I knew I shouldn’t have listened in on him. He’d yell at me if he knew that I was outside his door last night, my ear pressed against the wood of the door. But I heard it and it’s hard pretending I didn’t. It’s hard pretending that I don’t know anything when I do.
Water dripped down the corners of wall. The occasional scuttle of rats feet startled her, but she knew they meant no harm. Everyone’s just trying to survive, that’s all. She could hear the tick-tick-ticks of a lizard’s call and the faraway cry of people, the hustle and bustle of commerce a few streets away.
Most importantly, she had been listening to a certain someone. Watching him. Waiting for him. His snores had been going on for awhile now, and the prisoner confidently slipped her hands through the bars.
i already wrote about listening and now I am frustrated. But right now I am listening to Chad Sugg and I love him. He’s dabomb.com or .gov maybe .edu I really want to read his book Monsters Under My Head but I have to buy it first
i don’t like to listen but I should. I kinda just like to sit in the corner and stare into space. i like to imagine a lot more than I like to do. But imagining is addictive. It’s so much fun!
it’s hard to listen when there are so many thoughts of your own begging to be heard. but if youre only listening to yourself, you’ll only know your world. never experiencing it with another, never understanding or connection. life can get lonely.
Listening used to be one of my best qualities, one of my well-practiced skills. Not any more I think. I’m rather tired of listening to excuses, to reasons why the answers were always no. So I stopped asking and just started doing. My life suddenly became my own again. But what do I do about you? Leaving you behind means living actively in my own life, staying means more of the same war of my will against yours until our final days. Life should have more meaning than just complacent surrender, shouldn’t it?
Secrets spill from your lips like Niagra Falls, and I can’t help to wonder. Why me? You’ve given me the sacred key to your soul, all your faults and all your fears. Your darkest secrets slip through my ears, and I see you transform into something hideously beautiful. Your faults make me love you more. I’m not alone, everyone has secrets. Even the ones who seem like they do no wrong. You’ve blessed me with your secrets. I’ll never tell anyone. I’ll hold them dearly to my heart because your trust is a gift i’d never return. I’ll sit here listening, because, i can hear it in your voice, that’s all you’ve ever wanted, and all you’ve ever needed. Some one to listen.
No one listens anymore. I have not met a good listener in a long time. Everyone is so into their own thoughts and their own ideas to care about others.
I was listening, but not really hearing. The counselor was going on and on about how we choose to be happy, but it sounded idiotic to me. Of course I tried to choose happiness, but I was finding it wasn’t quite that simple.
If he would just listen…if I would just listen…if we would just listen. Actually, I don’t think listening is our problem. I think the problems is that we’re both to stubborn and too scared. We get freaked out and we run. We play chicken with our emotions. We both talk, we communicate, but we ignore things. We are afraid of what could be because what has been. It’s stupid, and it sucks. It’s a big, compliccated mes.
You’re not listening. You were never good at listening. Puffed up in pride and self-righteousness, you disregard my attempts at making peace. Because I was wrong, and you were right, and that’s the way it is. Well maybe if you just stopped for one second and listened to the words coming out of your mouth you’d realize how much they hurt. I guess as long as all you’re hearing is your mind’s cry of “woe is me”, you’ll remain oblivious to the cries of all the people you’ve trodden on in your path to happiness.
Listening is a really hard thing to do. It takes practice and skill to listen, comprehend, and then form an opinion or think about what you just heard. Everyone complains that no one listens to them, but they rarely listen to anyone else either. Listening completely to someone requires concentration, but it is incredibly important.
listening to the things she could say. the screams she wanted to released. and the sobs she held back. Listen to the sound of the cracking whip. the skin breaking the tears heating the cold hard wood floor. Listen the the neighbor turn up the volume on the Tv and ignore it all.
listening to feed back from an outside audio source, being it radio ,t.v , person and or animal just to name a few examles.listening is the art of a success in marriage, and everyday life.
