Root. The root of all her problems was her mother. The mother that had birthed her, but had not raised her. No, she had done that herself. Raised herself and her sister, from the time she was 10 years old and her mother ceased living. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She had all of this anger that had no outlet, no way to get out of her body and it just boiled beneath the surface of her skin, yearning to burst free and…
As I pulled it from the ground, I thought of us, attached yet pulling farther away with each passing day. Damned potatoes making me miss you all over again.
The trees in my yard spread their roots all through the hole we dug with our friends. Despite the fact that it was hard digging we kept at it, we sliced the roots with our backhoes and shovels, we unearthed rocks bigger than our heads.
the root is like the beginning
the source, the creator
but it moves and grows with the body
a body that lives and changes
and abides in its creator
abiding in each other
you and i,
root to tip
root vegetables are good on a cold winters day. Roots was the name of a black poodle I had when I was a kid. The Beastie Boys asked: “How you gonna kick it? Gonna kick it root down”. That’s the root of the matter.
There. In the back of my mouth, right at the root. The dentist is on holidays, and I cant get an appointrment until next week. Sure. That’s fine. I have a loaded gun in the cupboard, locked up safely. Wonder where the bullets are? Can I shoot that little rotter out?
She rooted through the unconscious guard’s wallet, pulling everything out in desperation as she searched for keys. She had to get Rio free–she had to, she had to, the need for it burned like irons in her mind.
“Looking for these, dear?” The voice made Elia jump violently and she spun around, her hidden blades out and ready to go.
“Give me the keys, you bastard.” She spat with narrowed eyes. He simply laughed, and tossed them over the edge of the tower, his laughter growing as Elia let out a strangled cry of dismay.
How would she save Rio now?
Jack pulled me up by the roots, leaving me exposed and helpless. Leaving me alone. Leaving me longing for death. Then, he came. That wonderful man that took pity and replanted me, loving me, caring for me.
There. In the back of my mouth. the dentist is on holidays, and I cant get an appointrment until next week. Sure. That’s fine. I have a loaded gun in the cupboard, locked up safely. Wonder where the bullets are? Can I shoot that little rotter out?
Elle looked hard at the gypsy woman. She had yellow, crooked teeth and her lips were cracked. She was wearing numerous scarves and coats. Elle stuck out her hand. “Please,” She asked, looking at the woman. The woman hesitantly took her hand, palm up, and stared hard at it, tracing it with her overgrown fingernails.
Roots are things that trees have. Root is also like, an origin or something. Most plants have roots. Actually, I think all plants have roots. Potatoes are roots. Carrots might be roots. I’m not really sure. Words have roots, too. I hate roots. They’re stupid. I also think that radishes are roots. I have an album called With Roots Above and Branches Below. It’s by The Devil Wears Prada. Okay.
The plant was still thriving. It had been sitting in the small glass of water for a few days, and within hours had already started creating new roots. By the next day the roots had grown so much that they were wrapping around the stem of the plant.
The old man looked up from the report he’d just been handed. He was shaky and nervous and weary having been deprived of sleep for 48 hours.
“Is this all there is?”
The young man nodded.
“No.” He replied. “No, no, no, no, no. We’ve got to go deeper. We’ve got to get to the root of the problem!”
“These,” he gestured to the photographs and papers on the tabletop, “These are just consequences, we need to find the source.”
The young man stared in disbelief. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed.
“Well I don’t know where else to look!” he cried exasperated. “I’ve done everything I can!”
“Well that’s not good enough!” yelled the old man, slamming his fist on the table. “We’ve got to double, even triple our efforts if we want to catch this guy!”
The young man pursed his lips and held the old man’s angry stare for a minute; then giving a sigh, he bent down to pick up the sheets that had fallen on the floor.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said in a defeated tone as he walked out the door.
The root of all their problems lied in his addiction. He wouldn’t change for her or anybody. She sort of always hoped he would but she couldn’t hide the reality of it all. So she began living the same selfish lifestyle as him. If he could give into his addictions and leave her – why couldn’t she throw it all away too?
The root of the problem was not her ignorance, but his deceiving lies. Of course she was going to believe him, a handsome, young man who told her how beautiful she was, and how flawless she was.
I’m proud of my origin, where tropical palm trees stand tall, where the king of fruits is the durian, spiky green outside and milky yellow inside, and where big families gatherings are in sight. I enjoy the warm breeze and rain every now and then, and hawker stalls with blazing smell of Asian food. Malaysia is my root, forever and always.
