Her hair felt like straw, brittle and dry.
Blonde strands split between my fingers as I
forced her to knees on the kitchen floor.
I demanded more…
son baiser, j’adore.
the straw was extra long and curly, bright yellow, twisting into the air from the cup like a crazy wild vine. She took comfort in the straw, as it brought back memories of a happy time in her life.
There is a piece of straw that I use to tickle her feet while she lays on the porch sipping and cool drink in the heavy summer heat. The straw from the field waves to us as a friend distant yet always there…..
It was an old fashioned one, like when she was a young girl, with red and white stripes running up and down it. Nowadays, nobody even bothered with straws anymore. They were a thing of the past, like common sense/
Straw is kinda like hay, only it seems more course i guess. horses usually eat it, and cows, and they sleep in it, and poop in it. ya thats kinda gross they eat what they pee and poop on. it comes from grass that is dried in the sun and then bailed, they make it into large bails, that are circular. when i was little my sister called the bails tumble weeds, but there not, just bails of hay….or straw. straw can be found on a farm. because basically like all farm animals like straw, they eat it and live in it and poop on it, or wait i already said that. ya straw is kinda important to the world. It is acuatly a leftover product, but it seems pretty important for the left overs. farmers make straw on their farm.
I remember when I was little and my mother always had a different colored straw for each drink I would have every day. They were pink, yellow, green, blue. All comforting and fun and part of my childhood. Where would I be without those straws? I still see them and think back to my days of playing in the street with my siblings and thinking I was invincible. They are a part of me, those colorful bendy straws, and they always will be.
Straw. I like to use straws, but only the small skinny ones. I don’t like big fat straws because I like to control how much liquid comes into my mouth at one time. I prefer to bite my straws and I tend to chew on them a lot. I hate drinking anything without straws because the ice blocks the liquid from getting in my mouth and it frustrates me so much. If I had to choose a color it would be green, or maybe pink. I don’t know why.
This was it. It was the last straw. Why did he have to do it? One drink was all he had he said. Then why did the call stop suddenly? Why did I hear the squealingof tires right before he hung up?
There are many meanings to words in the English language. Straw, for example, could mean the bedding of livestock, where they rest their tired feet in the evenings or lay their heads down in dark night, or it could mean the utensil needed to drink out of a happy can of soda.
She poked her smoothie with a straw. It was lumpy and icy. He never made them this way.
“Are you distracted?” She asked him.
“What? No.”
She skewered a strawberry and glanced at him over her glasses.
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
drink long skiny black white pink coke soft drink juice alcohol restaurant pub hotel hay farm horse cow sip child baby water yellow bendy flexible flick chew
It was the last straw. Jacob pulled another cheerio from my hair as I angrily fumed and puffed on about what my little toddler had said.
“Daddy says it, too!” He retaliated.
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay!”
“But daddy says it, too!”
He boasted and bragged about the last word he was taught. He honestly thought he was funny.
“Does he actually call me that, Jake?” I asked while turning around and looking at my eldest son.
“Yes, mother.”
I breathe in deeply. Straw fills my nose. It’s such a familiar scent in the world of turmoil. As across the ocean war perseveres, straw smells the same. Maybe it’s stupid, but it’s *something* that is the same. Always the same.
yellow, smell like a farm, food for animals huge bales of hay piled up in a field. no animals in sight, just straw and trees as far as the eye can see. a farmer in plaid with a rake. a red barn. a family with straw yellow hair.
The sun shone down onto the individual blades of grass, and it sent me thinking. I hadn’t seen my friends in days; I hadn’t had any contact with people in hours. And I couldn’t ignore the feeds of happy pictures and warm virtual days. I felt lonely under the sun, but I grabbed my dog and patted her shedding back. It felt good to be lonely; it felt right. I picked around until I found the perfect sized piece of straw and stuck it between my lips. I was a loner, but a good one at that, one who could smile under the most invisible pressure and contact.
The straw was itchy against my back that night. He was lying next to me breathing deeply in sleep and I was thinking. Where do we go from here? Is this all there is? Tomorrow will be a new day, I thought.
it was the last straw, and she couldn’t take it anymore. she collapsed to the floor, crying, letting all the things she couldn’t say out loud. and then, it was over, just as soon as it started.
straws have been drawn, and i’ve found that i have lost. i finf that i am always losing. to you, and to my emotions. i wish that i could control how i feel, but that is true for no one. i know that it is unorthodox to wish for a life void of emotion, but tht is what i want today.
