soil is what plants need to grow. worms live in soil. this is a really dumb paragraph that an elementary school student would probably write. soil is probably underneth my nails. soil is spelled s o i l and has 4 letters
She had stumbled into a magical realm where vines slept lazily between towering palm trees that stood paralyzed in a morning stretch towards heaven’s own spiraling staircase. Even the slightest touch of whimsical feeling could be felt in the mushy, rich soil that crept and slithered between her toes.
the earth, something that if it is rich will bring growth but if it is not, will only bring death. so many rely on the soil of the land to provide for their livelihood
I used to play with soil when i was a little girl. I was that kind of tomboy-ish girl who played along with other kids with cars on the ground. Soil is one of the most important elements in our planet and it has always been. It reminds me of the green color and all of the animals that can feed from the plants that soil produce
soil is the stuff that plants use to grow by using the nutrients that are in it. If you take soil and eat it you could possibly get sick, because there are probably germs. If you rub it on your face, you could look pretty interesting.
Earth. It was what fueled me.
I was a runner. I ran from those who attempted to hurt me. My shoes would wear, and I would eventually get down to my bare feet, covered in Earth.
Soil.
It was what made me run. What fueled me. What carried me away from what I feared the most.
the soil was moist. it was the first rain of the season. who wouldve known that this is where it would all change. On that day we begun to see things, things we couldnt explain. why were they there? it made us question everything.
Delve into the earth, into the ancient mines of long-ago wars and kingdoms and histories. Read the soil and uncover the secrets of the past. Reach deep into its iron grip and pull out tidbits of knowledge to share with the world of today.
I like soil. It is somehow soft. It is bouncy and holds life. It is under your feet and in pots that hold beautiful flowers. I once was digging soil when I was younger. It got stuck under my nails. And it hurt. Soil is fancy dirt.
When you live in South Dakota, soil is one of the most important things. Everyone’s a farmer, and if not you are best friends with a farmer, or are related to one. This Year we went through a drought, so the soil was bad and the crops didnt grow! Good soil is very important.
A loving man is like rich soil. Beautiful things grow from it, and nature is attracted to it. The evil man is dry infertile soil, producing nothing, only killing off what is beautiful
dirt brown dirty earth fresh free nature life plants flowers herbs rock ground rock pebbles the start of something beautiful. the simplicity of beat that nature can provide. perfect. simple wonderful. something people can find gross, little do they know that it is something so mysteriously great. its one of the few things earth can providethat gets us closer to magic. the fact that is can build so much, in both small and large quantities.
He grabbed a handful of it and hurled it across the bus at the suspicious looking trench-coat wearing iguana. “I have covered you in soil,” he whispered across the aisle at that trench-coat wearing iguana. Why had he done it? Because he had it? Because he had it to throw?
DIrty, yet helpful. It is needed for most all life on this planet. While it doesn’t seem like much, it provides the nurtrients for the plants of our world. Little children find thier amusement digging into its depths. Often it is when kids are covered in soil that it is apparent they have had a most imaginitive day. Dirty, yet helpful.
It was almost like he wanted me to get angry. I not only kicked some wet soil on his brand new kicks, but slapped my dirty calloused hand on his smug little face.
Soil is a funny word. It feels weird on the tongue the same way the words moist and sasaphrass do. I wonder sometimes if I am the only person to think that. It can be a lonely thought, wondering if you are the only one that thinks something. I think a lot about if I am the only one who sees me the way I do, if the person I see in the mirror is the same person that others see when they look at me.
Dirt upon the earth. Good for growing plants. Also, something one does to one’s underwear when in an accident: “First you say it, then you do it”– Bill Cosby.
The cold dead ground under my feet. As I walk, I think of all the things this ground would say if it could speak. Oh the stories it could tell from life to death, from seed to skull.
I buried my hamster under the soil, saying goodbye to a life that I once cared for. I held hands with my love over the soil, saying goodbye as he left for work. The flowers I planted sprung out and gave a beautiful life that gave me a blissful smile as I walked by, and that too I had to say goodbye when the winter came.
soil; the land the earth and so much more. The building blocks of life; the base of our world. The fuel for our food, and the cradle from which our lives emerged so long ago. The basis of life
dirt, the fuel of the world.The creation of all. From soil we were made, and unto soil we shall return. Woe is to he who shall never know his native soil; for he shall never understand his roots. And what a terrible thing it is to not know one’s roots; one’s past, one’s predecessors. Tis a foul thing, indeed, to walk through this life so blindly as to not know the past of one’s self.
