s nothing really to it, it’s simple but it can be very important in certain situations.
my dad had a canteen with a bright green lid that had “been with him to the tops of mountains.” Apparently he wasn’t kidding, this little container had been his as he backpacked across the western US. The small piece of plastic had seen more of him then I had, now its my turn to give other things meaning simply by living and going after the path right in front of me.
The fizzy, strong taste of beer startled me as I put the mouth of the canteen to mine.
“So that’s what beer tastes like.” I said to myself.
“I…want to believe you. I want to think everything will be okay.” “You can,” he smiled. “Because it will.” I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the idea of everything playing out well. As if filled to the brim with tears, my eyes sprung a leak, and he instantly grabbed me up in a comforting hug. “Believe me,” his voice was muffled by my hair, but it was full of sentiment.
“Pass the canteen,” he whispered his lips dried and throat parched.
“Won’t help man,” the other said turning it over, not a drop of water was left.
The first man turned over and stared at the sun, it seemed like weeks had gone by in the hours they had slept there.
I will wear it strapped to my back this summer, sipping out of a thin tube while I hike all through mountains and desert. I’m like a camel, my water traveling with me wherever I go. I’m going adventuring this summer in the holy land with all of my friends and it’s going to be so hot! But it’s not all desert there – there’s a lot of green. There’s also lakes and the ocean and the sea and even a goat farm I went to once.
Canteen is a container which carries water. I got to know this when i was watching the movie ‘Holes.’ Canteen is also a cafe, generally in schools and colleges where food is served.
The two teenagers sat out in the forest. They didn’t mean to be there; they should have been to school. However, the sweet, clear liquid in their canteen sustained them; they weren’t really worried. In fact, they weren’t really anything. They just were.
the food lay cold & congealed ,looking decidedly greasy & unappetising, “coffee please”, II said . . . .
I used canteens to carry water to school every day. It was a contest, among my friends. To see who could have the coldest water. On a hot summer day, our water would do little to help our thirst.
the steel canteen dropped with a loud clang and its content spilled on the classroom floor. plain rice. he stood petrified.
Step one: When traversing across an arid desert, always bring several canteens of water. That way, if you are somehow attacked by a giant, mutant scorpion, only a few of said canteens will be punctured. What an efficient shield!
It was a hot day in the dessert. We had been wondering for days. Lost, looking for a new home. We had 3 canteens. Barley any water was left. My mouth was parched. Should I take the last sip?
I never had a canteen when I was little. I guess I didn’t have one as an adult either. The boy across the street had one. I thought that was so cool. It didn’t matter if I was thirsty or not. It was cool to have. He was in the cub scouts. That wolf patch was cool.
I glanced down at my canteen; almost empty. I wanted to take a drink, but how long would I have to go without water then? My throat was dry. I longed for the water truck to come. Suddenly, the urge became too great. I held the canteen to my dry and cracked lips, and began to take a long drink.
I could drink a whole canteen full of ice cold lemon aid. I like it with just a little bit of pulp. Not a lot though. Too much pulp makes me gag. And I would hate to throw up in my canteen. Wouldn’t you?
canteen
Canteen. Dammit, I got this word before. A canteen is a place where people get served food, often tacky decor with plastic chairs and tables, and an angry looking woman behing the counter with a huge mole on her nose. She appears to have a beard, which is strange for a woman. Yum.
Heart racing, canteen beating against his chest as he bolted through the forest. How had it come to this, he thought. But, surely, surely there must be something better on the other side of the forest. Some sort of refuge, safehaven perhaps, but with his luck probably not. Chances are it would be just another broken dream fueled by anger and sadness. Though there was no other choice, the only way he could go was forward, no looking back now.
he drank from the canteen and spit out the contents. “what am I drinking?”, he said to himself. It tasted like horse…well…you get the idea. he looked around and saw that he had awoken in the middle of a desert. There was not a clear path, so he began walking in the direction of the sun.