Shh, quiet. Can you hear that? Barely a whisper, barely audible. Really, it’s there. On the tip of the wind’s breadth, tickling past your ears. It’s a whole new path enticing you to follow it. Just listen.
“Don’t you ever listen?” cried my mother as we were sitting in the car driving on the deserted highway. Of course I listened, sometimes… well, I tried. It’s hard when you’re a kid like me… always trapped in your own mind. I always thought she was lucky to have a kid that could keep themselves occupied since not many can…
I wasn’t. I should have been. You were telling me something incredibly important but my mind was elsewhere. I needed to focus. It’s the story of my life. Being someplace else when I should have been with you.
Listen to the sounds of joy. The hearts of the children are leaping as they see the presents under the Christmas tree. The yuletide greetings fill their souls with happiness and wonder as they patiently await what will be inside their presents this morning.
The whole world sat still, listening for something new, something different. It was a need to be part of something greater than themselves, but it was an ultimatley futile desire. The sound would never come; its essence was the greatest con there ever would be, but every year people would still stop and listen, hoping, praying that maybe someday their lives would come to fruition.
She puts her ear to the door, listening to the sound of the pencil scratching across paper. No matter what she says, he always insists on scrawling each draft in thick block letters. His left hand will be covered in graphite by the end, but it is this determination, this commitment to the work, that makes her fall in love with him again and again.
When someone cares, and comprehends what you are saying to them. It is something that everyone needs, someone to listen. We should all do this for one another and learn to be quiet in order to hear from others, it is wise.
Listening to Swedish House Mafia in their last ever show, ever. Sad, but lovely. My private indulgence in the Social Sciences and Humanities library. Please don’t kick me out. Please. I promise I will move on to actual studying soon.
“I’m listening,” he mumbled, clearly doing otherwise. “Really.”
Eyelids drooped and he barely caught his head from colliding with the table.
“I can see that.” She growled. “You’re not the one we need to worry about. We know you’re OBVIOUSLY liseining, but who ELSE is listening? We can’t let this get out to anyone else!”
“You’re not LISTENING to me! I need HELP!” I shout to Ben. His eyes glaze and he stares off into space. Why am I paying 50 dollars an hour for this shit.
People lack the ability to listen. You’d be surprised how much listening can help in life.
If everyone listened, miscomunication would be less of an issue. Which would be nice. We need lass Issues
I was listening to the couple in the apartment next door arguing. I felt sorry for the guy, and was glad I had never married. She sounded like a bitch, and I wanted to go in there and give him some moral support.
I enjoy listening rather than talking. Talking never does us much good anyhow. I wish more people would listen to the details. Everyone seems so preoccupied with tomorrow or yesterday. Instead of just allowing time for the present, we skip ahead to the next page.
I was listening to my favorite song. Strangely it’s the only song i can listen to constantly without getting bored. Usually i get tired of things easily , quickly. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of her… she was something new, something I haven’t experienced before. Like a new song.
Listening to the sound of rain hitting the window. listening to music while driving down the highway with the windows down and the wind in your hair. listening to stupid jokes that only you and your friends think are funny. listening to the world, cause everyone has something to say.
i sat down listening to the eeri silence of the night. My heart aches from the pain, lungs squeezed tight, stomach about to burst. My eyes are tearing. Listening that’s all i did, just listened.
I knew I shouldn’t have listened in on him. He’d yell at me if he knew that I was outside his door last night, my ear pressed against the wood of the door. But I heard it and it’s hard pretending I didn’t. It’s hard pretending that I don’t know anything when I do.
Water dripped down the corners of wall. The occasional scuttle of rats feet startled her, but she knew they meant no harm. Everyone’s just trying to survive, that’s all. She could hear the tick-tick-ticks of a lizard’s call and the faraway cry of people, the hustle and bustle of commerce a few streets away.
