A budding light stems from a planted seed. Roots stretch for miles, never overturned. Love is relevant to his growth and everything is peaceful. Love stems from our hearts.
I look at you and realize where I have come from. My loves and my hates. My love for sun and my hate for heat. Contradictions; living always in me. But that is ok. Because I am apart of you. And if I can not have all of you, I shall stem forth from your being.
it stemmed from a nothing friendship to an important friendship to my being in love with you to my questioning it to me telling you and then lying and saying i LOVED you and wasn’t in love with you. and then it stemmed from that to an intimate relationship. and then the step broke. and now i miss us. and im only now admitting that to myself… even though that relationship was unhealthy our friendship was not.
I really enjoy finding where a significant event or thought stems from, where the spark fell to the floor and set the place ablaze. Today, there aren’t that many, if any, independent and wholeheartedly novel ideas… Everything originates from something before it, which sounds very Confucius-like, but to find where the root meets the earth…to find where the thought came to fruition…that’s what I’m about. That’s what inspires…right?
Last year of AP Bio we spent like two weeks learning about all things plants. Normally this would be terrible. Not the kind of biology I like at all. But this year was 10 million times worse. We had a student teacher…Ms.Kemner WHO WAS TERRIBLE. She would always stutter and she didn’t know her stuff. I think I lost brain cells listening to her. Needless to say, I didn’t learn a thing.
is under a flower. right? I have no idea what a stem is. It could be green or blue.
Maybe it’s the head of something big.
Or maybe it’s so little you can’t see it without a microscope.
Well, I’ll never know.
The stem was all you could see. The flower had bent over under it’s own weight, and with the water droplets remaining from the rain. How long could it stand? Perhaps when the sun returns, it will dry and stand again.
Stem.
Honestly.
Horrible word.
I’m trying to use up the 60 seconds.
Tick.
Tock.
Fingers tap the keyboard.
But no words of meaning comes out.
Such is the product of forced writing.
The stem of the apple is the part where nobody really notices. The apple itself stands out too much, overshadowing the stem. That’s exactly like that with people. People have a big ugly stem — a flaw. But the beauty within self overshadows it. That’s the way it is.
“…Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…” That was her fifth time shouting to twenty-six, ending the besetting ritual. By the end of it all, she sat back in the chair, sweating and panting. Her blonde highlights clung to her forehead and nape like wet grass. She’d never had an episode in public before. She had just gotten there and was embarrassed.
The doctor stared from across the room, motionless, barely breathing. The only sign of life from him was the slow, circular rubbing of his thumb and index fingers together. He took his time with her, having battled ticks and rituals himself. After a minute of silence he sympathetically muttered the rehearsed shrink-question that, by law, he had to ask. “So Blake, what brings you here today.”
Blake, still a little flush by the the episode, snatched two Kleenexes from their cartons. “I think you might be my father.”
It snapped so easily in her fingers, she hadn’t thought twice about it. The beautiful petals had been calling her name all day as she stared at them from the schoolhouse window. She took one breath of it’s sweet aroma and instantly fell asleep.
the stem was growing higher and higher from old Mrs. Wilsons’s garden. She had bought magivc beans from a traveling wanderer who had passed through town and had planted it only a little bit ago. Now it was going higher and higher into the sky, she had been frightened at first, but now she was enthralled with it’s girth and height.
The stem of the meaning of life. My life. It’s shrunken away into the roots, mixed with the soil, completely blended in with the earth below it. I could dig and dig and never find it. I’d just be breaking the stem up more with my fingernails searching for it. I give up.
stem the tide, stem the flow. all things stem from what, exactly?
Can’t know, don’t know, only know: be kind. Be kind.
be kind be kind be kind be kind be kind be kind be kind be kind be kind….
Dark. Rich. Fragrant. The rain made it smell even richer. pounding against it i thought perhaps it would be smashed into the ground. All the beauty beaten out of it. But, in the md left after the stem stood tall, holding onto the pale pink bud of the rose bush I had planted for you, just before you left.
the stem of the roses have thorns that are quite sharp
compared to other flowers, the rose, is beautiful and dangerous at the same time
while other flowers are simply beautiful the roses are as weapons or harpoons
a lot of tings stem from the root of all evil. poison fruit. leaves that leve a bitter
tang. deadly nightshad blooms. Blooms of all kinds and more blooms bloomin more bloomin blooms. oh! stem the bloomin bloomin
like the stem of a rose bending under the weight of so much abundance. the flower’s weight, the heat of the sun, the energy of life pulsing through it. It’s enough to make it snap, but it doesn’t. it stays strong, it endures…
I think that a flower stem is amazing. It survives the fiercest storms and serves as a lovely pedestal for nature’s incredible artwork. Some very interesting leaves would have no place to hang out if it weren’t for the hospitality of stems!
