sticks are the most useful piece of item one doesn’t think about. After all, without sticks there wouldn’t be the proper use of leverage to help lift larger objects. Also, sticks are used as weapons both defensively and offensively. They can be used as staffs for bludgeoning people into submission, or added sharp points to pierce them.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me ” .. these were the lines we have reading since childhood though i doubt how many of us practice it in real life .
He smiled wanly and once again began to pick up the sticks. He brushed his a few coppery strands of hair away from his face as he focused on his work and trying to remain in good spirits. It wasn’t working. He wanted a cigarette but knew there was no way he’d get one anytime soon.
The blood sticks to his hands like glue. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t rub it off. There’s no water anywhere around, and all he wants is for the blood to be gone, to stop staining him like this.
The girl piled the sticks against the church, wiping the sweat from her eyes. The boy put a torch to the pile and they settled back to watch the flames leap into joyful, flickering light, sending dervish shadows dancing over their faces.
I would like a forever home, a place to belong, a place to be, feeling that its not all very likely to disappear tomorrow, everywhere seems to evaporate , reveals itself a mirage
i want a connection that sticks, it seems to have afire at the heart of it and beside it a big wiry haired dog with a tail that thumps, I haven’t met him yet……
Ok sticks they come from trees and they are brown and they have bark on them sometimes but sometimes not they are used as fire wood they could be usedto make things like there’s even a game called pick up sticks and I bet that the wooden sticks that are very colorful had once been a stick or at least part of a tree once. Sometimes sticks are used to make ferniture for people to use
The pile of sticks lay there, now and among smoldering ashes, refusing to ignite once more. It was done now. No amount of blowing and glowing would bring it back.
one sticks to someone when he needs that person a lot…….the thot of that person going away makes him stick to the person more…..the attachment care and love make it impossible for a person to let go of their loved ones…..one sticks to a person for support and care….and love…
sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can only break my heart
your careless mouth can’t take them back, stand back and watch me fall apart.
and now my one regret is i don’t know how to forget
your voice, your eyes, your many lies, or who you were when we first met.
sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can only break my heart. your careless mouth can’t take them back, stand back and watch me fall apart. and now my one regret is i don’t know how to forget your voice, your eyes, your many lies, or who you were when we first met.
sticks and stones may break my bones but names can never hurt me… is that really true? if it really was, middle school would have been much easier, and the emotions i wish to express to some people would leave me feeling less guilty.
i wish i knew more about my father’s past. he is part navajo and has many relatives that are native american plus i just took some people to the mall for the first time and they thought it was nifty. i love books with pictures of dogs.
What does sticks means? one is of wood and other is to stick with something. so sticks can be used to generate heat by burning them. and we can say glue is used to stick the things or glue sticks the two surfaces with each other.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words hurt me more than they ever could. You call me stupid, fat, ugly. It hurts. It stays with me for ever, even now years after I still don’t eat, don’t think I’m smart, don’t think I’m pretty. I hope you know it never goes away.
Stick figures and smores, bowen arrows and forts. It’s funny how something as simple as sticks can be used for childrens’ drawing and the heart of ancient war.
there are a billion sticks on the ground and someone will pick one of them up. the woman will hold onto that stick and try and make something of it. she’ll fail. she’ll be frustrated and light a match then accidentally cause to stick to go on fire. she’ll stare at the loss she’s experienced and realize that she just made fire. she didn’t fail after all.
sticks are brown, they are thrown like people with harsh feelings against one another, words just coming out hurting others, being thrown like sticks to a dog that licks wounds, internal wounds that never heal from past experiences that leave scars and turn into pits
Sticks can be thought of as just dead objects that fall from trees, but they supported a beautiful tree before. That’s the real beauty of what a stick really is. Is it not?