I remember everyhting tastes better through a straw. From those crysanthemum books. those were great I loved those. I had the best pictures books. I remember drawing pictures in kindergarten. How I drew people that were too tall and elizabeth questioned me about it. I miss being a kid where you couldnt care. Those were the days. Now i have finals and school and imporant work to do.
a straw is a thin plastic tube with hollow insides. Just think, what would the world be like without straws? no more drinking out of your cups conveniently. Back to the drawing board, boys and girls. what
The straw mat was itchy and sticky but I endured. While I waited to be rescued or even found. I still wasn’t sure that man had really seen us.
Sigh
We were never going to get out of here. And my sister would pay for it and my mother would answers to it. And my brother would have to suffer for it.
Straws are drinking utensils. You use them to drink or even eat sometimes. They are handy if you stop breathing and need a trake. Straws are wonderful little creations made in 1940 by John Newton III. Did you know that? They are seriously cool things though. Don’t you think?
“The straw that broke the camel’s back”. I’ve heard about it before, but never knew what it meant until now. Now, I know. I’ve experienced it, first hand, up close and personal. Enough already! I can’t take anymore, shit!
It wasn’t the last straw. It never was.
As she drew the shortest straw, a sigh of relief passed through the group. She stared into her hand, determined to accomplish what others gave up so easily. It was a chance to prover herself.
He chewed the bit of straw as if it were a last supper, though I think it was only that he was in a deep concentration. We sat in the countryside together – right next to one another- in the field, voicing not a word.
Those were the most deeply simplistic moments of my life. I loved him then, as I continue to now despite the passing of time and illicit lovers.
I like to use it to drink shakes and bloody Marie’s. I like to see crazy ones and can also see animals resting in it. Horses eat it and hair can look at it.
its what i use to drink. sometimes you put that shit in scarecrows. it makes them bulk up, but in a soft awesome way. if you like cocaine then straws are your best friend. chop up a line, cut a straw into about a quarter of its full length and snort that shit up! Wooooooooooot
a tunnel from liquid to that big old cavity in your face. transports said liquid into cavity. requires much sucking. multicolored and striped. flavored straws would be nice.
E milkshake bar was closing and the town didn’t know how to react. The only place where kids could gather was going. What would they do now? The local priest was warning of dire consequences; of the town becoming another sodom, the kids running wild with nothing left to do. No money, however, could be found to keep e place open. Obidiah Preston refused to sell the business to anyone. The town pleaded but he simply turned his face away and hung up the closing soon sign.
when ones hair is oily and stringy, one says “My hair is straw!” In the olden days people used to fill their mattresses with straw as a cushioning device. That was a common factor among Peasants and nobles- no matter the size of the castle, no ,matter the size of the bed, everyone had straw in their matress.
I think of a smoothy that can never smoothly go up the straw for your enjoyment. Its extremely frustrating and if they could just make a straw with a better suction,. smoothies would be more enjoyable. I also think of a straw hat on a hot summer day. Breezy and stylish. very convenient! It makes me think of the times i had in catalina, when my mom would put me in those damn hats!.. good times
the longest thinly hollow tube that one can use for various reasons: sucking, sketching, viewing, perspective and everything else that expands the mind. It’s narrowness can also lead to think that looking at it in one way doesn’t give the best view for many of us around. the straw is also in various colours, blue, green, pink, purple and white.
In the romantic, old-fashioned novels there was always sweet smelling straw. It gave comfort from the rain and offered shelter to wandering lovers. Ava had tried laying in the straw in the barn once and imagined that the Scribner’s stable boy was laying next to her. But the straw smelled like cows and the animals looked at her curiously. The straw stabbed at her and stuck into her sweater like porcupine quills. She never tried it again. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing. There was nothing like romantic, old-fashioned straw in the real world.
Her hair felt like straw, brittle and dry.
Blonde strands split between my fingers as I
forced her to knees on the kitchen floor.
I demanded more…
son baiser, j’adore.
the straw was extra long and curly, bright yellow, twisting into the air from the cup like a crazy wild vine. She took comfort in the straw, as it brought back memories of a happy time in her life.
Hay. Pop. Lids. Coke. Cups. Mcdonalds. Fast Food. Summer. Lemonade. Ice. Scarecrows. Horses. Fields.