Most importantly, she had been listening to a certain someone. Watching him. Waiting for him. His snores had been going on for awhile now, and the prisoner confidently slipped her hands through the bars.
i already wrote about listening and now I am frustrated. But right now I am listening to Chad Sugg and I love him. He’s dabomb.com or .gov maybe .edu I really want to read his book Monsters Under My Head but I have to buy it first
i don’t like to listen but I should. I kinda just like to sit in the corner and stare into space. i like to imagine a lot more than I like to do. But imagining is addictive. It’s so much fun!
people, boyfriend, relationship, vital.. important. comunication. nature, ear, headphones, society. living,
it’s hard to listen when there are so many thoughts of your own begging to be heard. but if youre only listening to yourself, you’ll only know your world. never experiencing it with another, never understanding or connection. life can get lonely.
Robert sat down while Miss Gringer was listening to what she called the cosmic noise. It was something only she could hear.
Listening used to be one of my best qualities, one of my well-practiced skills. Not any more I think. I’m rather tired of listening to excuses, to reasons why the answers were always no. So I stopped asking and just started doing. My life suddenly became my own again. But what do I do about you? Leaving you behind means living actively in my own life, staying means more of the same war of my will against yours until our final days. Life should have more meaning than just complacent surrender, shouldn’t it?
Secrets spill from your lips like Niagra Falls, and I can’t help to wonder. Why me? You’ve given me the sacred key to your soul, all your faults and all your fears. Your darkest secrets slip through my ears, and I see you transform into something hideously beautiful. Your faults make me love you more. I’m not alone, everyone has secrets. Even the ones who seem like they do no wrong. You’ve blessed me with your secrets. I’ll never tell anyone. I’ll hold them dearly to my heart because your trust is a gift i’d never return. I’ll sit here listening, because, i can hear it in your voice, that’s all you’ve ever wanted, and all you’ve ever needed. Some one to listen.
testing yourself
No one listens anymore. I have not met a good listener in a long time. Everyone is so into their own thoughts and their own ideas to care about others.
you were always there for me
silent and unwavering
you were like a guard
in London streets
silent and unwavering
you were like a weeping willow
under which i use to sit
silent and unwavering
but always listening.
I was listening, but not really hearing. The counselor was going on and on about how we choose to be happy, but it sounded idiotic to me. Of course I tried to choose happiness, but I was finding it wasn’t quite that simple.
If he would just listen…if I would just listen…if we would just listen. Actually, I don’t think listening is our problem. I think the problems is that we’re both to stubborn and too scared. We get freaked out and we run. We play chicken with our emotions. We both talk, we communicate, but we ignore things. We are afraid of what could be because what has been. It’s stupid, and it sucks. It’s a big, compliccated mes.
You’re not listening. You were never good at listening. Puffed up in pride and self-righteousness, you disregard my attempts at making peace. Because I was wrong, and you were right, and that’s the way it is. Well maybe if you just stopped for one second and listened to the words coming out of your mouth you’d realize how much they hurt. I guess as long as all you’re hearing is your mind’s cry of “woe is me”, you’ll remain oblivious to the cries of all the people you’ve trodden on in your path to happiness.
Listening is a really hard thing to do. It takes practice and skill to listen, comprehend, and then form an opinion or think about what you just heard. Everyone complains that no one listens to them, but they rarely listen to anyone else either. Listening completely to someone requires concentration, but it is incredibly important.
listening to the things she could say. the screams she wanted to released. and the sobs she held back. Listen to the sound of the cracking whip. the skin breaking the tears heating the cold hard wood floor. Listen the the neighbor turn up the volume on the Tv and ignore it all.
i am listening to what you say
my ears are facing the window
my eyes are facing the speakers
i have no listening posture
teachers are wrong when they say
that eye contact means i care
i don’t look at you but
i am listening to what you say
listening to feed back from an outside audio source, being it radio ,t.v , person and or animal just to name a few examles.listening is the art of a success in marriage, and everyday life.
