Roger brought out his best port from the cool darkness, just as he hoped to draw Miss Sterngren out of her shell so as to hear of her truest passions. He had shown up at the library most days of the past six months and it had taken this long to gain her trust such that she agreed to have dinner with him at his penthouse apartment. Roger approached Miss Sterngren with the port and bowed slightly, “Madam?” She breathed in abruptly and seized her purse. “Ply me with drink, will you, you boor?!” She pulled out her mace and sprayed it in Roger’s face. “Back, you beast!” As he clutched his face and staggered about the room wailing, she tasted the port. It was the finest. She grabbed the bottle and left for home to enjoy it in private.
Port would be a horrible name too have. I cant think of any ports except for Port Isabel, but i cant remember the significance of it if its good or bad. It sounds pretty though, i wish i was there and not here. Thats for sure.
When I was six I went to a seaside port with the parents, I had candyfloss, my sister had a hot dog but dropped it on some seaweed. Then we went to the aquarium, I liked the dolphins but when I saw the squid I slipped on a puddle and hurt my head and my hair went all curly from being wet. Mum told me that sea creatures have magical powers and my hair would never be straight again, she was right.
As we sailed into port I couldn’t conceal my excitement. This trip had been wonderful. The schooner was beautiful and sailing from the US to Tahiti was a dream come true but in the middle of the ocean every one became very quiet, as if they knew they were in the very middle of the sea and were as far from land as they could ever be. So sailing into port I couldn’t wait to get off that boat and touch ground again. My feet tingled when they stood on terra firma again.
I went down to the port to watch the ships come in, as I do every day. I just keep watching, waiting. I don’t know what for. No one and nothing ever comes for me, it’s not as if I’m waiting for something in particular. I’m just waiting and watching.
Off in the distance, somewhere near the depth of the horizon or the end of the earth, the name innocent enough, port. Inviting, yet pushing away, calming, yet full of shadows, enticing as though, do you dare.
Any in a storm, but not always a place. A family, a person, a friend. I’ve lost mine, and here I drift aimlessly without her.I expect to feel less pain, to notice the gaping hole in my heart getting smaller, but it never does.
The ships sailed closer to the port in the distance. The wooden structure was darkened with water, splattered in uneven spots. The worn color was faded from the wear of the ocean’s anger. But the ships, as large as they were, were lined side by side to make a real and majestic towering structure at the line of the horizon.
Lets go on a cruise. Were going to Austaillia. We drive to the airport, and arive at the port after the plane. WOSH. The wind is magnificent. The water is salty, yet amazing.
Yet, I can only dream.
ports are located near sea shore. they are primarily used for the shipping purposes. Ports are the main source of transportation between different nations by ocean. ports are just like garage to ships and containers.
Port. Airport. I hate airports. They suck. I move too much. Moving sucks. Airports make me nervous. They make me feel like throwing up because I know everything that comes with airports. They suck. Or maybe it’s not airports and it’s just a port and I’m just being stupid. I don’t know, I’m stupid a lot.
Go. I’ve parked my heart – for a while. I will not sail – for a while. The wind has howled too loudly, the waves have licked with poisonous tongues, the moon has enticed and misled, like you, like you. I will let the gentle lap of the water at the shore rub against my body, like a faithful dog licks his master’s hand. I will rest my heart – for a while.
They’ve always told me I was happy with any port in a storm. But as this storm rages, I can think of only one destination that will satisfy. We talked about it last night for the millionth time and got no resolution for the millionth time. Why can’t I let her go? Do I love her or is it only infatuation?
the swelling of the sea. the birds cawing in a rhythmic swirl. the port used to be the center of life-its how we grew as a nation. it’s the breath of fresh air bringing new goods and ideas. it’s too bad the nostalgia has worn off. they were beautiful.
The Dawn Marie was running with a steady northeastern wind into the port city of Neupron. The captain was smiling the sea spray beading and forming rivulets on his long jacket.
Somehow I think of a USB port, Portland, and that port where ships dock. Is that even called a port? Port of July maybe? Or portchop? Portuguese! I can’t think of anyting so I’m just babbling because I missed OneWord. Ha!
when i first saw this i was like wtf? what am i supposed to write about? i still dont know what to write. *sigh* oh well. port. shipping port. time portal. yay.
Stars boarded the vessel’s bow. They were so heavy it looked like the ship was doing a booty dance in the harbor. The propellers didn’t even touch the water.