Soil is a dark and brown substance. It feels cool beneath my feet unlike the feeling of sand on a hot day. One thing that I enjoy is planting in the soil, creating a new life of it’s own. It brings me piece.
She’s soiling our minds! All my life she’s soiled me. Soiled you. Soiled us. She’s controlling and conniving. She’s a broken soul turned insane and maniacal. She doesn’t want whats best for you. She only wants you as a chess piece in her game of life. That’s all it is to her; a game.
Dirt houses growing baby trees perfectly. I really don’t see how anything else could suffice. I certainly wouldn’t be a good house for baby trees. I am a person. I like my place. I’m sure soil likes its place too, if it can like things that is.
soil is a part of the earth. everyone and everything is a part of this earth without it none of anything we know would exist. this world would not be here and i wouldn’t be writing this sentence.
one time on spring break my best friend and current college roommate had 18 shots and got really drunk. i was sharing a room with her and that night she soiled the bed that we slept in. three times. true friendship if you ask me. I’m not mad.
I cautiously look around me. Everyone still has their nose stuck in their book. I wonder if I can make it out of the classroom without anyone noticing. I hope I can make it to my locker then to the bathroom. I can’t believe I couldn’t just wait five more minutes for the bell to ring….
I sat on the soil. It was slitly damp and had begun soaking into my shorts, but I had ceased to notice. My bare thighs were chilly with the wet earth as I dug my fingers into the ground.
The soil was rough on my feet. Not rough like the cliches. Or rough like a dog. Roughness — like pain.
Like tangible pain —
in every grain of soil.
Ah, pain.
Roughness.
The smell of the freshly turned earth burns itself into my memory as I stand by the graveside. I drop a bright but quickly wilting rose onto the polished coffin. “Goodbye.”
soil is what plants need to grow. worms live in soil. this is a really dumb paragraph that an elementary school student would probably write. soil is probably underneth my nails. soil is spelled s o i l and has 4 letters
She had stumbled into a magical realm where vines slept lazily between towering palm trees that stood paralyzed in a morning stretch towards heaven’s own spiraling staircase. Even the slightest touch of whimsical feeling could be felt in the mushy, rich soil that crept and slithered between her toes.
Fog dredger
Soil again? Soiled again. Soil. Roil. Coil. Foil. Oil. Oil soils. Soil. Soil grows things. Things can also be soiled. Black, beautiful soil.
the earth, something that if it is rich will bring growth but if it is not, will only bring death. so many rely on the soil of the land to provide for their livelihood
I used to play with soil when i was a little girl. I was that kind of tomboy-ish girl who played along with other kids with cars on the ground. Soil is one of the most important elements in our planet and it has always been. It reminds me of the green color and all of the animals that can feed from the plants that soil produce
soil is the stuff that plants use to grow by using the nutrients that are in it. If you take soil and eat it you could possibly get sick, because there are probably germs. If you rub it on your face, you could look pretty interesting.
Earth. It was what fueled me.
I was a runner. I ran from those who attempted to hurt me. My shoes would wear, and I would eventually get down to my bare feet, covered in Earth.
Soil.
It was what made me run. What fueled me. What carried me away from what I feared the most.
seeds grow in soil, we are made of soil n get mixed in it when we die, without soil there would have been no ffod it retains water grows plants
The soil was tainted with the mangled zombie pieces that were strewn about relentlessly. Obviously when they meant 2012 apocalypse they meant it!
the soil was moist. it was the first rain of the season. who wouldve known that this is where it would all change. On that day we begun to see things, things we couldnt explain. why were they there? it made us question everything.
Delve into the earth, into the ancient mines of long-ago wars and kingdoms and histories. Read the soil and uncover the secrets of the past. Reach deep into its iron grip and pull out tidbits of knowledge to share with the world of today.
I like soil. It is somehow soft. It is bouncy and holds life. It is under your feet and in pots that hold beautiful flowers. I once was digging soil when I was younger. It got stuck under my nails. And it hurt. Soil is fancy dirt.
When you live in South Dakota, soil is one of the most important things. Everyone’s a farmer, and if not you are best friends with a farmer, or are related to one. This Year we went through a drought, so the soil was bad and the crops didnt grow! Good soil is very important.
A loving man is like rich soil. Beautiful things grow from it, and nature is attracted to it. The evil man is dry infertile soil, producing nothing, only killing off what is beautiful
dirt brown dirty earth fresh free nature life plants flowers herbs rock ground rock pebbles the start of something beautiful. the simplicity of beat that nature can provide. perfect. simple wonderful. something people can find gross, little do they know that it is something so mysteriously great. its one of the few things earth can providethat gets us closer to magic. the fact that is can build so much, in both small and large quantities.
there was a man in the ground.
no one knew who he was.
it was sad;
even for the ground.