The stem of the tree bent 90 degrees. I wondered why it did so, when suddenly– another tree started to bend. It was in the middle of day time, so as a kid I figured it had something to do with the accumulating summer heat.
The stem snapped in two, revealing a hollow inside. I tugged at the end of it, getting my hands sticky. What kind of weed was this, anyway? I pulled up not only the roots, but a clump of dirt. I shook it violently and tossed it in the bin.
not sure what to type about this word so ima type about my morning.
Well I got up had to wait for the bank to open to cash my check because I forgot over the weekend then headed to Logan to sign Clay up for muttin’ bustin’ so it’s official he is going to be all summer with evens and sports. Next year mini bull riding starts I love being a busy mom, he enjoys being in the rodeo he tells me “mom I like it when people come cheer for me, and I hear themm scream my name but can’t see who it is cause there’s so many people” I love my big boy so much I am going to buy him some new boots and chaps for this summer e3vents and maybe even a new hat.
Okay I ran out of things to type hope time is up soon
The stem of the flower was wilting, soft with decay after it’s peak flowering time had past. The flower was still beautiful, just a bit bedraggled. It had done its duty and done it well. It had earned its rest and would wait through winter for the warmth of spring to return it to glory.
a stem. At first I think about flowers. How tall they can grow.
It reminds me of kindergarten. We got sunflowers at the beginning of the school year.
Mine didn’t live long. No plants I grow do, haha.
My love for my family stems from the fact that I’ve spent most of my childhood with them. Plants have stems which transport water and minerals throughout the plant’s body. Stem stem stem stemmity stem
the root of his unhappiness stemmed from a sense of lackadaisical laziness. he knew there was so much to do, and could even name them one by one in his head, but just couldn’t find the umph to do them.
A budding light stems from a planted seed. Roots stretch for miles, never overturned. Love is relevant to his growth and everything is peaceful. Love stems from our hearts.
“i have just planted a new eye at the stem.she will have to wear an eyepatch for up to a year.”
A new born stem, from a new born stem, the Pedals of a rose unfold, the fragrance of perfume.
I look at you and realize where I have come from. My loves and my hates. My love for sun and my hate for heat. Contradictions; living always in me. But that is ok. Because I am apart of you. And if I can not have all of you, I shall stem forth from your being.
my hope stems from my optimism. My love stems from my trust in the human race, the camaraderie and sameness that blankets us all.
it stemmed from a nothing friendship to an important friendship to my being in love with you to my questioning it to me telling you and then lying and saying i LOVED you and wasn’t in love with you. and then it stemmed from that to an intimate relationship. and then the step broke. and now i miss us. and im only now admitting that to myself… even though that relationship was unhealthy our friendship was not.
I really enjoy finding where a significant event or thought stems from, where the spark fell to the floor and set the place ablaze. Today, there aren’t that many, if any, independent and wholeheartedly novel ideas… Everything originates from something before it, which sounds very Confucius-like, but to find where the root meets the earth…to find where the thought came to fruition…that’s what I’m about. That’s what inspires…right?
Last year of AP Bio we spent like two weeks learning about all things plants. Normally this would be terrible. Not the kind of biology I like at all. But this year was 10 million times worse. We had a student teacher…Ms.Kemner WHO WAS TERRIBLE. She would always stutter and she didn’t know her stuff. I think I lost brain cells listening to her. Needless to say, I didn’t learn a thing.
is under a flower. right? I have no idea what a stem is. It could be green or blue.
Maybe it’s the head of something big.
Or maybe it’s so little you can’t see it without a microscope.
Well, I’ll never know.
The stem was all you could see. The flower had bent over under it’s own weight, and with the water droplets remaining from the rain. How long could it stand? Perhaps when the sun returns, it will dry and stand again.
Anything and everything will follow
Everything follows
Running or sleeping steadily
A leafy green pipe holding up a beautiful flower.
Her life dwindled like the stem of a wilting flower. With each passing day she grew thinner, weaker, her arms hanging limp like sagging rose petals.
Stem.
Honestly.
Horrible word.
I’m trying to use up the 60 seconds.
Tick.
Tock.
Fingers tap the keyboard.
But no words of meaning comes out.
Such is the product of forced writing.
The stem of the apple is the part where nobody really notices. The apple itself stands out too much, overshadowing the stem. That’s exactly like that with people. People have a big ugly stem — a flaw. But the beauty within self overshadows it. That’s the way it is.
“…Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…” That was her fifth time shouting to twenty-six, ending the besetting ritual. By the end of it all, she sat back in the chair, sweating and panting. Her blonde highlights clung to her forehead and nape like wet grass. She’d never had an episode in public before. She had just gotten there and was embarrassed.