Shh, quiet. Can you hear that? Barely a whisper, barely audible. Really, it’s there. On the tip of the wind’s breadth, tickling past your ears. It’s a whole new path enticing you to follow it. Just listen.
“Don’t you ever listen?” cried my mother as we were sitting in the car driving on the deserted highway. Of course I listened, sometimes… well, I tried. It’s hard when you’re a kid like me… always trapped in your own mind. I always thought she was lucky to have a kid that could keep themselves occupied since not many can…
She pressed herself against the wall. The whispers were barely audible. A muffle of gabble. Hushed voices from behind the divider.
holy shit 60 seconds is a lot
I wasn’t. I should have been. You were telling me something incredibly important but my mind was elsewhere. I needed to focus. It’s the story of my life. Being someplace else when I should have been with you.
Listen to the sounds of joy. The hearts of the children are leaping as they see the presents under the Christmas tree. The yuletide greetings fill their souls with happiness and wonder as they patiently await what will be inside their presents this morning.
The whole world sat still, listening for something new, something different. It was a need to be part of something greater than themselves, but it was an ultimatley futile desire. The sound would never come; its essence was the greatest con there ever would be, but every year people would still stop and listen, hoping, praying that maybe someday their lives would come to fruition.
She puts her ear to the door, listening to the sound of the pencil scratching across paper. No matter what she says, he always insists on scrawling each draft in thick block letters. His left hand will be covered in graphite by the end, but it is this determination, this commitment to the work, that makes her fall in love with him again and again.
When someone cares, and comprehends what you are saying to them. It is something that everyone needs, someone to listen. We should all do this for one another and learn to be quiet in order to hear from others, it is wise.
Listening to Swedish House Mafia in their last ever show, ever. Sad, but lovely. My private indulgence in the Social Sciences and Humanities library. Please don’t kick me out. Please. I promise I will move on to actual studying soon.
“I’m listening,” he mumbled, clearly doing otherwise. “Really.”
Eyelids drooped and he barely caught his head from colliding with the table.
“I can see that.” She growled. “You’re not the one we need to worry about. We know you’re OBVIOUSLY liseining, but who ELSE is listening? We can’t let this get out to anyone else!”
Is the soul of wit, to laugh and to respond.
Eyes held, and breaths affected
Are you listening
can you hear what I hear?
I speak
You listen
You speak
I dont pay attention
keep glistening.
“You’re not LISTENING to me! I need HELP!” I shout to Ben. His eyes glaze and he stares off into space. Why am I paying 50 dollars an hour for this shit.
People lack the ability to listen. You’d be surprised how much listening can help in life.
If everyone listened, miscomunication would be less of an issue. Which would be nice. We need lass Issues
I was listening to the couple in the apartment next door arguing. I felt sorry for the guy, and was glad I had never married. She sounded like a bitch, and I wanted to go in there and give him some moral support.
I enjoy listening rather than talking. Talking never does us much good anyhow. I wish more people would listen to the details. Everyone seems so preoccupied with tomorrow or yesterday. Instead of just allowing time for the present, we skip ahead to the next page.
I was listening to my favorite song. Strangely it’s the only song i can listen to constantly without getting bored. Usually i get tired of things easily , quickly. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of her… she was something new, something I haven’t experienced before. Like a new song.
Listening to the sound of rain hitting the window. listening to music while driving down the highway with the windows down and the wind in your hair. listening to stupid jokes that only you and your friends think are funny. listening to the world, cause everyone has something to say.
holding our breath
thought we heard something
entangled in sheets and limbs
in the family home
frozen, listening
some people are listening
they listen to the roads
they listen to the world
they listen to people talk and speak and sing and laugh
but most of the time, it’s not true
they listen
but do not hear
i sat down listening to the eeri silence of the night. My heart aches from the pain, lungs squeezed tight, stomach about to burst. My eyes are tearing. Listening that’s all i did, just listened.