i feel like i have no port. like i’m kinda lost at sea. maybe like a little boat. like a tug boat. maybe because i’m thirty and still see myself as a lost little kid. talk about arrested development, right? but yeah. i’m like a little tug boat. with no port to doc at.
I gazed out into the sunrise, thinking of how badly I fucked up. I had the perfect chance to kiss her, right there. Not perversely, but in such a way that maybe he would fall in love with me too. I sighed and threw a starfish into the ocean, and started walking back to port.
There was immense opening in the ocean. It was hard to see at first but once I sailed closer I could tell it was a man-made port. I didn’t know where it led but it didn’t matter. I wanted to leave this place. It looked like it was thousands of years old. It could have led anywhere.
ships come in and out and it is a great red wine, the port of call of the sailors lead them into town to find out what kind of mischief they can get into. the port of the sea side is a great place to visit.
The port was full of ships. Some waiting to dock others waiting to leave. People milled around the port’s docks for similar reasons. It was a place of both building excitement and terrible heartache.
Oh the port. Or the portal, which would be a better known term to you. The port was our friend. It helped us sneak out when we were kids. Past our bed time, of course. It was more than a device to go run outside late at night. It helps us travel to this day. But when we were kids, we had a blast. That was until it was locked up when our bed time hit. They caught us.
I looked to the port side of the ship, and I saw the back of a whale as it went back down into the water. I called Dennis over.
“I can’t believe I just saw one! I love being out at sea!”
to enter his house we needed to go threw the portal. The door wasnt like any other, it was inside a tree. hidden. disguised. secret words, phrases anything she could think of didn’t work.
Oh the port. That’s what we called our portal. It was shorter, by only two letters, but that’s what we called it. It was our friend. Since we were young. We’d use the port to get in and out. This would be without our parents knowing of course. We were feisty little children. But, they eventually found out one day and the port was closed when it was our bed time.
ports are everywhere around the oceans. oceans separate us from other beings. those other beings could potentially be our husbands or wives. birth our children. live in our homes. without ports you wouldn’t be here.
Could be a wine. Could be a boat. Lets go with boat.Actually, I would love a new word. Why would they pick one so boring? Couldn’t it be a little more interesting
Port is the left side of a sail boat. I love sailing boats. It brings back good memories of this summer. Teaching little children the parts of the boats is a very fun thing to do. I love sailing.
There was a sickening feeling curled in the bottom of my stomach. We had arrived at port and the wind had picked up, blowing salty sea air across my cheeks and stinging my eyes. This was it…
The airport was full of people bustling about, trying to find their correct way. Some don’t know where they are going, some don’t know who they are trying to find, and some are experts. The experts are the ones that I liked to look at the most. They seemed so calm, so cool, so collected at the airport. It’s such a curious place to feel at ease, is it not?
I came into port on a Tuesday, waiting for someone to meet and greet me. Instead of a bouquet I was met face to face with the alleys and streets slicken with rain. All this while I was seeing your face, hearing your name, feeling your touch in my sleep. Insomnia led me here to your home, to our past, to the roots of where we grew from. We’re like the leaves that shed from trees, some ready and some overdue.
the port opened to a sea of goods coming from miles away. Unfortunately, most people smuggled illegal items across the vast ocean. They found ways to create income from what others labeled as filth, taint, and poison.
Portland. I went there on a school trip this past year, and had I not gone, I wouldn’t have met the guy that later became my first quasi-boyfriend. I remember landing in the airport and noticing that it said “Welcome to Portland” on a baggage cart. For some reason that struck me as odd. It felt like I was getting in touch with history in some weird way–I hadn’t really thought ports continued to exist out of colonial necessity. Is that odd?
the port on the bay was just miles away from he. She reached for the air as she thought of the adventure that will await her. He was there but would he want her too? Would he want her as much as she wanted him? Only time will tell.
The port has sailed. Swept by hurricane winds, lifting it clear off the shore. Ships caught in it’s wake clink and crumple against the crashing waves, like tin cans on the back of a newly wed car bound for a beginning.
The port today was incredibly full with different types of ships. The ones that caught my eye most were the ships that were filled with eyepatches and swords. They intrigued me enough that I wanted to join in on the fun.
Like in those little towns by the sea. The ships come into port to deliver cargo or passengers or whatever else it is they are carrying. I love being by the sea. I love smelling it’s salty aroma and being surrounded by enormous amounts of sea food :) i feel at home by the sea :)
port. like a portal? i have a portal. it leads to austitties lair. it’s always steamy in there. i like to think it’s because i’m so sexy. i doubt that though. no one with three nipples could be sexy. i’m always alone.
As I was arriving into the city I could see the port looming in the distance. You could heard all the sails clanking against the other random wooden things on ships and see all the fisherman preparing for the market early in the morning. Though it was midnight the harbor was bustling with people.
