There was a nest in a tree filled with the most beautiful blue eggs. These eggs belonged to a mama Robin bird, who was perched above her home, surveying her babies lovingly. Papa Robin was out getting food for his loving mate. This was going to be a nice family.
Her nest was so small I almost missed it. Right on the front porch, under the eaves. She was a Mourning Dove. I knew she’d been hanging around for awhile, but when I realized she had a next in the porch ceiling, I started paying more attention to her.
there was a time when I was young
in my nest of blankets on saturday mornings
watching the same cartoons over and over again
I had seen almost every episode of every show they played
but I didn’t mind
I just said the words along with the characters
and lived
The nest of children is full of blood and bits of flesh. Once upon a time there were children here, in this nest, laughing gaily and playing like there’s no tomorrow. Which is true: there will be no tomorrow for them. Tonight the hawk will come and take his fill, once again proving the strength of the food chain – the strong live and the weak will die.
beneath that nest of hair, i knew there was a heart. She may not act like she has one because she knows what it’s like to have it shattered. But I know I can put it back together. And that was my mission. She became my muse in just that first glance of her sitting alone at the bar, obviously underaged, with her black thigh high boots. I knew she was my muse.
birds lay their eggs in this, its all bushly and prickly and brown, i made ones that you can eat from dessicated coconut and melted chocolate.yum. also dad has a liverpool apartment named after this, actually its in leeds not liverpool :-/ *tweet tweet* nom regurgitated worms
I make a nest for my baby to sleep in. That’s something we all do. Birds and people and all animals. That’s amazing. The whole instinct thing. Truly amazing how all the peices fit together and we’re born knowing how to make a nest. Thank God we don’t lay eggs. That would be weird. Maybe slightly less painful though. Who knows? I’m not a bird. Whatever.
She cupped her hands like a nest, smiling a smile which, face perched precariously as it was on her tiny little angular shoulders, made her look somewhat top heavy. The white and milky raindrops clung snugly to the white door frame, and one pearl slipped eagerly into her little dry hands.
a nest is something hard to leave. it is the hearth of life. the home which you are just waiting to become a part of of. each wants their own and end up leaving what was truly theirs. can you believe that one day you will to? Are you ready to?
Nest. This word can be percieved as so many things, with so mnay different meanings. Maybe it means home, to birds or maybe humans. Nests are made up of many different things depending on the species of bird. Shiny objects, straw and hay, grass…all collected from other parts of the area, the world.
birds have children in nests. they lay eggs. an empty nest is not something that i ever want. i think i always need people around me. its hard to be home alone. i want a family. i want children. i want a husband first though. i want to have a life that at the end of it, when my kids are all gone. the nest will be a happy place.
There is a nest in our fir tree outside our front window. It is a magpie nest and it is raaather big. They are in and out of it and when their babies hatch they are incredibly noisy, but fun to watch. The parents are constantly dive bombing our cats because they fear them for their babies.
My home is where I am happiest. When it’s clean, feathered and filled with friends and family I bloom, I glow, I radiate. Nothing fills me with more joy than a nest full of love.
a nest. a home. a week ago it was. yesterday it was close to it. today you’re gone. i can’t believe i have to live without you. you are the love of my life. no one will ever take your place and all i can do is pray that you walk through that door. i don’t want to live in this empty nest.
You claim you belong in my nest, huddled there like a child in bed; you claim that my nest is like your very own locket, something you only wish you could have, to keep close to your chest. But if my nest is so very important to you, then why do you spend so many nights crying while you sleep in it? I am angry with the way your wings spread but do not take off- and so, with all the strength I can muster, as a mother, I must make a fateful decision and push you
off
to see if you really can fly.
The nest was set upon a tree, the nest was old, not used any longer. The feathers of the previous inhabitant lay strewn through the nest, tangled in the old, twigs which ones was a home. It is interesting how it, just like a decrepit home; yet is shown no respect, not seen as a home, not respected for what it is, what it was.
i want a nest. i nest in my heart, a place to call home. home is when im with you, which i really never get to be too much. my nest would be here, listening to bright eyes. which is what im doing as i write, i just wish you were here, too. i miss you, my nest maker.
I want to nest in my bed right now. I rather not sit here at work, although I am getting paid for just sitting here lolligaggin’.