It was my company. It’s all because of me that the group is so strong now. I was the one who worked day and night without sleep or food to bring business. I was like the root of this tree.
But, the ones I watered were the ones with Axe. I hoped to be rooted someday for my effort. Emotions are just not a part of this city.
Root, like the things that saturate the corners of my mind, taking, feeling, sensing, consuming all of what is in my head, what drives me, what kills me, what keeps me alive
I bite and chew at you piece by piece, hoping to one day reach the end by tearing at a tendril, to find the puzzle pieces that tear at the sanctity of my soul.
her name was marissa and the roots of her hair never seemed to match the ends. we all made fun of her. after all, she wore a c cup in the fourth grade. i wish i could go back so i could write about her differently now.
The root of the problem is me, I know it is. It’s my depression, it’s my dependency on these escape mechanisms. It’s my diet, it’s my lack of exercise, it’s my total lack of excitement for anything ever– except in rare circumstances where I actually feel powerful emotions rushing through my chest. It isn’t anyone else, it’s me. Any girl would be lucky to have what I have- someone who loves as deeply as he does, someone to want me as much as he wants me. And all I’m doing it is throwing it away, like everything else in my life. I know what I do, but I do it all the same.
The root of all evils. You hear that a lot, especially in reference to the devil. However, I think it’s important to note that the devil does not exist, and therefore the root(s) of all evils lies within our very own souls. The root is the source.
roots
they’re like the lap of a mother, you bask in her warmth and before you know it you’re spilling over her and growing tall, soon too tall to sit in her sanctity anymore, and you grow strong, but never forget that she is who kept you grounded, she whom your roots stretch from
The root of all evil is love. Love will kill us all one day. No matter how much you care for someone they will break your heart and leave you gasping for breath in the aftermath. Its a slow acting poison that gets in your veins and kills you slowly overtime. You feel this euphoria when it begins but once its over, you feel like your heart has exploded in your chest. The pain is unbearable and you feel like theres nothing else to live for, yet you see the person you love living on without you and they seem perfectly happy…
Trees and stuff. I need to let my dog out. Ahww, she’s sleeping, never mind. I’ll wake her up in an hour or so. Anyway. What was I talking about? Right, trees. There’s a bunch of trees around my property. We had to cut some down so that we would get more sunlight on the pool. I love my pool. Wait, gotta focus on trees…I wanna go swimming.
I picture treasures hidden in the roots of trees. Or underneath them. They can stretch out so far and so long….
I hid a couple of “treasures” once. Money. Just because. I knew exactly where I’d buried each and there was something almost magical about returning to those spots over a year later and finding everything exactly how and where I’d left it. Somehow, I’d expected my jars of money to be gone. I don’t know why. But they weren’t. They were there. Exactly how I’d buried them. There was something immensely comforting in that.
The root of all evil is money, but i really think its love. Love will kill us all one day. No matter how much you care for someone they will break your heart and leave you gasping for breath in the aftermath. Its a slow acting poison that gets in your veins and kills you slowly overtime. You feel this euphoria when it begins but once its over, you feel like your heart has exploded in your chest.
Where does the root start? Is it the root of all evil? The root of the problem? Or simply the root of a beautiful sunflower? We will never know what root they are talking about. I just know that the root is the beginning. If you want a strong life, find the root of it. Try and live your life like that. Roots are powerful because they hold the rest of you up.
Root. The root of all her problems was her mother. The mother that had birthed her, but had not raised her. No, she had done that herself. Raised herself and her sister, from the time she was 10 years old and her mother ceased living. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She had all of this anger that had no outlet, no way to get out of her body and it just boiled beneath the surface of her skin, yearning to burst free and…
Kill everything around her.
As I pulled it from the ground, I thought of us, attached yet pulling farther away with each passing day. Damned potatoes making me miss you all over again.
The root is the foundation, much like a skeleton. It is what supports the entire system, and it is from the root, that beauty stems.
The trees in my yard spread their roots all through the hole we dug with our friends. Despite the fact that it was hard digging we kept at it, we sliced the roots with our backhoes and shovels, we unearthed rocks bigger than our heads.
Roots, sprawling across the grass.
You’re sitting under the tree that’s older than your house. Book in hand and sun in the sky, it’s as if everything was created for you.