it’s long and thin object, a sticks have many useful applications. It’s one of the most ancient and primitive tools known to human. Our ancestor has been known to use them to aid their life. Chimpanzees are also known for being able to use sticks as tool. hey used them to hunt for food
Sticks and stone, bouncing off the small of your chest, and as the legs drag forward, the man stands to taunt him. The hands grab the sticks and grip them, the knuckles red, then white are they strained. The man stepped aside, no harm from here. As the stick fell, it gather more of itself, it made a bundle, and grew feet. It walked behind the legs and hands, it dragged it’s stick legs, along the same ground, just a few drags behind. It haunted him. It was a long a winding alley, maybe more than an alley, but yes, it was a path to follow. So the legs lead the hands, and together they lead the sticks along, and then it’s all a story of doors and smoke, and mirrors and hope…
She ran along the bank of the river towards the woods. As she approached the thickening trees she looked down at the rocky ground.
“Perfect,” she thought to herself. She began to pick up the sticks. She couldn’t wait to show them to her brother. Their reenactment of the final battle between Harry Potter and Voldemort would be perfect.
Roderich thought the way the sticks were all lined up across the path, but he just shrugged and stepped over them, continuing on to Ludwig’s house. He certainly didn’t mind the German’s company, but that wasn’t the reason he was visiting him. His brother, Gilbert, happened to live with him.
Sticks, eh? Well. Sticks can poke people. Pretty hard if you let ’em. But sticks can be good, as well. Like pretzels or ….something like that. Drum sticks are pretty neat. They can come in all colours and shapes and such.
The boy was feeling very bored and absent minded that day, wondering what he could possibly do. So he put sticks through his nose into his brain. Thus ended the boy.
“What are you just gonna walk around carrying two oak sticks on your shoulders?” He asked me.
I replied quickly. “Well, yea.”
“And what are you gonna do with ’em? Beat people up?” He smirked
I laughed. “Yup. Well, if I need to.”
Wood? Play grounds. Pick up sticks. It reminds me of elementary school and playing around in the “forest” area at school. I remember we weren’t allowed to touch the sticks in the forest and anyone who did had to sit by the garbage can for the rest of our play time.
sticks….like sticks you find in your backyard? yea i guess i could write about those. i’d like to hit a certain someone with a stick, but im not going to name any names. all i know is that if i had a stick and this certain person was near me right now…i’d whack them upside the head with it. it’s just been one of those days…
the count sings the song about picking up sticks and buckling shoes. Little did he know he was singing for an audience and not just to himself. Count Bisping loved the ol nursery rhyme since his days at the orphanage
Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me. But that’s not true, is it? It seems that tonight as we’re throwing plates around the kitchen and slamming cupboards, you’ve taken it upon yourself to prove that to me. You call me your worst nightmare and your biggest mistake and you say I’m worthless and pointless and even though I know that what you’re saying won’t really matter in the long run, next year and the year after that and the year after that, I can feel your words as they crash through my ears and go straight to that place in between my heart and my stomach, where the butterflies with the broken wings hide away.
purple. times new roman font. uncapitalized. can make other words. reminds me of pencils. i cant think of anything to write now. this is stupid. there isnt a period at the end either. …
sticks and stones may break my bones, but turds will never hurt me. 1 2 pick up sticks. Sticks and stones are also rock bands. Twigs are often called sticks, and you can stick something, but you cannot twig something.
this one day i was riding a bull. but this was no ordinary bull, this was a bull which had an extradordinary veritcal. so i took him around the world and he would jump over all kinds of sticks. big ones, small ones, he was a world champ.
Sticks are dead. Dead as in dead. Very dead. As a child I would flutter about the forests and “plant” them, in hopes that they, the severed limbs of great trees, would magically sprout more trees. Children are very dumb, you see, and believe that frogs can turn into princes… Sticks growing into tall, limber trees is much easier to believe with that logic.
sticks are the most useful piece of item one doesn’t think about. After all, without sticks there wouldn’t be the proper use of leverage to help lift larger objects. Also, sticks are used as weapons both defensively and offensively. They can be used as staffs for bludgeoning people into submission, or added sharp points to pierce them.
one two tie ur shoe. three four open the door. five six pick up STICKS. seven eight shut the gate. nine ten big fat hen!! :)
i miss my childhood. and little kids nowadays dont know their nursery rhymes nearly well enough.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me ” .. these were the lines we have reading since childhood though i doubt how many of us practice it in real life .
nothing sticks anymore.
because this generation is hollow
things said or done may or may not be
whatever happened to keeping our word?