The doctor stared from across the room, motionless, barely breathing. The only sign of life from him was the slow, circular rubbing of his thumb and index fingers together. He took his time with her, having battled ticks and rituals himself. After a minute of silence he sympathetically muttered the rehearsed shrink-question that, by law, he had to ask. “So Blake, what brings you here today.”
Blake, still a little flush by the the episode, snatched two Kleenexes from their cartons. “I think you might be my father.”
It snapped so easily in her fingers, she hadn’t thought twice about it. The beautiful petals had been calling her name all day as she stared at them from the schoolhouse window. She took one breath of it’s sweet aroma and instantly fell asleep.
the stem was growing higher and higher from old Mrs. Wilsons’s garden. She had bought magivc beans from a traveling wanderer who had passed through town and had planted it only a little bit ago. Now it was going higher and higher into the sky, she had been frightened at first, but now she was enthralled with it’s girth and height.
The stem of the meaning of life. My life. It’s shrunken away into the roots, mixed with the soil, completely blended in with the earth below it. I could dig and dig and never find it. I’d just be breaking the stem up more with my fingernails searching for it. I give up.
stem the tide, stem the flow. all things stem from what, exactly?
Can’t know, don’t know, only know: be kind. Be kind.
be kind be kind be kind be kind be kind be kind be kind be kind be kind….
Dark. Rich. Fragrant. The rain made it smell even richer. pounding against it i thought perhaps it would be smashed into the ground. All the beauty beaten out of it. But, in the md left after the stem stood tall, holding onto the pale pink bud of the rose bush I had planted for you, just before you left.
it holds up a beautiful flower
the stem of the roses have thorns that are quite sharp
compared to other flowers, the rose, is beautiful and dangerous at the same time
while other flowers are simply beautiful the roses are as weapons or harpoons
a lot of tings stem from the root of all evil. poison fruit. leaves that leve a bitter
tang. deadly nightshad blooms. Blooms of all kinds and more blooms bloomin more bloomin blooms. oh! stem the bloomin bloomin
like the stem of a rose bending under the weight of so much abundance. the flower’s weight, the heat of the sun, the energy of life pulsing through it. It’s enough to make it snap, but it doesn’t. it stays strong, it endures…
I think that a flower stem is amazing. It survives the fiercest storms and serves as a lovely pedestal for nature’s incredible artwork. Some very interesting leaves would have no place to hang out if it weren’t for the hospitality of stems!
The stem of the tree bent 90 degrees. I wondered why it did so, when suddenly– another tree started to bend. It was in the middle of day time, so as a kid I figured it had something to do with the accumulating summer heat.
plant. leaf. water. sunshine. photosynthesis.
life. death.
travel.
transfer.
support.
roots.
soil.
nature.
food.
science.
water.
I wish there were more stems on my money tree. A nice big stem, I think, with many, many leaves. A branch, even!
The stem snapped in two, revealing a hollow inside. I tugged at the end of it, getting my hands sticky. What kind of weed was this, anyway? I pulled up not only the roots, but a clump of dirt. I shook it violently and tossed it in the bin.
not sure what to type about this word so ima type about my morning.
Well I got up had to wait for the bank to open to cash my check because I forgot over the weekend then headed to Logan to sign Clay up for muttin’ bustin’ so it’s official he is going to be all summer with evens and sports. Next year mini bull riding starts I love being a busy mom, he enjoys being in the rodeo he tells me “mom I like it when people come cheer for me, and I hear themm scream my name but can’t see who it is cause there’s so many people” I love my big boy so much I am going to buy him some new boots and chaps for this summer e3vents and maybe even a new hat.
Okay I ran out of things to type hope time is up soon
1stem = supports together everything moving
The stem of the flower was wilting, soft with decay after it’s peak flowering time had past. The flower was still beautiful, just a bit bedraggled. It had done its duty and done it well. It had earned its rest and would wait through winter for the warmth of spring to return it to glory.
Stem, long and green, if you follow,
you’ll see quite a scene.
Wonderful colors, pedals so soft.
a stem. At first I think about flowers. How tall they can grow.
It reminds me of kindergarten. We got sunflowers at the beginning of the school year.
Mine didn’t live long. No plants I grow do, haha.
My love for my family stems from the fact that I’ve spent most of my childhood with them. Plants have stems which transport water and minerals throughout the plant’s body. Stem stem stem stemmity stem
it stemmed from a source far from where anyone had been. From a place hidden from all, a place secret to all that wanted to know.
Stopping the flow of blood, stemming it. Gah, I quite hate nosebleeds. They’re more trouble than they’re worth. Always.
The part of the flower that holds the head up, it’s the part that’s most often eaten in vegetables.
affixed to the long thin stem perched above a most beautiful white rose.. serenely placed as a golden jewel-crusted crown upon a throne
the root of his unhappiness stemmed from a sense of lackadaisical laziness. he knew there was so much to do, and could even name them one by one in his head, but just couldn’t find the umph to do them.