(bugs crawling and plants aging and words dancing across the page)
Years and years of sitting in a field, it’s the roots that prove it.
root cause of all evil, all pain
greed, lust for power
desire for more always more
rooted deep in human nature
never enough
always more
the root is like the beginning
the source, the creator
but it moves and grows with the body
a body that lives and changes
and abides in its creator
abiding in each other
you and i,
root to tip
root vegetables are good on a cold winters day. Roots was the name of a black poodle I had when I was a kid. The Beastie Boys asked: “How you gonna kick it? Gonna kick it root down”. That’s the root of the matter.
There. In the back of my mouth, right at the root. The dentist is on holidays, and I cant get an appointrment until next week. Sure. That’s fine. I have a loaded gun in the cupboard, locked up safely. Wonder where the bullets are? Can I shoot that little rotter out?
She rooted through the unconscious guard’s wallet, pulling everything out in desperation as she searched for keys. She had to get Rio free–she had to, she had to, the need for it burned like irons in her mind.
“Looking for these, dear?” The voice made Elia jump violently and she spun around, her hidden blades out and ready to go.
“Give me the keys, you bastard.” She spat with narrowed eyes. He simply laughed, and tossed them over the edge of the tower, his laughter growing as Elia let out a strangled cry of dismay.
How would she save Rio now?
Jack pulled me up by the roots, leaving me exposed and helpless. Leaving me alone. Leaving me longing for death. Then, he came. That wonderful man that took pity and replanted me, loving me, caring for me.
There. In the back of my mouth. the dentist is on holidays, and I cant get an appointrment until next week. Sure. That’s fine. I have a loaded gun in the cupboard, locked up safely. Wonder where the bullets are? Can I shoot that little rotter out?
Elle looked hard at the gypsy woman. She had yellow, crooked teeth and her lips were cracked. She was wearing numerous scarves and coats. Elle stuck out her hand. “Please,” She asked, looking at the woman. The woman hesitantly took her hand, palm up, and stared hard at it, tracing it with her overgrown fingernails.
Roots are things that trees have. Root is also like, an origin or something. Most plants have roots. Actually, I think all plants have roots. Potatoes are roots. Carrots might be roots. I’m not really sure. Words have roots, too. I hate roots. They’re stupid. I also think that radishes are roots. I have an album called With Roots Above and Branches Below. It’s by The Devil Wears Prada. Okay.
I tripped over the root of an old oak as i chased my dog around the block. I looked up to see a man petting my dog, Charlie.
too mong by the rave
klunk the wist hally m
try and tie… gluck form
too t
root and riot
raise your voice
dig for meaning in the void
your are your last hope
your best hope
depending on anyone else is simple a failure
A grubby little warthog scavenged about in the woods. Turning the dirt with his stumpy tusks, he rooted out all his favorite kinds of grub.
The plant was still thriving. It had been sitting in the small glass of water for a few days, and within hours had already started creating new roots. By the next day the roots had grown so much that they were wrapping around the stem of the plant.
The old man looked up from the report he’d just been handed. He was shaky and nervous and weary having been deprived of sleep for 48 hours.
“Is this all there is?”
The young man nodded.
“No.” He replied. “No, no, no, no, no. We’ve got to go deeper. We’ve got to get to the root of the problem!”
“These,” he gestured to the photographs and papers on the tabletop, “These are just consequences, we need to find the source.”
The young man stared in disbelief. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed.
“Well I don’t know where else to look!” he cried exasperated. “I’ve done everything I can!”
“Well that’s not good enough!” yelled the old man, slamming his fist on the table. “We’ve got to double, even triple our efforts if we want to catch this guy!”
The young man pursed his lips and held the old man’s angry stare for a minute; then giving a sigh, he bent down to pick up the sheets that had fallen on the floor.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said in a defeated tone as he walked out the door.
The root of all their problems lied in his addiction. He wouldn’t change for her or anybody. She sort of always hoped he would but she couldn’t hide the reality of it all. So she began living the same selfish lifestyle as him. If he could give into his addictions and leave her – why couldn’t she throw it all away too?