Somedays, I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep all day, just let one day go without me. I may feel better after nesting under my covers.
the bird layed an egg in the nest. it soon hatched to becom a fuzzy little creatur that enjoyed small worms and other bugs. laugh smile fight rest, the baby rested on his pillow as he layed down to sleep.
birds make these, often out of sticks a spit, Japanese people try to import these often into Australia, and they are not allowed…but still try. Birds probs spend a lot of time making these and then one they get big baby birds they just forget about them.
purple black simple text is there and it shows the text when you enter the screen. it reminds me of comtech because it works like that. typography and such. how long do i have to write about this because i don’t kn ow what else to say about one word. it is just one word after all.
A nest is a place where eggs are kept safe and held till the birth of a animal. This animal is safe in this nest until the day it is big enough to venture out in the world. The nest was a good starting ground and it will always be called home, now nests can be made with many different kinds of items to help it become stabilized, strong, and safe for the eggs.
On the edge of the nest
the willow hearted chick
neck twisted to the wind
grips with wool talons
a twig protruding like an witch’s finger
until the currents cast a spell
of levitation on hollow bones
lean, step, spread, fly
for the first time, or die
moving out of the nest is one really scary thing to think about. I think I will be happier because I won’t have to worry about hiding things I don’t want to share, but it will also be scary to be on my own. Oh well, one more year and I will have to face it either way.
where birds put their eggs. Birds build nests to house their young and construct them by gathering debris and trash from around their habitat. popular items for a nest include pine needles, hair, grass, stems, and leaves. Sometimes animals are referred to as nesting when they make themselves comfortable. Pregnant women are said to “nest” by making their house ready for a new baby, such as installing a nursery or baby-proofing. Nest is one letter different than next.
where a bird lives. where it is born. home. but not just for birds, for squirrels, racoons, dinosoars, penguins. maybe even humans. but we dont call it a nest. we call it a house. but it serves the same purpose. its the starting point of learning to walk, or fly. or both. so in a way, its very important. without this nest, this home, you dont have a way of evolving into yourself. sometimes nests are poorly built, or have bad materials, which can effect the way you learn to walk or fly.maybe your nest is missing something. or someone, like a family member, such as a parent or sibling. that can also effect your learning. maybe your nest is located someplace unusual, or different from everybody else’s nest. but you dont let that stop you. no. you hear those piercing noises from the other nests, the piercing noises of laughter aimed at yourself, but you dont let that stop you. instead, you spread your wings and fly. you fly from your nest. maybe you have to come back, and learn to fly again, or maybe you make a new one. but you always have a nest. somewhere, somehow. and you are always welcome. because it’s where you learn to fly.
Nest. ahh, nests. Its a home, isnt it? we all strive towards building ourselves the perfect home. You might not know it; maybe you’re young and dont care, but you know you want the partner, the job.
I snuggled down, completely immersing myself in feathery-soft warmth, my hot chocolate nestled in beside me and my book open beside me, my nose just poking out the top of the duvet. The perfect nest.
the best cosy place for the birds….it helps them to stay away from the harshest of weather…its a place where they find peace…rest and lots of love.the birds build it up with their own tongue grabi
of eggs. the final resting place of a lost soul. security in the most common place. a common place to find in oneself and with no one else to worry about. this is home, and there are numerous places like it. quit searching.
birds. fly flying yes. love. dove. cry. trees in the sky away. friend. field. love love love. nests. birds. flying away. lets go. time. time now. go. fly. move, moving we should be moving. dove. cove. love. love.
the nest that the bird was sitting on was wonderfully wrapped so tight that no baby bird could ever fall out . the nest was magically made by the wizard that was never seen during the night
warm, soft, and cozy. seems odd that a tiny bushel of branches could fit that description. that’s why the concerned first time mother had gathered tiny bits of cotton from the open bathroom window to help soften up the atmosphere for her babies.
Humans are animals too. Some build nests. They fly away and come back and snuggle up at night. Some build burrows and sleep in great piles surrounded by others’ breathing. I sleep in my own cave. And when the sun tried to come inside I roar at it to go away.
There was a nest in a tree filled with the most beautiful blue eggs. These eggs belonged to a mama Robin bird, who was perched above her home, surveying her babies lovingly. Papa Robin was out getting food for his loving mate. This was going to be a nice family.
