“Sometimes, he ate the mist,” said the child. The mother smiled and spoke, “A mist eater?” “Yes!” the the child responded, “Times at the pier, when the fog was unbearable, and not even the lighthouse could aid, he ate the mist. You see, he is out of the spectrum of light. Completely invisible to the human eye. The only evidence that he even exists is the sudden lifting of the mist.”
Covered, the grass lightly moistened by the fresh dew, in a layer of foggy, beauty. The place was a green desertland, all you saw was trees and the mist in front of your face. No human life, nothing.
This mist cleared and I surveyed the area, confused. “What happened?” My friend asked, perplexed. “I’m not sure…” I mumbled, noticing the rubble and debris scattered around the city. “But it doesn’t look good.”
The mist in the air. My favorite time of the year. Cool, damp mist. Just enough to cool me, to refresh me, but never enough to chill me. Ah the sweet, sweet, feeling of a light mist on a hot summer’s afternoon.
Escribir una sola palabra tampoco es que dé para mucho, sobretodo si tenemos en cuentas que ya estamos usando más para contarlo y todavía muchas más para pensarlo. en fin misión fracasada
the mist came up behind me, and it enveloped me…I couldn’t escape, it took me by surprise. it floats through the air, as though it wasn’t bound by law or culture. It was free, it was pulling me in.
I just watched Kick-Ass for the second time last night and to be honest Red Mist is a huge jack ass…. he shoots a twelve-year-old in the chest…. 3 times…. wth Red Mist?
In the mist, there was a figure. I suddenly panicked, but I couldn’t move. It seemed as if invisible strings were holding me in place. The figure came closer – I couldn’t scream either… but it was a wizard, and he was here to help me.
The cold mist surrounded them, the chill permeating in their clothes. She took his arm and squeezed it, not wanting to let go. She burrowed her head on his chest. A few moments later, he looked down at her and without warning, brusquely shrugged his arm away from her. She glanced at him with wide-eyed surprise. He barked at her, “Who are you? What am i doing here?” She gasped and felt tears well in her eyes. Suddenly, trails of memories flashed before her eyes. She’s slowly losing them. Something’s taking them away from her.
mist, foggy days with mist everywhere. or rather the setting on the hose, mist, you use it to spray the little children to cool them down on hot days like these. when it’s a hundred degrees outside and there’s nothing to do and you spray them with that mist setting and they dream of colder
a soft awakening,b lisfull calm curls along the surface. spralling its floating body and whisping up to touch the sunlight that quickly rejects it and sends it back to its calm state of mind. a serenity follows it, like the peace that comes after death.
it falls over me like a blanket, sometimes warm and inviting, sometimes cold like an ex lover. not really sure what to make of it, where it would fit into my life, then in an instant it is gone, never to be seen in the same form again.
It wasn’t raining. The droplets in the air weren’t pounding on the pavement, they were floating through the air and making it feel muggy, yet cold all at the same time.
Looking on the window, rain is starting to evaporate from the sunlight that trickles in through the green leaves of the tree. I can see the mist rising from the lawn, envigorating.
It was a cloudy day and an old man was sitting on his creaking rocking chair. There was a slight mist in the air and all was quiet in the little town. A cat was slowly making its way up the driveway
There was a cloudy day and an old man was sitting on his creaking rocking chair. There was a slight mist in the air and all was quiet in the little town. A cat was slowly making its way up the driveway
It follows me across the pond like a love that won’t let me go and it reassures and hugs me with a chill that will never want me to come back but I can’t shake it either.
mist is a word I’m not familiar with. it might be because I’m not a native english speaker. but i like the sound of it. mist. mist. mist. mist. mist. miss. i miss someone. i always do.
The mist hangs over everything, thick and white. It whirls around his feet as he walks through it. *Fog machine,* he thinks, wryly. He’s never seen it this way before, and he half expects it to cling to his clothes like cotton candy, or a bit of cloud. He’s rather disappointed when he finds he doesn’t have a scrap to bring home.