There is a piece of straw that I use to tickle her feet while she lays on the porch sipping and cool drink in the heavy summer heat. The straw from the field waves to us as a friend distant yet always there…..
Straws bend,
Like my passion.
They both bend and bend
But they never break.
It was an old fashioned one, like when she was a young girl, with red and white stripes running up and down it. Nowadays, nobody even bothered with straws anymore. They were a thing of the past, like common sense/
Straw is kinda like hay, only it seems more course i guess. horses usually eat it, and cows, and they sleep in it, and poop in it. ya thats kinda gross they eat what they pee and poop on. it comes from grass that is dried in the sun and then bailed, they make it into large bails, that are circular. when i was little my sister called the bails tumble weeds, but there not, just bails of hay….or straw. straw can be found on a farm. because basically like all farm animals like straw, they eat it and live in it and poop on it, or wait i already said that. ya straw is kinda important to the world. It is acuatly a leftover product, but it seems pretty important for the left overs. farmers make straw on their farm.
I remember when I was little and my mother always had a different colored straw for each drink I would have every day. They were pink, yellow, green, blue. All comforting and fun and part of my childhood. Where would I be without those straws? I still see them and think back to my days of playing in the street with my siblings and thinking I was invincible. They are a part of me, those colorful bendy straws, and they always will be.
I forgot the straw!
I just remembered this when I saw the prompt. You see, I’ve been making smoothies most days recently, but had just a bit ago went to stay with my dad.
I brought the smoothie mix, the ice cream, the strawberries. I forgot the straw!
How will I drink it now?
Straw. I like to use straws, but only the small skinny ones. I don’t like big fat straws because I like to control how much liquid comes into my mouth at one time. I prefer to bite my straws and I tend to chew on them a lot. I hate drinking anything without straws because the ice blocks the liquid from getting in my mouth and it frustrates me so much. If I had to choose a color it would be green, or maybe pink. I don’t know why.
This was it. It was the last straw. Why did he have to do it? One drink was all he had he said. Then why did the call stop suddenly? Why did I hear the squealingof tires right before he hung up?
dry yellowed hair. teenage bleach jobs.
There are many meanings to words in the English language. Straw, for example, could mean the bedding of livestock, where they rest their tired feet in the evenings or lay their heads down in dark night, or it could mean the utensil needed to drink out of a happy can of soda.
She poked her smoothie with a straw. It was lumpy and icy. He never made them this way.
“Are you distracted?” She asked him.
“What? No.”
She skewered a strawberry and glanced at him over her glasses.
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
drink long skiny black white pink coke soft drink juice alcohol restaurant pub hotel hay farm horse cow sip child baby water yellow bendy flexible flick chew
It was the last straw. Jacob pulled another cheerio from my hair as I angrily fumed and puffed on about what my little toddler had said.
“Daddy says it, too!” He retaliated.
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay!”
“But daddy says it, too!”
He boasted and bragged about the last word he was taught. He honestly thought he was funny.
“Does he actually call me that, Jake?” I asked while turning around and looking at my eldest son.
“Yes, mother.”
I breathe in deeply. Straw fills my nose. It’s such a familiar scent in the world of turmoil. As across the ocean war perseveres, straw smells the same. Maybe it’s stupid, but it’s *something* that is the same. Always the same.
yellow, smell like a farm, food for animals huge bales of hay piled up in a field. no animals in sight, just straw and trees as far as the eye can see. a farmer in plaid with a rake. a red barn. a family with straw yellow hair.
The sun shone down onto the individual blades of grass, and it sent me thinking. I hadn’t seen my friends in days; I hadn’t had any contact with people in hours. And I couldn’t ignore the feeds of happy pictures and warm virtual days. I felt lonely under the sun, but I grabbed my dog and patted her shedding back. It felt good to be lonely; it felt right. I picked around until I found the perfect sized piece of straw and stuck it between my lips. I was a loner, but a good one at that, one who could smile under the most invisible pressure and contact.
The straw was itchy against my back that night. He was lying next to me breathing deeply in sleep and I was thinking. Where do we go from here? Is this all there is? Tomorrow will be a new day, I thought.
it was the last straw, and she couldn’t take it anymore. she collapsed to the floor, crying, letting all the things she couldn’t say out loud. and then, it was over, just as soon as it started.
straws have been drawn, and i’ve found that i have lost. i finf that i am always losing. to you, and to my emotions. i wish that i could control how i feel, but that is true for no one. i know that it is unorthodox to wish for a life void of emotion, but tht is what i want today.
