the stem snapped in half and the gardener dragon sighed. “damn princes, always stealing my roses.” it slithered over and chomped slowly on the shrub. the thousandth flower stealing prince sauntered off like a jerk.
Green stem, tube of light and nourishment, the bulk of our lives. Are roots are what we have to work with, the blossom is what we become when we realize who we really are, and the stem is the path we take to get there. Some are fuzzy, straight, curved, or thorny, but we take what we have and carry it to our flower.
Five men, six plans for the device. No one had any exact certainty what was about to happen, but that was irrelevant at the moment. The job would be done, one way or another. This was their night. Nothing could go wrong.
The stem is blue and it connects to an equally blue flower. Actually, it’s not so much a flower as it is a prickly thistle. We sell them at the flower shop I work at and every time someone buys one I think: “You must be related to Tim Burton”.
The stem lied barren below the bare branches of the once flourishing plum tree. Winter has plucked the vibrant scarlet petals from its core. The stem softly perished allowing its memories to wither in fresh droplets of snow; such is the beauty of a rose – fleeting in its anticipation to be replanted – much like the months of winter reborn.
Her stems were only good for holding her perfect ass up over her Prada shoes.
They could have her if they supplied enough chit chat and booze.
Either way, they lose.
Sharp Little Pencil
stemming hatred
not single acts anymore
everything
at once
you can’t run
no excuses to hide you
forget what you think you know for everything changes with the coming truth
like a tide upon the shore the reality will come upon me
and i will go.
The stem lied barren below the bare branches of the once flourishing plum tree. Winter has plucked the vibrant scarlet petals from its core. The stem softly perished allowing its memories to wither in fresh droplets of snow; such is the beauty of a rose – fleeting in its anticipation to be replanted, much like the months of winter reborn.
the stem is the connector of the roots to a flower and the petals, it is what holds it all together, the stem is there for stability but also flexibilty. Without the stem, there would be no flower.
stems hold up all the flowers that make this world go round. I know that I will awlaybs be the stem hidden away from the sun as I hold up the beautiful flowers that reside upon my shoulders pushing me farther and father into the ground. But thats my job foor I am the stem and this is what I was made for. Althoug hI long for the suns touch.
Like the stem of a flower I am growing and learning. Slowly gaining height. Letting my father cut me back and get off the dead leaves so that I can keep growing higher and higher. Never stop learning and growing.
Stem. The ways things grow. The way that they progress, and start from something else. The way that his relationship stemmed out of his parents divorce; out of their mutual hatred for the couple getting married that sunny afternoon late in May.
The way his love for her stemmed. Grew, and grew, and grew.
Stem, the word stem reminds me of my biology class in high school. I didn’t like that class too much but god did I learn a lot. I remember the teacher was so strict and tough on us, I’m grateful for that. I miss high school.
The stem is the limb than draws life from the roots and the soil and the stereotyped uncleanliness of the earth to give the flower its beauty. Life is truly strange and wondrous.
the stem is the part of the plant theat holds the flower, its like teh woman that is the neck that holda the head which is the man. heard that on my big fat greek wedding. Nice movie btw! i want to go see it
sometimes life throws you a flower, sometimes a rose….the thorns hurt but the beauty is insurmountable then before you know it, you begin to grow. You become that rose, then you too, begin to hurt other. Im just so sorry.
this is the branch of a plant or small tree. I like that you can use it to connect thoughts. This stems from that. so on and so forth… sys stem ic… meaning one thing leads to another…
what holds everything in place, the structural basis for a leaf, a flower or anything that needs to be close to the sun. It perfectly maintains the integrity of life, meaning that once it breaks, things can never be the same.
The stem is like, the reason for everything, right? The stem of all problems. I don’t know. That phrase, “the stem of all problems,” makes me think of like, Biblical things. I don’t like saying “like” while writing. I mean, you can say that while talking and it’s okay, but it’s extra silly to write it, because in writing you don’t really need to pause to think, because when reading you don’t realize the mental pauses the author took while writing.
That last sentence was such a run-off. I hit a wrong button and now I accidently have an extra minute to write. My computer claims “accidently” isn’t a word. I’m pretty sure it is, right?
the stem that comes from a flower, a stolen idea that stemmed from someone else’s work of genius.
a beautiful flower stemming from the ground as a beautiful creating is made.
stemming from a thought; is a creation of your imagination, for beautiful things to grow and be cherished so a future can be nourished and reaped
I just can imagine a big tall stem growing out of the ground. Give it a little time and it will grow a bud. Eventually, it will bloom into a big flower. Bright and orange and overtaking the rest of the flowers. SOmething beautiful from an ugly stem.
“So you see, Miss Cornwalle, insolence stems from kindness just as revenge stems from injustice. What you have taken under your wing has lashed back at you with the bitterest thorns of adolescent impudence. I hope you see what you’ve done.” She hung her head.