I am standing outside of the cabin where Alberto Cassie and I are camping early in the morning. They are both still asleep and I walk up to the water and dive in and feel the cool water wash over me and cleanse my soul.
Mist came up form the swamp on the hot summer eve. The monster had been slumbering for days, months, years and now it was hungry. Hungry for the cool air of the night. Hungry for her.
It’s Ireland. Mist. All the time. You walk outside and you’re covered with a fine layer. It’s not something that burns off during the day, but something that sits with you through the morning, afternoon and into the night. Cool, sometimes cold, and sinking into your bones.
Mist is cold. But it’s inviting. I think of cold mornings at summer camps. I think of diving into lakes and swimming among the algae and fish. I love morning mist. It makes me think of childhood, better times.
usually occurs in the morning just as your trying to get to work or school or somewhere broing that you really dont want to be.. and to just top the bad morning and the mood your probably in youll have the mist added to it all.
The mist of tired through which you can’t see anything bar the woods of sleep. Careful, you who tread brashly, that you meander wisely for many have been known never to emerge.
water
showers
waterfalls
seira mist
soda
rainforest
gorillas in the mist
dew
mornings
misty from pokemon
“Sometimes, he ate the mist,” said the child. The mother smiled and spoke, “A mist eater?” “Yes!” the the child responded, “Times at the pier, when the fog was unbearable, and not even the lighthouse could aid, he ate the mist. You see, he is out of the spectrum of light. Completely invisible to the human eye. The only evidence that he even exists is the sudden lifting of the mist.”
Covered, the grass lightly moistened by the fresh dew, in a layer of foggy, beauty. The place was a green desertland, all you saw was trees and the mist in front of your face. No human life, nothing.
This mist cleared and I surveyed the area, confused. “What happened?” My friend asked, perplexed. “I’m not sure…” I mumbled, noticing the rubble and debris scattered around the city. “But it doesn’t look good.”
The mist in the air. My favorite time of the year. Cool, damp mist. Just enough to cool me, to refresh me, but never enough to chill me. Ah the sweet, sweet, feeling of a light mist on a hot summer’s afternoon.
into the mist, my knees a foot deep. you sure do talk a lot baby, but talk is cheap.
Escribir una sola palabra tampoco es que dé para mucho, sobretodo si tenemos en cuentas que ya estamos usando más para contarlo y todavía muchas más para pensarlo. en fin misión fracasada
the mist came up behind me, and it enveloped me…I couldn’t escape, it took me by surprise. it floats through the air, as though it wasn’t bound by law or culture. It was free, it was pulling me in.
Until this day I had thought of mist as something hid something else, but I now knew it as a means to reveal what was hidden in the bright day light.
mist is beauty. mist is nice. mist is refreshing. mist is the light. mist is mist.
the rain fell in a misty drizzle. i tilted my head back and took it all in.
I just watched Kick-Ass for the second time last night and to be honest Red Mist is a huge jack ass…. he shoots a twelve-year-old in the chest…. 3 times…. wth Red Mist?
In the mist, there was a figure. I suddenly panicked, but I couldn’t move. It seemed as if invisible strings were holding me in place. The figure came closer – I couldn’t scream either… but it was a wizard, and he was here to help me.
As I drove through the opaque mist in my car I thought I wish I could be lost forever.
dissipates forevermore, through the trees, from the earth, hits my cheek, your soul dissolved.
