A rusty, creaky hinge, hidden by ivy and wild flowers, attached to what was once a happily painted white wooden gate. Now the paint is peeling, and the flowers have taken over more than their fair share of the space. The gate is stuck at an odd angle, appearing as if it wants to be opened but no longer knows how.
My heart is black and you’re all inside out; your veins and organs and tissue all on display. We sure do look odd, walking down the street. Me closed off like a lock with no key, and you wearing everything out for everyone to see (even if they don’t want to see). I know the hinges of my mind can’t hold on to you forever like this, and you know that my arteries are already tangled and broken.
But oh darling, how beautiful it was when we thought this mess was ours.
flapped open the door
and i saw it was raining
so i put on my jacket
and began with my training
it doesn’t have to be intense
just a simple stride of cleansing
and i’m glad i saw myself
happily rearranging
i won’t work too hard
on finding where i belong
because God does that for me
He knows it all along
When you think about the most important part of the door most peope would say the handle. I would say the large piece of wood that covers the hole in the wall, but there is one piece most peope forget, and it is the hinge. The hinge is what keeps the entire mechanism functioning, without it we wouldn’t be able to move the door, so it’s even more useless than a hole in the wall. Heaven forbid.
The hinge was rusted by years of uselessness and new technology developing at a constant speed. The robot could barely move the right arm his doctor had so carefully constructed with care. The ability to touch to flesh of a human, a female human was new, yet it sent a shocks through the alpha generators that gave him life. Sparks of electricity jumped with joy and fear. In the night, his oval eyes had turned a moonlight color that glowed eerily. It was the lonely sort of glow, the kind that stands still in the dark streets and dark corners. The kinds that lingers for something new–perhaps, it is looking to be found. Perhaps, the robot was looking to be found, to be loved by the female she touched. According to the data, he had collected over the years the bruises and scars on the woman’s body were of abuse. The robot knew the female had a significant other, a man who was brutal. There was something in the woman’s eyes that his data could not pinpoint, and that was emptiness. Fog formed in the irises of her eyes. Like the robot, the female was lost as well.
The worn out gate was loose on its hinges and swung loosely in the wind. We were afraid to go past the gate and into the house because someone said that an old weird lady lived there. It was night time and the moon was full casting all sorts of shadows from the trees.
the door had a hinge on it. It is awesome because it makes the door go back and forth. It is probably the best invention in the world becasue we now get privacy. Even though the USA hates privact
This all hinges on you, after all. Didn’t you know that when I held out my hand, it was yours to take or yours to push away? I lapped up your attention with my wide doe eyes, I smiled and waited and clung to your shy shadow. You let me pretend I am chaining you in, but don’t you see you hold my heartstrings taunt? I don’t know if I caved first or how you roped me in, but I collapsed against you with a thousand exhales, and the anxiety and the bitterness and the pounding in my head evaporated. I felt the shudder in your shoulderblades, and all I wanted in that moment was to mirror your weakness in me, so badly. But you see, really, I couldn’t. Not then. Not yet. Because I am waiting for you to say you crave that shiver.
The door hinge creaked, echoing around the house as Lissy crept carefully across the old wooden floorboards. Groaning with every step, Lissy cringed until she reached the front door.
The hinge should be mortised to allow for proper action of the door. A brass hinge can be nice for more ornate applications. A piano hinge can be used for large surface area doors of thin material. Gate hinges are heavy duty hinges made to support gates.
Door hinge. Summertime. Porch swing. Lemonade. Gnats and mosquitoes. Bamboo forest behind the backyard. Treehouse with the Stoner boys. Afraid to climb in, but finally I did. What could I see? Was there anything I could see out to from that vantage point?
I have hinges on my door and they let me into the room so the door wont fall on my face and I like that because otherwise I’d get hurt. I love hinges because I can close the door. Otherwise I wouldnt have privacy. I can change in my own room.
i crept into the room. it was around 7 and dark. Ky was at a pep rally and his mom was at banquet of some sort. Yogi the dog was outside as far as i’d known. i was almost done going through Ky’s room when suddenly the downstairs front door opened. i heard multiple people come in and Ky’s voice carried to me. Oh God. Oh God. What was i going to do? It was a one way hall and a 3 story building. What was i going to do? I heard Ky and what sounded like his friends Josh, Ryan, and Rick make their way up the stairs. and in a panic i did the most childish thing. I hide behind the door of his bedroom and held my breath until i heard the stupid, stupid hinge creak and was face to face with Ky.