Flowers are blooming in the far away field, and nobody can see their beauty. They grow on forever without any guidance, and they never listen to what anyone has to say. fall in love, not in lust. Be beautiful like the flowers have come to know you as
flower leaves something that stems from the ground.
could be an idea stemming, or a thought growing, something that is born from something else and can bloom into something magical and extraordinary
it is the flower or passion for a cause that stems from a small act of kindness from a special someone who made you realize something meaningful about yourself
beginning of a plant. beginning of life. holder of the branches. something vital to existence. giver of nutrients. provider of necessities. something that roots us.
a stem that was all that was in the vase that sat aside my bed, the pedals had all wilted with age and scattered themselves across my floor, the floor me and you once lied on , toghether.
I haven’t received flowers since I was in the 5th grade. When I graduated I received a rose. It sat on our kitchen windowsill for the longest time. And as time passed the stem darkened and cracked and the flower’s petals changed colour and dropped down lost like my memories of the time i spent there.
I can’t quite define where I believe that my anger stems from. I’ve been told that people think that it stems from a drinking problem that I might have; but I think that is a problem of it’s own causing. I think it stems from when you used to bed his mom; when you ruined the family.
Seedling formed from something so miniscule. The stem reaching out towards the light and greater good. The warmth and energy is ever so inviting. The stem is just another part, another story– Branching out to better days.
The start of something new, something beautiful. The flushed greenery racing high across the sky, towards something good. The way it swiveled caught her attention, as to seem magical and irreplaceable.
It looks soft in the breeze, but when I read out to caress it, it rebukes my touch. In the sunlight, it appears the same as it did years ago, when it barely reached outside my window, peeking into the occurences within. I feel grateful toward this tree, for being alive when I expected no one else to have.
the stem snapped in half and the gardener dragon sighed. “damn princes, always stealing my roses.” it slithered over and chomped slowly on the shrub. the thousandth flower stealing prince sauntered off like a jerk.
my stem blooms into a beautiful flower that grows rapidly
the stem of my love for you caresses me into happiness
stem of a winner
you are the stem to my soul that keeps me connected.
flower, peach, apple, rose, tulip, cell, cherry, grape, fruit, sun
Green stem, tube of light and nourishment, the bulk of our lives. Are roots are what we have to work with, the blossom is what we become when we realize who we really are, and the stem is the path we take to get there. Some are fuzzy, straight, curved, or thorny, but we take what we have and carry it to our flower.
more stems? Why with the stems? I cut them when I’m putting flowers in a vase, I need no more stems. Oh well, I suppose I should be grateful.
The stem helps the flower bloom. Stems help the beauty of a flower and relationship grow. Flowers make dreams come true; lives become happy.
Five men, six plans for the device. No one had any exact certainty what was about to happen, but that was irrelevant at the moment. The job would be done, one way or another. This was their night. Nothing could go wrong.
Except the police. That went wrong a lot.
The stem is blue and it connects to an equally blue flower. Actually, it’s not so much a flower as it is a prickly thistle. We sell them at the flower shop I work at and every time someone buys one I think: “You must be related to Tim Burton”.
The stem lied barren below the bare branches of the once flourishing plum tree. Winter has plucked the vibrant scarlet petals from its core. The stem softly perished allowing its memories to wither in fresh droplets of snow; such is the beauty of a rose – fleeting in its anticipation to be replanted – much like the months of winter reborn.
Her stems were only good for holding her perfect ass up over her Prada shoes.
They could have her if they supplied enough chit chat and booze.
Either way, they lose.
Sharp Little Pencil
stemming hatred
not single acts anymore
everything
at once
you can’t run
no excuses to hide you
forget what you think you know for everything changes with the coming truth
like a tide upon the shore the reality will come upon me
and i will go.
like a flower. or a leaf. the beginning. where all things start.
the growing comes from here. the petals.
life.
the beginning.
it breaks off.
the end.
a thousand miles till the earth that brews
a million cells
a hundred reasons to grow
The stem lied barren below the bare branches of the once flourishing plum tree. Winter has plucked the vibrant scarlet petals from its core. The stem softly perished allowing its memories to wither in fresh droplets of snow; such is the beauty of a rose – fleeting in its anticipation to be replanted, much like the months of winter reborn.
the stem is the connector of the roots to a flower and the petals, it is what holds it all together, the stem is there for stability but also flexibilty. Without the stem, there would be no flower.
stems hold up all the flowers that make this world go round. I know that I will awlaybs be the stem hidden away from the sun as I hold up the beautiful flowers that reside upon my shoulders pushing me farther and father into the ground. But thats my job foor I am the stem and this is what I was made for. Althoug hI long for the suns touch.