The cold mist surrounded them, the chill permeating in their clothes. She took his arm and squeezed it, not wanting to let go. She burrowed her head on his chest. A few moments later, he looked down at her and without warning, brusquely shrugged his arm away from her. She glanced at him with wide-eyed surprise. He barked at her, “Who are you? What am i doing here?” She gasped and felt tears well in her eyes. Suddenly, trails of memories flashed before her eyes. She’s slowly losing them. Something’s taking them away from her.
mist, foggy days with mist everywhere. or rather the setting on the hose, mist, you use it to spray the little children to cool them down on hot days like these. when it’s a hundred degrees outside and there’s nothing to do and you spray them with that mist setting and they dream of colder
a soft awakening,b lisfull calm curls along the surface. spralling its floating body and whisping up to touch the sunlight that quickly rejects it and sends it back to its calm state of mind. a serenity follows it, like the peace that comes after death.
it falls over me like a blanket, sometimes warm and inviting, sometimes cold like an ex lover. not really sure what to make of it, where it would fit into my life, then in an instant it is gone, never to be seen in the same form again.
It wasn’t raining. The droplets in the air weren’t pounding on the pavement, they were floating through the air and making it feel muggy, yet cold all at the same time.
The mist was thick; I could barely see a figure through it. The figure approached me, and as it did, I felt a wave of warmth. I was no longer cold.
Looking on the window, rain is starting to evaporate from the sunlight that trickles in through the green leaves of the tree. I can see the mist rising from the lawn, envigorating.
The mist shrouded Ryland like a cloak upon his shoulders. He stood at the helm,a shadow among cloudy surroundings.
Richardton T. Slump, oneword.com all-star.
© 2010, Richardton T. Slump
Make a man a car out of mist and he will be yours forever. Don’t believe me? Try it, idiot! You’ll never have to tend your own garden again.
What is it about a car made out of mist that so enchants each man? Why, my dear, it is simple. It is a car made out of *mist*.
It was a cloudy day and an old man was sitting on his creaking rocking chair. There was a slight mist in the air and all was quiet in the little town. A cat was slowly making its way up the driveway
There was a cloudy day and an old man was sitting on his creaking rocking chair. There was a slight mist in the air and all was quiet in the little town. A cat was slowly making its way up the driveway
It follows me across the pond like a love that won’t let me go and it reassures and hugs me with a chill that will never want me to come back but I can’t shake it either.
my wife’s love is like a cool mist on a hot day… and when her love explodes it rains down on me settling like a spring mist on rose petals
mist is a word I’m not familiar with. it might be because I’m not a native english speaker. but i like the sound of it. mist. mist. mist. mist. mist. miss. i miss someone. i always do.
The mist hangs over everything, thick and white. It whirls around his feet as he walks through it. *Fog machine,* he thinks, wryly. He’s never seen it this way before, and he half expects it to cling to his clothes like cotton candy, or a bit of cloud. He’s rather disappointed when he finds he doesn’t have a scrap to bring home.
I am standing outside of the cabin where Alberto Cassie and I are camping early in the morning. They are both still asleep and I walk up to the water and dive in and feel the cool water wash over me and cleanse my soul.
Mist came up form the swamp on the hot summer eve. The monster had been slumbering for days, months, years and now it was hungry. Hungry for the cool air of the night. Hungry for her.
It’s Ireland. Mist. All the time. You walk outside and you’re covered with a fine layer. It’s not something that burns off during the day, but something that sits with you through the morning, afternoon and into the night. Cool, sometimes cold, and sinking into your bones.
The mist swept upon us as we shot the man. It was poetry in the midst of the violence. Something caught at my heart and I knew — I had to change.
I think about waterfalls and Ireland. Or maybe heavy precipitation. Or Sierra Mist? Ha ha, I hate Sierra Mist…
Mist is cold. But it’s inviting. I think of cold mornings at summer camps. I think of diving into lakes and swimming among the algae and fish. I love morning mist. It makes me think of childhood, better times.
usually occurs in the morning just as your trying to get to work or school or somewhere broing that you really dont want to be.. and to just top the bad morning and the mood your probably in youll have the mist added to it all.
She walked through the mist eerily lit up by the ceramic moon and soft waves caressing the shiny surfaces of the shingles…..
The mist of tired through which you can’t see anything bar the woods of sleep. Careful, you who tread brashly, that you meander wisely for many have been known never to emerge.