He smiled wanly and once again began to pick up the sticks. He brushed his a few coppery strands of hair away from his face as he focused on his work and trying to remain in good spirits. It wasn’t working. He wanted a cigarette but knew there was no way he’d get one anytime soon.
The blood sticks to his hands like glue. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t rub it off. There’s no water anywhere around, and all he wants is for the blood to be gone, to stop staining him like this.
The girl piled the sticks against the church, wiping the sweat from her eyes. The boy put a torch to the pile and they settled back to watch the flames leap into joyful, flickering light, sending dervish shadows dancing over their faces.
sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. trees. used for climbing. swords. wood.
I would like a forever home, a place to belong, a place to be, feeling that its not all very likely to disappear tomorrow, everywhere seems to evaporate , reveals itself a mirage
i want a connection that sticks, it seems to have afire at the heart of it and beside it a big wiry haired dog with a tail that thumps, I haven’t met him yet……
Ok sticks they come from trees and they are brown and they have bark on them sometimes but sometimes not they are used as fire wood they could be usedto make things like there’s even a game called pick up sticks and I bet that the wooden sticks that are very colorful had once been a stick or at least part of a tree once. Sometimes sticks are used to make ferniture for people to use
The pile of sticks lay there, now and among smoldering ashes, refusing to ignite once more. It was done now. No amount of blowing and glowing would bring it back.
one sticks to someone when he needs that person a lot…….the thot of that person going away makes him stick to the person more…..the attachment care and love make it impossible for a person to let go of their loved ones…..one sticks to a person for support and care….and love…
sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can only break my heart
your careless mouth can’t take them back, stand back and watch me fall apart.
and now my one regret is i don’t know how to forget
your voice, your eyes, your many lies, or who you were when we first met.
sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can only break my heart. your careless mouth can’t take them back, stand back and watch me fall apart. and now my one regret is i don’t know how to forget your voice, your eyes, your many lies, or who you were when we first met.
sticks and stones may break my bones but names can never hurt me… is that really true? if it really was, middle school would have been much easier, and the emotions i wish to express to some people would leave me feeling less guilty.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
Words can hurt.
Use them wisely.
And always think twice.
i wish i knew more about my father’s past. he is part navajo and has many relatives that are native american plus i just took some people to the mall for the first time and they thought it was nifty. i love books with pictures of dogs.
What does sticks means? one is of wood and other is to stick with something. so sticks can be used to generate heat by burning them. and we can say glue is used to stick the things or glue sticks the two surfaces with each other.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words hurt me more than they ever could. You call me stupid, fat, ugly. It hurts. It stays with me for ever, even now years after I still don’t eat, don’t think I’m smart, don’t think I’m pretty. I hope you know it never goes away.
Stick figures and smores, bowen arrows and forts. It’s funny how something as simple as sticks can be used for childrens’ drawing and the heart of ancient war.
there are a billion sticks on the ground and someone will pick one of them up. the woman will hold onto that stick and try and make something of it. she’ll fail. she’ll be frustrated and light a match then accidentally cause to stick to go on fire. she’ll stare at the loss she’s experienced and realize that she just made fire. she didn’t fail after all.
sticks are brown, they are thrown like people with harsh feelings against one another, words just coming out hurting others, being thrown like sticks to a dog that licks wounds, internal wounds that never heal from past experiences that leave scars and turn into pits
Sticks can be thought of as just dead objects that fall from trees, but they supported a beautiful tree before. That’s the real beauty of what a stick really is. Is it not?