Like the stem of a flower I am growing and learning. Slowly gaining height. Letting my father cut me back and get off the dead leaves so that I can keep growing higher and higher. Never stop learning and growing.
read all of the entries and then tell me that people are not naturally smart. they are free associators, they are thinkers without trying
Stem. The ways things grow. The way that they progress, and start from something else. The way that his relationship stemmed out of his parents divorce; out of their mutual hatred for the couple getting married that sunny afternoon late in May.
The way his love for her stemmed. Grew, and grew, and grew.
dont give me the same word again, please? the first time i tried to write i was unable to post because i wasnt a member of your exclusive club
birth, renewal, and forever changing life.
yet, it’s just a cycle.
Stem, the word stem reminds me of my biology class in high school. I didn’t like that class too much but god did I learn a lot. I remember the teacher was so strict and tough on us, I’m grateful for that. I miss high school.
The stem is the limb than draws life from the roots and the soil and the stereotyped uncleanliness of the earth to give the flower its beauty. Life is truly strange and wondrous.
the stem is the part of the plant theat holds the flower, its like teh woman that is the neck that holda the head which is the man. heard that on my big fat greek wedding. Nice movie btw! i want to go see it
sometimes life throws you a flower, sometimes a rose….the thorns hurt but the beauty is insurmountable then before you know it, you begin to grow. You become that rose, then you too, begin to hurt other. Im just so sorry.
this is the branch of a plant or small tree. I like that you can use it to connect thoughts. This stems from that. so on and so forth… sys stem ic… meaning one thing leads to another…
what holds everything in place, the structural basis for a leaf, a flower or anything that needs to be close to the sun. It perfectly maintains the integrity of life, meaning that once it breaks, things can never be the same.
The stem is like, the reason for everything, right? The stem of all problems. I don’t know. That phrase, “the stem of all problems,” makes me think of like, Biblical things. I don’t like saying “like” while writing. I mean, you can say that while talking and it’s okay, but it’s extra silly to write it, because in writing you don’t really need to pause to think, because when reading you don’t realize the mental pauses the author took while writing.
That last sentence was such a run-off. I hit a wrong button and now I accidently have an extra minute to write. My computer claims “accidently” isn’t a word. I’m pretty sure it is, right?
the stem that comes from a flower, a stolen idea that stemmed from someone else’s work of genius.
a beautiful flower stemming from the ground as a beautiful creating is made.
stemming from a thought; is a creation of your imagination, for beautiful things to grow and be cherished so a future can be nourished and reaped
I just can imagine a big tall stem growing out of the ground. Give it a little time and it will grow a bud. Eventually, it will bloom into a big flower. Bright and orange and overtaking the rest of the flowers. SOmething beautiful from an ugly stem.
of a flower. its long and green. sometimes its brown. my favorite type of floweis the kind with a large pom on thop with a very long stem.
“So you see, Miss Cornwalle, insolence stems from kindness just as revenge stems from injustice. What you have taken under your wing has lashed back at you with the bitterest thorns of adolescent impudence. I hope you see what you’ve done.” She hung her head.
Flowers are blooming in the far away field, and nobody can see their beauty. They grow on forever without any guidance, and they never listen to what anyone has to say. fall in love, not in lust. Be beautiful like the flowers have come to know you as
flower leaves something that stems from the ground.
could be an idea stemming, or a thought growing, something that is born from something else and can bloom into something magical and extraordinary
it is the flower or passion for a cause that stems from a small act of kindness from a special someone who made you realize something meaningful about yourself
beginning of a plant. beginning of life. holder of the branches. something vital to existence. giver of nutrients. provider of necessities. something that roots us.
a stem that was all that was in the vase that sat aside my bed, the pedals had all wilted with age and scattered themselves across my floor, the floor me and you once lied on , toghether.
I haven’t received flowers since I was in the 5th grade. When I graduated I received a rose. It sat on our kitchen windowsill for the longest time. And as time passed the stem darkened and cracked and the flower’s petals changed colour and dropped down lost like my memories of the time i spent there.
I can’t quite define where I believe that my anger stems from. I’ve been told that people think that it stems from a drinking problem that I might have; but I think that is a problem of it’s own causing. I think it stems from when you used to bed his mom; when you ruined the family.
Seedling formed from something so miniscule. The stem reaching out towards the light and greater good. The warmth and energy is ever so inviting. The stem is just another part, another story– Branching out to better days.
The start of something new, something beautiful. The flushed greenery racing high across the sky, towards something good. The way it swiveled caught her attention, as to seem magical and irreplaceable.
It looks soft in the breeze, but when I read out to caress it, it rebukes my touch. In the sunlight, it appears the same as it did years ago, when it barely reached outside my window, peeking into the occurences within. I feel grateful toward this tree, for being alive when I expected no one else to have.