He grabbed a handful of it and hurled it across the bus at the suspicious looking trench-coat wearing iguana. “I have covered you in soil,” he whispered across the aisle at that trench-coat wearing iguana. Why had he done it? Because he had it? Because he had it to throw?
DIrty, yet helpful. It is needed for most all life on this planet. While it doesn’t seem like much, it provides the nurtrients for the plants of our world. Little children find thier amusement digging into its depths. Often it is when kids are covered in soil that it is apparent they have had a most imaginitive day. Dirty, yet helpful.
It was almost like he wanted me to get angry. I not only kicked some wet soil on his brand new kicks, but slapped my dirty calloused hand on his smug little face.
Soil is a funny word. It feels weird on the tongue the same way the words moist and sasaphrass do. I wonder sometimes if I am the only person to think that. It can be a lonely thought, wondering if you are the only one that thinks something. I think a lot about if I am the only one who sees me the way I do, if the person I see in the mirror is the same person that others see when they look at me.
Dirt upon the earth. Good for growing plants. Also, something one does to one’s underwear when in an accident: “First you say it, then you do it”– Bill Cosby.
The cold dead ground under my feet. As I walk, I think of all the things this ground would say if it could speak. Oh the stories it could tell from life to death, from seed to skull.
I buried my hamster under the soil, saying goodbye to a life that I once cared for. I held hands with my love over the soil, saying goodbye as he left for work. The flowers I planted sprung out and gave a beautiful life that gave me a blissful smile as I walked by, and that too I had to say goodbye when the winter came.
soil; the land the earth and so much more. The building blocks of life; the base of our world. The fuel for our food, and the cradle from which our lives emerged so long ago. The basis of life
dirt, the fuel of the world.The creation of all. From soil we were made, and unto soil we shall return. Woe is to he who shall never know his native soil; for he shall never understand his roots. And what a terrible thing it is to not know one’s roots; one’s past, one’s predecessors. Tis a foul thing, indeed, to walk through this life so blindly as to not know the past of one’s self.
Soil is a dark and brown substance. It feels cool beneath my feet unlike the feeling of sand on a hot day. One thing that I enjoy is planting in the soil, creating a new life of it’s own. It brings me piece.
She’s soiling our minds! All my life she’s soiled me. Soiled you. Soiled us. She’s controlling and conniving. She’s a broken soul turned insane and maniacal. She doesn’t want whats best for you. She only wants you as a chess piece in her game of life. That’s all it is to her; a game.
the soil was thick and dark. the man picked up the shovel and started digging as if he was in search of something new.
Dirt houses growing baby trees perfectly. I really don’t see how anything else could suffice. I certainly wouldn’t be a good house for baby trees. I am a person. I like my place. I’m sure soil likes its place too, if it can like things that is.
Slowly but steadily, I continued my journey deeper into the earth, deeper towards light. I followed these branch-like sticks until I saw something.
soil is a part of the earth. everyone and everything is a part of this earth without it none of anything we know would exist. this world would not be here and i wouldn’t be writing this sentence.
one time on spring break my best friend and current college roommate had 18 shots and got really drunk. i was sharing a room with her and that night she soiled the bed that we slept in. three times. true friendship if you ask me. I’m not mad.
a girl dug in the soil to plant seeds to grow her lotus. the soil was slightly moist, grains of dirt filled her fingernails.
I cautiously look around me. Everyone still has their nose stuck in their book. I wonder if I can make it out of the classroom without anyone noticing. I hope I can make it to my locker then to the bathroom. I can’t believe I couldn’t just wait five more minutes for the bell to ring….
I sat on the soil. It was slitly damp and had begun soaking into my shorts, but I had ceased to notice. My bare thighs were chilly with the wet earth as I dug my fingers into the ground.
From which we rise,
Into which we fall,
The earth is always there.
Soft yet cruel,
It takes us all
In the end,
The eternal soil.
The soil was rough on my feet. Not rough like the cliches. Or rough like a dog. Roughness — like pain.
Like tangible pain —
in every grain of soil.
Ah, pain.
Roughness.
Soil.
The smell of the freshly turned earth burns itself into my memory as I stand by the graveside. I drop a bright but quickly wilting rose onto the polished coffin. “Goodbye.”
The soil was dank, like gravel. It slipped through the spaces between my fingers like sand. Like him.