Her nest was so small I almost missed it. Right on the front porch, under the eaves. She was a Mourning Dove. I knew she’d been hanging around for awhile, but when I realized she had a next in the porch ceiling, I started paying more attention to her.
there was a time when I was young
in my nest of blankets on saturday mornings
watching the same cartoons over and over again
I had seen almost every episode of every show they played
but I didn’t mind
I just said the words along with the characters
and lived
Nestled in
her nest,
tucked away deep
holding in her emotions
pushing people away.
Snuggled up
in her nest
looking out
over the world
waiting for the day
she’ll take a leap
and fly.
The nest
grows old
she grows stronger
there’s nothing holding her back now
she takes
a leap;
and flies.
The nest is
gone,
it’s behind her
she’s in the sky.
She says goodbye
and never turns her head.
She’s fine now,
on her own
flying through the sky.
The nest of children is full of blood and bits of flesh. Once upon a time there were children here, in this nest, laughing gaily and playing like there’s no tomorrow. Which is true: there will be no tomorrow for them. Tonight the hawk will come and take his fill, once again proving the strength of the food chain – the strong live and the weak will die.
beneath that nest of hair, i knew there was a heart. She may not act like she has one because she knows what it’s like to have it shattered. But I know I can put it back together. And that was my mission. She became my muse in just that first glance of her sitting alone at the bar, obviously underaged, with her black thigh high boots. I knew she was my muse.
birds lay their eggs in this, its all bushly and prickly and brown, i made ones that you can eat from dessicated coconut and melted chocolate.yum. also dad has a liverpool apartment named after this, actually its in leeds not liverpool :-/ *tweet tweet* nom regurgitated worms
I make a nest for my baby to sleep in. That’s something we all do. Birds and people and all animals. That’s amazing. The whole instinct thing. Truly amazing how all the peices fit together and we’re born knowing how to make a nest. Thank God we don’t lay eggs. That would be weird. Maybe slightly less painful though. Who knows? I’m not a bird. Whatever.
She cupped her hands like a nest, smiling a smile which, face perched precariously as it was on her tiny little angular shoulders, made her look somewhat top heavy. The white and milky raindrops clung snugly to the white door frame, and one pearl slipped eagerly into her little dry hands.
a nest is something hard to leave. it is the hearth of life. the home which you are just waiting to become a part of of. each wants their own and end up leaving what was truly theirs. can you believe that one day you will to? Are you ready to?
Nest. This word can be percieved as so many things, with so mnay different meanings. Maybe it means home, to birds or maybe humans. Nests are made up of many different things depending on the species of bird. Shiny objects, straw and hay, grass…all collected from other parts of the area, the world.
birds have children in nests. they lay eggs. an empty nest is not something that i ever want. i think i always need people around me. its hard to be home alone. i want a family. i want children. i want a husband first though. i want to have a life that at the end of it, when my kids are all gone. the nest will be a happy place.
There is a nest in our fir tree outside our front window. It is a magpie nest and it is raaather big. They are in and out of it and when their babies hatch they are incredibly noisy, but fun to watch. The parents are constantly dive bombing our cats because they fear them for their babies.
My home is where I am happiest. When it’s clean, feathered and filled with friends and family I bloom, I glow, I radiate. Nothing fills me with more joy than a nest full of love.
a nest. a home. a week ago it was. yesterday it was close to it. today you’re gone. i can’t believe i have to live without you. you are the love of my life. no one will ever take your place and all i can do is pray that you walk through that door. i don’t want to live in this empty nest.
perhaps it is just life
that beneath the nest of newborn birds
the cat prowls
You claim you belong in my nest, huddled there like a child in bed; you claim that my nest is like your very own locket, something you only wish you could have, to keep close to your chest. But if my nest is so very important to you, then why do you spend so many nights crying while you sleep in it? I am angry with the way your wings spread but do not take off- and so, with all the strength I can muster, as a mother, I must make a fateful decision and push you
off
to see if you really can fly.
The nest was set upon a tree, the nest was old, not used any longer. The feathers of the previous inhabitant lay strewn through the nest, tangled in the old, twigs which ones was a home. It is interesting how it, just like a decrepit home; yet is shown no respect, not seen as a home, not respected for what it is, what it was.
the nest that i dreamed of was destroyed today as it was the last day that we were gonna see each other……
the end
“leave the nest. leave the nest. leave the nest”.
I’ve heard it a thousand times. It wasn’t directed at me but it always made me think, “what if it was?”.
i want a nest. i nest in my heart, a place to call home. home is when im with you, which i really never get to be too much. my nest would be here, listening to bright eyes. which is what im doing as i write, i just wish you were here, too. i miss you, my nest maker.