Right, it’s time to visit the children. Pass the port. You don’t expect I’ll do it sober, do you Franklin. Ugly bunch of tossers, can’t believe they’re mine. Still, mustn’t grumble. At least it’s dark in the cells.
you left me there
unable to breath
drawn inward
in the sheer pain of the moment
tears streaming down my face
how could you
you left me in this moment
stuck at the airport
with only my luggage in hand
and no one was there
no
you left me there
I dropped him off at the port by the ferry and hoped to god that I would see him again. Keeping in contact was easy these days wasn’t it? This couldn’t just be a summer fling. Something had happened this summer, and I didn’t know how exactly to describe it, but I knew it was amazing.
My favorite place to go is the beach. Ive been in love with it since I was a little girl. I’ve recently experienced boating. The sight if all the boats leaving and entering and sleeping in the port is breathtaking to me.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving … for a whole six months,” Louise sighed as they stood at the port for the ship going to Europe. “Hey,” john smiled, “chin up. I’ll be back before you know it.” And he kissed her. The most passionate kiss she had ever felt.
When I hear the word port, I think of sailors, and the ocean and ships. I imagine a sunset over the water. I can picture a vast, endless horizon that stretches as far as the eye can see. I’ve never been to sea. I think the vastness of it would frighten me.
“A safe port in a storm” the sign promises. But by the looks of the place, it’s not any safer than staying out here on the street. The paint is cracked, peeling; the door looks like it’s bee almost kicked in… I think it’s better to find any other “safe” harbor.
The port is the place where I sit and look out onto the harbor. The dark blue sea taunts me, rich with beauty and mystique. The secrets it holds are ones I cannot fathom. I will never be as wise, I let the sea breeze tickle my face. I smile.
port reminds me of where boats go
no, that’s a pier
portal?
yes
parent portal, where i check my grades
portkey?
portkeys in harry potter, leading him to the graveyard
shoe portkey
port
i feel like i have no port. like i’m kinda lost at sea. maybe like a little boat. like a tug boat. maybe because i’m thirty and still see myself as a lost little kid. talk about arrested development, right? but yeah. i’m like a little tug boat. with no port to doc at.
I gazed out into the sunrise, thinking of how badly I fucked up. I had the perfect chance to kiss her, right there. Not perversely, but in such a way that maybe he would fall in love with me too. I sighed and threw a starfish into the ocean, and started walking back to port.
There was immense opening in the ocean. It was hard to see at first but once I sailed closer I could tell it was a man-made port. I didn’t know where it led but it didn’t matter. I wanted to leave this place. It looked like it was thousands of years old. It could have led anywhere.
ships come in and out and it is a great red wine, the port of call of the sailors lead them into town to find out what kind of mischief they can get into. the port of the sea side is a great place to visit.
The port was full of ships. Some waiting to dock others waiting to leave. People milled around the port’s docks for similar reasons. It was a place of both building excitement and terrible heartache.
Oh the port. Or the portal, which would be a better known term to you. The port was our friend. It helped us sneak out when we were kids. Past our bed time, of course. It was more than a device to go run outside late at night. It helps us travel to this day. But when we were kids, we had a blast. That was until it was locked up when our bed time hit. They caught us.
I looked to the port side of the ship, and I saw the back of a whale as it went back down into the water. I called Dennis over.
“I can’t believe I just saw one! I love being out at sea!”
to enter his house we needed to go threw the portal. The door wasnt like any other, it was inside a tree. hidden. disguised. secret words, phrases anything she could think of didn’t work.
Oh the port. That’s what we called our portal. It was shorter, by only two letters, but that’s what we called it. It was our friend. Since we were young. We’d use the port to get in and out. This would be without our parents knowing of course. We were feisty little children. But, they eventually found out one day and the port was closed when it was our bed time.
The port of spain is where the pirates arrive and steal your crap. Yeah I have no idea why the port is so awesome I love boats. this is so hard to do
ports are everywhere around the oceans. oceans separate us from other beings. those other beings could potentially be our husbands or wives. birth our children. live in our homes. without ports you wouldn’t be here.
Could be a wine. Could be a boat. Lets go with boat.Actually, I would love a new word. Why would they pick one so boring? Couldn’t it be a little more interesting
Port is the left side of a sail boat. I love sailing boats. It brings back good memories of this summer. Teaching little children the parts of the boats is a very fun thing to do. I love sailing.
A safe harbour for people of the sea. Splintery wood and sharp rusty nails. An escape from rough weather at sea.
A place where ships sell there goods. Fisherman flinging their catches. Long ropes knotted and tied. Sails and masts expertley stored.