The root of the problem was not her ignorance, but his deceiving lies. Of course she was going to believe him, a handsome, young man who told her how beautiful she was, and how flawless she was.
the root stock of the tree was very hardy and grounded for security in the trunk
root vegetables are good for you and wonderful to plant and eat right out of the garden like carrots, radishes——–mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
branching out and reaching down
into soil that’s dark and brown
drawing nutrients from below
for flowers and leaves to bloom and grow
My family is my root, my extended family too, I love every single one of them. And if you lay a finger on them, I solemnly swear I’m up to no good.
I’m proud of my origin, where tropical palm trees stand tall, where the king of fruits is the durian, spiky green outside and milky yellow inside, and where big families gatherings are in sight. I enjoy the warm breeze and rain every now and then, and hawker stalls with blazing smell of Asian food. Malaysia is my root, forever and always.
It was my company. It’s all because of me that the group is so strong now. I was the one who worked day and night without sleep or food to bring business. I was like the root of this tree.
But, the ones I watered were the ones with Axe. I hoped to be rooted someday for my effort. Emotions are just not a part of this city.
Root, like the things that saturate the corners of my mind, taking, feeling, sensing, consuming all of what is in my head, what drives me, what kills me, what keeps me alive
I bite and chew at you piece by piece, hoping to one day reach the end by tearing at a tendril, to find the puzzle pieces that tear at the sanctity of my soul.
her name was marissa and the roots of her hair never seemed to match the ends. we all made fun of her. after all, she wore a c cup in the fourth grade. i wish i could go back so i could write about her differently now.
The root of the problem is me, I know it is. It’s my depression, it’s my dependency on these escape mechanisms. It’s my diet, it’s my lack of exercise, it’s my total lack of excitement for anything ever– except in rare circumstances where I actually feel powerful emotions rushing through my chest. It isn’t anyone else, it’s me. Any girl would be lucky to have what I have- someone who loves as deeply as he does, someone to want me as much as he wants me. And all I’m doing it is throwing it away, like everything else in my life. I know what I do, but I do it all the same.
The root of all evils. You hear that a lot, especially in reference to the devil. However, I think it’s important to note that the devil does not exist, and therefore the root(s) of all evils lies within our very own souls. The root is the source.
roots
they’re like the lap of a mother, you bask in her warmth and before you know it you’re spilling over her and growing tall, soon too tall to sit in her sanctity anymore, and you grow strong, but never forget that she is who kept you grounded, she whom your roots stretch from
The root of all evil is love. Love will kill us all one day. No matter how much you care for someone they will break your heart and leave you gasping for breath in the aftermath. Its a slow acting poison that gets in your veins and kills you slowly overtime. You feel this euphoria when it begins but once its over, you feel like your heart has exploded in your chest. The pain is unbearable and you feel like theres nothing else to live for, yet you see the person you love living on without you and they seem perfectly happy…
Trees and stuff. I need to let my dog out. Ahww, she’s sleeping, never mind. I’ll wake her up in an hour or so. Anyway. What was I talking about? Right, trees. There’s a bunch of trees around my property. We had to cut some down so that we would get more sunlight on the pool. I love my pool. Wait, gotta focus on trees…I wanna go swimming.
Root
I picture treasures hidden in the roots of trees. Or underneath them. They can stretch out so far and so long….
I hid a couple of “treasures” once. Money. Just because. I knew exactly where I’d buried each and there was something almost magical about returning to those spots over a year later and finding everything exactly how and where I’d left it. Somehow, I’d expected my jars of money to be gone. I don’t know why. But they weren’t. They were there. Exactly how I’d buried them. There was something immensely comforting in that.
comes from a tree, plant . uhm also rootbeer. hehe it has eyes… oo see? i dont use this word. boring uhm root word.
The root of all evil is money, but i really think its love. Love will kill us all one day. No matter how much you care for someone they will break your heart and leave you gasping for breath in the aftermath. Its a slow acting poison that gets in your veins and kills you slowly overtime. You feel this euphoria when it begins but once its over, you feel like your heart has exploded in your chest.
Excellence is not just how you nurture your life, elxellence must begin at the root.
Where does the root start? Is it the root of all evil? The root of the problem? Or simply the root of a beautiful sunflower? We will never know what root they are talking about. I just know that the root is the beginning. If you want a strong life, find the root of it. Try and live your life like that. Roots are powerful because they hold the rest of you up.
The places where you find your roots, the place where everything originated.
THe place where every part of life begins-from the roots comet he plants, then come the things that it the plants, and the thing that eat them.
Stuff in nasty herbal medicines.