I want to nest in my bed right now. I rather not sit here at work, although I am getting paid for just sitting here lolligaggin’.
Somedays, I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep all day, just let one day go without me. I may feel better after nesting under my covers.
the bird layed an egg in the nest. it soon hatched to becom a fuzzy little creatur that enjoyed small worms and other bugs. laugh smile fight rest, the baby rested on his pillow as he layed down to sleep.
birds make these, often out of sticks a spit, Japanese people try to import these often into Australia, and they are not allowed…but still try. Birds probs spend a lot of time making these and then one they get big baby birds they just forget about them.
purple black simple text is there and it shows the text when you enter the screen. it reminds me of comtech because it works like that. typography and such. how long do i have to write about this because i don’t kn ow what else to say about one word. it is just one word after all.
A nest is a place where eggs are kept safe and held till the birth of a animal. This animal is safe in this nest until the day it is big enough to venture out in the world. The nest was a good starting ground and it will always be called home, now nests can be made with many different kinds of items to help it become stabilized, strong, and safe for the eggs.
On the edge of the nest
the willow hearted chick
neck twisted to the wind
grips with wool talons
a twig protruding like an witch’s finger
until the currents cast a spell
of levitation on hollow bones
lean, step, spread, fly
for the first time, or die
moving out of the nest is one really scary thing to think about. I think I will be happier because I won’t have to worry about hiding things I don’t want to share, but it will also be scary to be on my own. Oh well, one more year and I will have to face it either way.
where birds put their eggs. Birds build nests to house their young and construct them by gathering debris and trash from around their habitat. popular items for a nest include pine needles, hair, grass, stems, and leaves. Sometimes animals are referred to as nesting when they make themselves comfortable. Pregnant women are said to “nest” by making their house ready for a new baby, such as installing a nursery or baby-proofing. Nest is one letter different than next.
where a bird lives. where it is born. home. but not just for birds, for squirrels, racoons, dinosoars, penguins. maybe even humans. but we dont call it a nest. we call it a house. but it serves the same purpose. its the starting point of learning to walk, or fly. or both. so in a way, its very important. without this nest, this home, you dont have a way of evolving into yourself. sometimes nests are poorly built, or have bad materials, which can effect the way you learn to walk or fly.maybe your nest is missing something. or someone, like a family member, such as a parent or sibling. that can also effect your learning. maybe your nest is located someplace unusual, or different from everybody else’s nest. but you dont let that stop you. no. you hear those piercing noises from the other nests, the piercing noises of laughter aimed at yourself, but you dont let that stop you. instead, you spread your wings and fly. you fly from your nest. maybe you have to come back, and learn to fly again, or maybe you make a new one. but you always have a nest. somewhere, somehow. and you are always welcome. because it’s where you learn to fly.
Nest. ahh, nests. Its a home, isnt it? we all strive towards building ourselves the perfect home. You might not know it; maybe you’re young and dont care, but you know you want the partner, the job.
I snuggled down, completely immersing myself in feathery-soft warmth, my hot chocolate nestled in beside me and my book open beside me, my nose just poking out the top of the duvet. The perfect nest.
the best cosy place for the birds….it helps them to stay away from the harshest of weather…its a place where they find peace…rest and lots of love.the birds build it up with their own tongue grabi
birds mom biology straw kittens little birds blue home mom dad heat heart beak food worms small
of eggs. the final resting place of a lost soul. security in the most common place. a common place to find in oneself and with no one else to worry about. this is home, and there are numerous places like it. quit searching.
birds. fly flying yes. love. dove. cry. trees in the sky away. friend. field. love love love. nests. birds. flying away. lets go. time. time now. go. fly. move, moving we should be moving. dove. cove. love. love.
the nest that the bird was sitting on was wonderfully wrapped so tight that no baby bird could ever fall out . the nest was magically made by the wizard that was never seen during the night
warm, soft, and cozy. seems odd that a tiny bushel of branches could fit that description. that’s why the concerned first time mother had gathered tiny bits of cotton from the open bathroom window to help soften up the atmosphere for her babies.
Humans are animals too. Some build nests. They fly away and come back and snuggle up at night. Some build burrows and sleep in great piles surrounded by others’ breathing. I sleep in my own cave. And when the sun tried to come inside I roar at it to go away.
the tiny baby birds teetered on the edge of the nest, waiting for their mother to return with the day’s meal