There was a sickening feeling curled in the bottom of my stomach. We had arrived at port and the wind had picked up, blowing salty sea air across my cheeks and stinging my eyes. This was it…
The airport was full of people bustling about, trying to find their correct way. Some don’t know where they are going, some don’t know who they are trying to find, and some are experts. The experts are the ones that I liked to look at the most. They seemed so calm, so cool, so collected at the airport. It’s such a curious place to feel at ease, is it not?
I came into port on a Tuesday, waiting for someone to meet and greet me. Instead of a bouquet I was met face to face with the alleys and streets slicken with rain. All this while I was seeing your face, hearing your name, feeling your touch in my sleep. Insomnia led me here to your home, to our past, to the roots of where we grew from. We’re like the leaves that shed from trees, some ready and some overdue.
the port opened to a sea of goods coming from miles away. Unfortunately, most people smuggled illegal items across the vast ocean. They found ways to create income from what others labeled as filth, taint, and poison.
Portland. I went there on a school trip this past year, and had I not gone, I wouldn’t have met the guy that later became my first quasi-boyfriend. I remember landing in the airport and noticing that it said “Welcome to Portland” on a baggage cart. For some reason that struck me as odd. It felt like I was getting in touch with history in some weird way–I hadn’t really thought ports continued to exist out of colonial necessity. Is that odd?
the port on the bay was just miles away from he. She reached for the air as she thought of the adventure that will await her. He was there but would he want her too? Would he want her as much as she wanted him? Only time will tell.
The port has sailed. Swept by hurricane winds, lifting it clear off the shore. Ships caught in it’s wake clink and crumple against the crashing waves, like tin cans on the back of a newly wed car bound for a beginning.
The port today was incredibly full with different types of ships. The ones that caught my eye most were the ships that were filled with eyepatches and swords. They intrigued me enough that I wanted to join in on the fun.
Like in those little towns by the sea. The ships come into port to deliver cargo or passengers or whatever else it is they are carrying. I love being by the sea. I love smelling it’s salty aroma and being surrounded by enormous amounts of sea food :) i feel at home by the sea :)
port. like a portal? i have a portal. it leads to austitties lair. it’s always steamy in there. i like to think it’s because i’m so sexy. i doubt that though. no one with three nipples could be sexy. i’m always alone.
The sea extending out to the horizon. Waiting to board the massive vessel. Standing on the dock of the most beautiful port ever.
I don’t want port again. You already gave me this word. Fail.
As I was arriving into the city I could see the port looming in the distance. You could heard all the sails clanking against the other random wooden things on ships and see all the fisherman preparing for the market early in the morning. Though it was midnight the harbor was bustling with people.
Right, it’s time to visit the children. Pass the port. You don’t expect I’ll do it sober, do you Franklin. Ugly bunch of tossers, can’t believe they’re mine. Still, mustn’t grumble. At least it’s dark in the cells.
you left me there
unable to breath
drawn inward
in the sheer pain of the moment
tears streaming down my face
how could you
you left me in this moment
stuck at the airport
with only my luggage in hand
and no one was there
no
you left me there
I dropped him off at the port by the ferry and hoped to god that I would see him again. Keeping in contact was easy these days wasn’t it? This couldn’t just be a summer fling. Something had happened this summer, and I didn’t know how exactly to describe it, but I knew it was amazing.
My favorite place to go is the beach. Ive been in love with it since I was a little girl. I’ve recently experienced boating. The sight if all the boats leaving and entering and sleeping in the port is breathtaking to me.
I remember the seaport in Camotes, Cebu. I miss the tranquility, the peace. I want to escape just for a while.
Port. I honestly don’t know what to write about the word port. I’m just really glad tomorrow is friday.
a boat is safe in its port.
i am safe in your arms.
but that’s not what boats are for.
you don’t let me be who i need to be.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving … for a whole six months,” Louise sighed as they stood at the port for the ship going to Europe. “Hey,” john smiled, “chin up. I’ll be back before you know it.” And he kissed her. The most passionate kiss she had ever felt.
When I hear the word port, I think of sailors, and the ocean and ships. I imagine a sunset over the water. I can picture a vast, endless horizon that stretches as far as the eye can see. I’ve never been to sea. I think the vastness of it would frighten me.
“A safe port in a storm” the sign promises. But by the looks of the place, it’s not any safer than staying out here on the street. The paint is cracked, peeling; the door looks like it’s bee almost kicked in… I think it’s better to find any other “safe” harbor.
The port is the place where I sit and look out onto the harbor. The dark blue sea taunts me, rich with beauty and mystique. The secrets it holds are ones I cannot fathom. I will never be as wise, I let the sea breeze tickle my face. I smile.
port reminds me of where boats go
no, that’s a pier
portal?
yes
parent portal, where i check my grades
portkey?
portkeys in harry potter, leading him to the graveyard
shoe portkey
port