It creaks, every time I open the bathroom cabinet. Creaks, just like my joints when I stand up after a long time. Sooner or later, everything gets old, everything needs oil, everything needs care…even our own bodies, even an old forgotten cabinet hinge.
The old house on the corner called out to me as I passed. It’s rough doors, squeaky hinges, peeling paint and rusted doorknocker. I had to own it. This may have been someone else’s work nightmare, but she was my dream house. After six years, “for sale” was finally posted on her lawn. I could finally buy her.
The old house creaked and moaned, complaining about its rotted boards and twisted frame. It had once held charming furniture, now haunted by the veil of spider webs and dust. Children came, claiming some spirit now roamed the houses coridors, yet it was just a house. A house rotting by its hinges, inside and out.
Creaking sounds echoed from the hinge that connected this white rotting door to the crumbling gray walls of this faltering house. I slammed it in hopes of escaping this realm. This world that was collapsing. Yet their voices still rang like gunshots in a forest and I’m an injured deer.
i feel my bones creaking like the hinge of a door. closing my eyes when the oil trickled down my tongue like swallowed secrets I’m too afraid to speak, but they dribble anyway.
It all hinges on one person is a ridiculous concept. Everything and everyone add to the momentum of a movement, of a revolution, or a idea. If life is all about one person moving us forward as a society then we will always be left behind. One man can’t do it alone.
However with friends and loved ones, he can do anything.
What’s a hinge? I never really asked myself that question before, yet the teacher just stood there waiting for me to answer her ridiculous question. I looked at my classmates who were snickering at me as if I was a fool.
Which I was really, I’m just telling the truth but I could see the teacher growing furious every second I wasted her time.
The hinge on the front door always squeeks when I open it for the first time in the summer. It makes the dogs bark at the intruder that isn’t there, but I like the sound because it seems like the old beach house is welcoming me back.
Everything hinged on this moment. Nothing mattered but how this went. She tried to think what she would do, what would be her next step, if this didn’t work. But the only thing in mind was sitting back, closing her eyes, and saying goodbye to everything. Because if this meeting with this insane dictator didn’t go right, the world was going to be virtually over. Mass distruction and anarchy would rule. Bad picture.. She took a deep breath as the door swung open, squeaking on its hinges…
I’m not sure, Isn’t a hinge on a door? Like in charles Dickens, he always makes references to squeaky hinges on doors. I’m currently reading great expectations.
He hinged on to her. How could he not? He was just in love, that’s all. It was just an instinct, and that’s it. He felt danger, competition. Something had ticked him off. And now all he felt for was the girl. But she was the danger. She was the competition. She was the lie… And most of all: She was the lead.
Squeaking, the door opened to reveal yet another dust ridden room. Cobwebs hung from the walls and ceiling strangely beautiful in the dust filtered light. It wasn’t liveable. Not yet. Her train of thought was interrupted by another screaming hinge giving way downstairs. “Oil the hinges for a start, at least it’ll feel less haunted without all the squealing!” She called down to Mark, and smiled.
Hinges squeak when they get old and rusted. When a door opens, you hear the creaking hinge all over the house. Everyone knows what the sound is and which door has been opened. So I don’t know why I thought I was going to get away with sneaking back into the house at 4 o’clock in the morning, but I did. And I didn’t.
SOPA and PIPA have been sidelined, and everyone has heaved a collective sigh of relief. But wait! Now there’s ACTA trying to sneak in under the radar. This is really, REALLY bad news. As in GLOBAL. Have you heard about it? If not, look it up–while you still can. A lot hinges on this, folks.
I have become unhinged. A slow creeping into a creature completely free from its thoughts, feelings and actions. I am lost because I can’t find where I’m supposed to fit back in. I need to be hinged again. Or learn to live unhinged?
A rusty, creaky hinge, hidden by ivy and wild flowers, attached to what was once a happily painted white wooden gate. Now the paint is peeling, and the flowers have taken over more than their fair share of the space. The gate is stuck at an odd angle, appearing as if it wants to be opened but no longer knows how.
My heart is black and you’re all inside out; your veins and organs and tissue all on display. We sure do look odd, walking down the street. Me closed off like a lock with no key, and you wearing everything out for everyone to see (even if they don’t want to see). I know the hinges of my mind can’t hold on to you forever like this, and you know that my arteries are already tangled and broken.