it’s long and thin object, a sticks have many useful applications. It’s one of the most ancient and primitive tools known to human. Our ancestor has been known to use them to aid their life. Chimpanzees are also known for being able to use sticks as tool. hey used them to hunt for food
Sticks and stone, bouncing off the small of your chest, and as the legs drag forward, the man stands to taunt him. The hands grab the sticks and grip them, the knuckles red, then white are they strained. The man stepped aside, no harm from here. As the stick fell, it gather more of itself, it made a bundle, and grew feet. It walked behind the legs and hands, it dragged it’s stick legs, along the same ground, just a few drags behind. It haunted him. It was a long a winding alley, maybe more than an alley, but yes, it was a path to follow. So the legs lead the hands, and together they lead the sticks along, and then it’s all a story of doors and smoke, and mirrors and hope…
She ran along the bank of the river towards the woods. As she approached the thickening trees she looked down at the rocky ground.
“Perfect,” she thought to herself. She began to pick up the sticks. She couldn’t wait to show them to her brother. Their reenactment of the final battle between Harry Potter and Voldemort would be perfect.
Roderich thought the way the sticks were all lined up across the path, but he just shrugged and stepped over them, continuing on to Ludwig’s house. He certainly didn’t mind the German’s company, but that wasn’t the reason he was visiting him. His brother, Gilbert, happened to live with him.
Sticks, eh? Well. Sticks can poke people. Pretty hard if you let ’em. But sticks can be good, as well. Like pretzels or ….something like that. Drum sticks are pretty neat. They can come in all colours and shapes and such.
Matches without their fiery head, their dynamite bitten off. Ego-less.
wow. More sticks. I stare at my drumsticks as it were their fault i messed up. Biggest opportunity of my life, wasted because of a simple mistake.
The boy was feeling very bored and absent minded that day, wondering what he could possibly do. So he put sticks through his nose into his brain. Thus ended the boy.
“What are you just gonna walk around carrying two oak sticks on your shoulders?” He asked me.
I replied quickly. “Well, yea.”
“And what are you gonna do with ’em? Beat people up?” He smirked
I laughed. “Yup. Well, if I need to.”
Wood? Play grounds. Pick up sticks. It reminds me of elementary school and playing around in the “forest” area at school. I remember we weren’t allowed to touch the sticks in the forest and anyone who did had to sit by the garbage can for the rest of our play time.
sticks….like sticks you find in your backyard? yea i guess i could write about those. i’d like to hit a certain someone with a stick, but im not going to name any names. all i know is that if i had a stick and this certain person was near me right now…i’d whack them upside the head with it. it’s just been one of those days…
the count sings the song about picking up sticks and buckling shoes. Little did he know he was singing for an audience and not just to himself. Count Bisping loved the ol nursery rhyme since his days at the orphanage
Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me. But that’s not true, is it? It seems that tonight as we’re throwing plates around the kitchen and slamming cupboards, you’ve taken it upon yourself to prove that to me. You call me your worst nightmare and your biggest mistake and you say I’m worthless and pointless and even though I know that what you’re saying won’t really matter in the long run, next year and the year after that and the year after that, I can feel your words as they crash through my ears and go straight to that place in between my heart and my stomach, where the butterflies with the broken wings hide away.
purple. times new roman font. uncapitalized. can make other words. reminds me of pencils. i cant think of anything to write now. this is stupid. there isnt a period at the end either. …
sticks and stones may break my bones, but turds will never hurt me. 1 2 pick up sticks. Sticks and stones are also rock bands. Twigs are often called sticks, and you can stick something, but you cannot twig something.
this one day i was riding a bull. but this was no ordinary bull, this was a bull which had an extradordinary veritcal. so i took him around the world and he would jump over all kinds of sticks. big ones, small ones, he was a world champ.
Sticks are dead. Dead as in dead. Very dead. As a child I would flutter about the forests and “plant” them, in hopes that they, the severed limbs of great trees, would magically sprout more trees. Children are very dumb, you see, and believe that frogs can turn into princes… Sticks growing into tall, limber trees is much easier to believe with that logic.