I remember everyhting tastes better through a straw. From those crysanthemum books. those were great I loved those. I had the best pictures books. I remember drawing pictures in kindergarten. How I drew people that were too tall and elizabeth questioned me about it. I miss being a kid where you couldnt care. Those were the days. Now i have finals and school and imporant work to do.
a straw is a thin plastic tube with hollow insides. Just think, what would the world be like without straws? no more drinking out of your cups conveniently. Back to the drawing board, boys and girls. what
The straw mat was itchy and sticky but I endured. While I waited to be rescued or even found. I still wasn’t sure that man had really seen us.
Sigh
We were never going to get out of here. And my sister would pay for it and my mother would answers to it. And my brother would have to suffer for it.
_________
/ ______
! /
! !
! !
! !
! !
! !
Straws are drinking utensils. You use them to drink or even eat sometimes. They are handy if you stop breathing and need a trake. Straws are wonderful little creations made in 1940 by John Newton III. Did you know that? They are seriously cool things though. Don’t you think?
slirp and slirp until there is nothing left. The straw is such a strange yet brillient invention if you think about it.
“The straw that broke the camel’s back”. I’ve heard about it before, but never knew what it meant until now. Now, I know. I’ve experienced it, first hand, up close and personal. Enough already! I can’t take anymore, shit!
It wasn’t the last straw. It never was.
As she drew the shortest straw, a sigh of relief passed through the group. She stared into her hand, determined to accomplish what others gave up so easily. It was a chance to prover herself.
He chewed the bit of straw as if it were a last supper, though I think it was only that he was in a deep concentration. We sat in the countryside together – right next to one another- in the field, voicing not a word.
Those were the most deeply simplistic moments of my life. I loved him then, as I continue to now despite the passing of time and illicit lovers.
Well straws are cool. I like drawing straws. I mean except for when i lose. I was never good at drawing.
____
/ ___
/ /
/ /
/ /
I like to use it to drink shakes and bloody Marie’s. I like to see crazy ones and can also see animals resting in it. Horses eat it and hair can look at it.
its what i use to drink. sometimes you put that shit in scarecrows. it makes them bulk up, but in a soft awesome way. if you like cocaine then straws are your best friend. chop up a line, cut a straw into about a quarter of its full length and snort that shit up! Wooooooooooot
a tunnel from liquid to that big old cavity in your face. transports said liquid into cavity. requires much sucking. multicolored and striped. flavored straws would be nice.
E milkshake bar was closing and the town didn’t know how to react. The only place where kids could gather was going. What would they do now? The local priest was warning of dire consequences; of the town becoming another sodom, the kids running wild with nothing left to do. No money, however, could be found to keep e place open. Obidiah Preston refused to sell the business to anyone. The town pleaded but he simply turned his face away and hung up the closing soon sign.
when ones hair is oily and stringy, one says “My hair is straw!” In the olden days people used to fill their mattresses with straw as a cushioning device. That was a common factor among Peasants and nobles- no matter the size of the castle, no ,matter the size of the bed, everyone had straw in their matress.
I think of a smoothy that can never smoothly go up the straw for your enjoyment. Its extremely frustrating and if they could just make a straw with a better suction,. smoothies would be more enjoyable. I also think of a straw hat on a hot summer day. Breezy and stylish. very convenient! It makes me think of the times i had in catalina, when my mom would put me in those damn hats!.. good times
the longest thinly hollow tube that one can use for various reasons: sucking, sketching, viewing, perspective and everything else that expands the mind. It’s narrowness can also lead to think that looking at it in one way doesn’t give the best view for many of us around. the straw is also in various colours, blue, green, pink, purple and white.
In the romantic, old-fashioned novels there was always sweet smelling straw. It gave comfort from the rain and offered shelter to wandering lovers. Ava had tried laying in the straw in the barn once and imagined that the Scribner’s stable boy was laying next to her. But the straw smelled like cows and the animals looked at her curiously. The straw stabbed at her and stuck into her sweater like porcupine quills. She never tried it again. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing. There was nothing like romantic, old-fashioned straw in the real world.