Roger brought out his best port from the cool darkness, just as he hoped to draw Miss Sterngren out of her shell so as to hear of her truest passions. He had shown up at the library most days of the past six months and it had taken this long to gain her trust such that she agreed to have dinner with him at his penthouse apartment. Roger approached Miss Sterngren with the port and bowed slightly, “Madam?” She breathed in abruptly and seized her purse. “Ply me with drink, will you, you boor?!” She pulled out her mace and sprayed it in Roger’s face. “Back, you beast!” As he clutched his face and staggered about the room wailing, she tasted the port. It was the finest. She grabbed the bottle and left for home to enjoy it in private.
Port would be a horrible name too have. I cant think of any ports except for Port Isabel, but i cant remember the significance of it if its good or bad. It sounds pretty though, i wish i was there and not here. Thats for sure.
When I was six I went to a seaside port with the parents, I had candyfloss, my sister had a hot dog but dropped it on some seaweed. Then we went to the aquarium, I liked the dolphins but when I saw the squid I slipped on a puddle and hurt my head and my hair went all curly from being wet. Mum told me that sea creatures have magical powers and my hair would never be straight again, she was right.
As we sailed into port I couldn’t conceal my excitement. This trip had been wonderful. The schooner was beautiful and sailing from the US to Tahiti was a dream come true but in the middle of the ocean every one became very quiet, as if they knew they were in the very middle of the sea and were as far from land as they could ever be. So sailing into port I couldn’t wait to get off that boat and touch ground again. My feet tingled when they stood on terra firma again.
I went down to the port to watch the ships come in, as I do every day. I just keep watching, waiting. I don’t know what for. No one and nothing ever comes for me, it’s not as if I’m waiting for something in particular. I’m just waiting and watching.
I just want to know what is happening inside
Off in the distance, somewhere near the depth of the horizon or the end of the earth, the name innocent enough, port. Inviting, yet pushing away, calming, yet full of shadows, enticing as though, do you dare.
Any in a storm, but not always a place. A family, a person, a friend. I’ve lost mine, and here I drift aimlessly without her.I expect to feel less pain, to notice the gaping hole in my heart getting smaller, but it never does.
The ships sailed closer to the port in the distance. The wooden structure was darkened with water, splattered in uneven spots. The worn color was faded from the wear of the ocean’s anger. But the ships, as large as they were, were lined side by side to make a real and majestic towering structure at the line of the horizon.
fish people boats food
Lets go on a cruise. Were going to Austaillia. We drive to the airport, and arive at the port after the plane. WOSH. The wind is magnificent. The water is salty, yet amazing.
Yet, I can only dream.
It makes me think of portly. Which means, overwheight.
airport airports are big airports are cool what is a port
a place where a boat can part. and retern.
Niles Capello was famous for his curse
Of getting caught in all sorts of peril
That is until the port men pulled him out
In a flooded wooden barrel
ports are located near sea shore. they are primarily used for the shipping purposes. Ports are the main source of transportation between different nations by ocean. ports are just like garage to ships and containers.
Port. Airport. I hate airports. They suck. I move too much. Moving sucks. Airports make me nervous. They make me feel like throwing up because I know everything that comes with airports. They suck. Or maybe it’s not airports and it’s just a port and I’m just being stupid. I don’t know, I’m stupid a lot.
Is this safety? Is this refuge from life? Does my anchored soul find peace?
Go. I’ve parked my heart – for a while. I will not sail – for a while. The wind has howled too loudly, the waves have licked with poisonous tongues, the moon has enticed and misled, like you, like you. I will let the gentle lap of the water at the shore rub against my body, like a faithful dog licks his master’s hand. I will rest my heart – for a while.
They’ve always told me I was happy with any port in a storm. But as this storm rages, I can think of only one destination that will satisfy. We talked about it last night for the millionth time and got no resolution for the millionth time. Why can’t I let her go? Do I love her or is it only infatuation?
the swelling of the sea. the birds cawing in a rhythmic swirl. the port used to be the center of life-its how we grew as a nation. it’s the breath of fresh air bringing new goods and ideas. it’s too bad the nostalgia has worn off. they were beautiful.
The Dawn Marie was running with a steady northeastern wind into the port city of Neupron. The captain was smiling the sea spray beading and forming rivulets on his long jacket.
Somehow I think of a USB port, Portland, and that port where ships dock. Is that even called a port? Port of July maybe? Or portchop? Portuguese! I can’t think of anyting so I’m just babbling because I missed OneWord. Ha!
a window
small and large
at the
same
time
through which
you CAN
go
but not
necessarily
open
to
possibility
Iceberg off the port side bow capitain. don’t crash into it. oops. the titanc sunk.
when i first saw this i was like wtf? what am i supposed to write about? i still dont know what to write. *sigh* oh well. port. shipping port. time portal. yay.
Stars boarded the vessel’s bow. They were so heavy it looked like the ship was doing a booty dance in the harbor. The propellers didn’t even touch the water.