But oh darling, how beautiful it was when we thought this mess was ours.
flapped open the door
and i saw it was raining
so i put on my jacket
and began with my training
it doesn’t have to be intense
just a simple stride of cleansing
and i’m glad i saw myself
happily rearranging
i won’t work too hard
on finding where i belong
because God does that for me
He knows it all along
© L²
Hinge… We’re two opposites of a hinge so we can look 360 degrees. But never up and down, and never at each other, it would break our door.
When you think about the most important part of the door most peope would say the handle. I would say the large piece of wood that covers the hole in the wall, but there is one piece most peope forget, and it is the hinge. The hinge is what keeps the entire mechanism functioning, without it we wouldn’t be able to move the door, so it’s even more useless than a hole in the wall. Heaven forbid.
Hi. The hinges at the door is slightly broken. I may have damaged it even more this morning. Someone needs to fix it. Someone call the repairman. Bye.
The hinge was rusted by years of uselessness and new technology developing at a constant speed. The robot could barely move the right arm his doctor had so carefully constructed with care. The ability to touch to flesh of a human, a female human was new, yet it sent a shocks through the alpha generators that gave him life. Sparks of electricity jumped with joy and fear. In the night, his oval eyes had turned a moonlight color that glowed eerily. It was the lonely sort of glow, the kind that stands still in the dark streets and dark corners. The kinds that lingers for something new–perhaps, it is looking to be found. Perhaps, the robot was looking to be found, to be loved by the female she touched. According to the data, he had collected over the years the bruises and scars on the woman’s body were of abuse. The robot knew the female had a significant other, a man who was brutal. There was something in the woman’s eyes that his data could not pinpoint, and that was emptiness. Fog formed in the irises of her eyes. Like the robot, the female was lost as well.
it all hinged on the next breath. too deep and it would all slip away. to shallow and they would all know the truth.
The worn out gate was loose on its hinges and swung loosely in the wind. We were afraid to go past the gate and into the house because someone said that an old weird lady lived there. It was night time and the moon was full casting all sorts of shadows from the trees.
the door had a hinge on it. It is awesome because it makes the door go back and forth. It is probably the best invention in the world becasue we now get privacy. Even though the USA hates privact
This all hinges on you, after all. Didn’t you know that when I held out my hand, it was yours to take or yours to push away? I lapped up your attention with my wide doe eyes, I smiled and waited and clung to your shy shadow. You let me pretend I am chaining you in, but don’t you see you hold my heartstrings taunt? I don’t know if I caved first or how you roped me in, but I collapsed against you with a thousand exhales, and the anxiety and the bitterness and the pounding in my head evaporated. I felt the shudder in your shoulderblades, and all I wanted in that moment was to mirror your weakness in me, so badly. But you see, really, I couldn’t. Not then. Not yet. Because I am waiting for you to say you crave that shiver.
this rusty hinge
holding my mind together
is beginning to give way
The hinge on the door was useless and it now hung limply, reminding Jason of all he had done, all he had lost.
The door hinge creaked, echoing around the house as Lissy crept carefully across the old wooden floorboards. Groaning with every step, Lissy cringed until she reached the front door.
The hinge should be mortised to allow for proper action of the door. A brass hinge can be nice for more ornate applications. A piano hinge can be used for large surface area doors of thin material. Gate hinges are heavy duty hinges made to support gates.
Door hinge. Summertime. Porch swing. Lemonade. Gnats and mosquitoes. Bamboo forest behind the backyard. Treehouse with the Stoner boys. Afraid to climb in, but finally I did. What could I see? Was there anything I could see out to from that vantage point?
I have hinges on my door and they let me into the room so the door wont fall on my face and I like that because otherwise I’d get hurt. I love hinges because I can close the door. Otherwise I wouldnt have privacy. I can change in my own room.
unhinged. falling apart. hanging on by a thread. by the skin of your teeth. crazy. psychotic. insane.
….normal. authentic. human.
doors. mouths. emotions.
it’s all held together with a simple hinge. handy, but fragile.
i crept into the room. it was around 7 and dark. Ky was at a pep rally and his mom was at banquet of some sort. Yogi the dog was outside as far as i’d known. i was almost done going through Ky’s room when suddenly the downstairs front door opened. i heard multiple people come in and Ky’s voice carried to me. Oh God. Oh God. What was i going to do? It was a one way hall and a 3 story building. What was i going to do? I heard Ky and what sounded like his friends Josh, Ryan, and Rick make their way up the stairs. and in a panic i did the most childish thing. I hide behind the door of his bedroom and held my breath until i heard the stupid, stupid hinge creak and was face to face with Ky.