While walking through the desert one hot afternoon I came upon a clearing in the road and a sign pointing west to Death Valley. It was one of those scorching days when the sun’s powers of distortion are in full effect. Feeling parched, I reached for my canteen and found a pistol in its place. That pistol would later come in handy.
water
portable
heavy
camping
hiking
trails
lost
adventure
Jeff’s eyes opened a crack. The sun beat down on him and he had to shut them again. He rolled over on to his stomach and re-opened them. He could see the cracked ground beneath him. Dirt covered his bloody hands. He tried to call for someone, anyone, but his throat was too dry to let any sound escape. He had been lost in this canyon for four days now. He grabbed his canteen and tried to coax some hidden drops from it, but just as the morning before, there were no drops to drink. He slowly fumbled his way to his feet, and looked to the ridge of the canyon. He scanned all around him. Nothing. No water, and no people. He fell to his knees and cried into his hands. Suddenly he was in shadow, and he felt a warm touch on his shoulder. He smiled and closed his eyes, as the spirit took him home.
There was a canteen in the institution where my brother lived for a long time. It was a sad and disheartening place. The grounds were sterile, the buildings were barren, and the atmosphere was hard to bear. But in the canteen, there was this plant that came from one little pot and wound all around the ceiling and around the whole room. It made me feel like there was life, and some kind of goodness was possible.
wen i took a trip to the desert i brought along my trusty canteen, it saved m y life. so when i returned home i married it, we have three children and i couldnt be any happier. my canteen is the love of my life
it contains that which we need, that which we share, that which when brought into our lives can sprout a party.
A limitless place, echoing floor tiles and dreay seats. Many men all crammed in together, not talking, just sitting, staring ahead at whatever existence they’ve conjured for themselves. A quiet place. A dead place. No changes, no life.
Dull lifeless boring needs a bit of spice if you get what I mean in the canteen. :) :) :) :) :) <3
Her parched lips touched the warm metal spout of the canteen and she signed. There wasn’t even a drop of water that could be scrounged to ease her thirst.
idk about the word canteen but i will guess about it is it about a teenager and stuff lyke can i try duhg next word …(FIRST TIME DOING THIS)
I wandered through the desert with my empty canteen around my neck. Sweat dripped from my nose. It ran into my eyes, stinging terribly.
Water. I needed water. Where could I find water? Would I thirst to death?
It was strange to be in the company of people all under the age of twenty who all addressed each other as Mr. Bryant, Miss Poole, Miss Truberson- it was the protocol of the department store where we all worked, temporary hired help for the toy department at Christmas. Mr. Williams was Lego and Meccano and such and a mod in his time off, Miss Truberson was home from Sheffield where she was studying French and Spanish, she was delighted to have dolls; I was teddy bears, I still have an expert eye and felt a nervous pang whether each one sold was going to a loving home. We ate in the staff canteen, Mr Brown who I knew as PB in civvy street languished in electrics but shone at the disco, Mr, McCarron was perfume and loved it, he shared a bedsit with my brother, he killed himself with an overdose of french blues, we had so much in common
“Canteen??” Whats that i asked Mr. Bronson in class today.
The canteen was empty and the rum that was in it was soaked into my shirt. “Take it off,” she said, and I did. She twisted it and the rum dripped into her mouth. “I think some soaked into my pants, too,” I said.
Thirst slaked, I gazed up to the peak of the mountain. The cool breeze rifled stray hairs that had fallen out of my ponytail. I wasn’t sure what I would find atop this peak, but I knew the view had to be worth it. I don’t like to do anything that isn’t worth it. Dropping the canteen on it’s loop back to my hip, I took my equipment, and prepared for the last stretch.
Reminds me of camp. Where’d I’d get everything I’d need, if I ever did. What is it really? The thing that holds water? Replenishes you? Rehydrates you? Yum.
That reminds me of that show mash although I’m not entirely sure why maybe because they drank out of canteens or probably because the whole show was canteen color. As if a color could be called canteen. I don’t know it also reminds me of camels. not the cigarettes.
The canteen was empty and the rum that was in it was soaked into my shirt. “Take it off,” she said, and I did. She twisted it and the rum dripped into her mouth. “I think some soaked into my pants, too,” I said.
holds water, you drink out of it. green, army green. hard, circular, my grandpa would definitely wrap duct tape around it. lips, hiking and the woods are it’s friend. it will keep you alive! umm, metal? makes a clacking noise when it hits something. there’s nothing really to it, it’s simple but it can be very important in certain situations.
Holds water/liquid. You drink from with your mouth. Quenches thirst.
water you need it when you go camping or hiking… hang it from your neck… round,,, twist top… brown case… leather case….. thirsty… perfect size…