It creaks, every time I open the bathroom cabinet. Creaks, just like my joints when I stand up after a long time. Sooner or later, everything gets old, everything needs oil, everything needs care…even our own bodies, even an old forgotten cabinet hinge.
The old house on the corner called out to me as I passed. It’s rough doors, squeaky hinges, peeling paint and rusted doorknocker. I had to own it. This may have been someone else’s work nightmare, but she was my dream house. After six years, “for sale” was finally posted on her lawn. I could finally buy her.
metal. door. white. wood. open. hallway. rooms. people. railing. steps. walking. stairs. downstairs. more steps. carpet. grey. more stairs. mat. socks. walk. shoes. out.
The old house creaked and moaned, complaining about its rotted boards and twisted frame. It had once held charming furniture, now haunted by the veil of spider webs and dust. Children came, claiming some spirit now roamed the houses coridors, yet it was just a house. A house rotting by its hinges, inside and out.
Creaking sounds echoed from the hinge that connected this white rotting door to the crumbling gray walls of this faltering house. I slammed it in hopes of escaping this realm. This world that was collapsing. Yet their voices still rang like gunshots in a forest and I’m an injured deer.
i feel my bones creaking like the hinge of a door. closing my eyes when the oil trickled down my tongue like swallowed secrets I’m too afraid to speak, but they dribble anyway.
It all hinges on one person is a ridiculous concept. Everything and everyone add to the momentum of a movement, of a revolution, or a idea. If life is all about one person moving us forward as a society then we will always be left behind. One man can’t do it alone.
However with friends and loved ones, he can do anything.
What’s a hinge? I never really asked myself that question before, yet the teacher just stood there waiting for me to answer her ridiculous question. I looked at my classmates who were snickering at me as if I was a fool.
Which I was really, I’m just telling the truth but I could see the teacher growing furious every second I wasted her time.
The hinge on the front door always squeeks when I open it for the first time in the summer. It makes the dogs bark at the intruder that isn’t there, but I like the sound because it seems like the old beach house is welcoming me back.
Everything hinged on this moment. Nothing mattered but how this went. She tried to think what she would do, what would be her next step, if this didn’t work. But the only thing in mind was sitting back, closing her eyes, and saying goodbye to everything. Because if this meeting with this insane dictator didn’t go right, the world was going to be virtually over. Mass distruction and anarchy would rule. Bad picture.. She took a deep breath as the door swung open, squeaking on its hinges…
I’m not sure, Isn’t a hinge on a door? Like in charles Dickens, he always makes references to squeaky hinges on doors. I’m currently reading great expectations.
bring me
to the pool
Lay down
I’m yours
off the hinge i went
fell to the floor
in a pool of self pity
trying to drowned myself
but father pulling me out willing or not
gave me my options;
carry on or make it out alive
and i chose to make it out alive
Door hinge. Squeeky. Hinge joint, like my elbow, my knee. Opens and closes something, lifts, and lowers. Associated with an entrance, exit, anatomy…
He hinged on to her. How could he not? He was just in love, that’s all. It was just an instinct, and that’s it. He felt danger, competition. Something had ticked him off. And now all he felt for was the girl. But she was the danger. She was the competition. She was the lie… And most of all: She was the lead.
Squeaking, the door opened to reveal yet another dust ridden room. Cobwebs hung from the walls and ceiling strangely beautiful in the dust filtered light. It wasn’t liveable. Not yet. Her train of thought was interrupted by another screaming hinge giving way downstairs. “Oil the hinges for a start, at least it’ll feel less haunted without all the squealing!” She called down to Mark, and smiled.
Hinges squeak when they get old and rusted. When a door opens, you hear the creaking hinge all over the house. Everyone knows what the sound is and which door has been opened. So I don’t know why I thought I was going to get away with sneaking back into the house at 4 o’clock in the morning, but I did. And I didn’t.
SOPA and PIPA have been sidelined, and everyone has heaved a collective sigh of relief. But wait! Now there’s ACTA trying to sneak in under the radar. This is really, REALLY bad news. As in GLOBAL. Have you heard about it? If not, look it up–while you still can. A lot hinges on this, folks.
I turn the knob and open the door ajar, then squeak…! The high-pitched metal squealing stops me in place. I’m too afraid to step through now.
I have become unhinged. A slow creeping into a creature completely free from its thoughts, feelings and actions. I am lost because I can’t find where I’m supposed to fit back in. I need to be hinged again. Or learn to live unhinged?
he exploded the door open, so that rainbows started flying out from the hinges