broom broom broom dirt floor clean MUST CLEAN dobby house elves hogwarts yes good SPEW Hermione granger harry potter ron weasley molly ginger sirius goblet of fire jk rowling wow i love her tumblr hunger games katniss
Sweep. A sweepstakes. Wouldn’t it be nice to win someday? I used to dream about the people from Publisher’s Clearing House coming to my grandmother’s in the summer and telling her that she had won the grand prize. She applied nearly every year. I would venture to say she’s spent about a million dollars in postage. Just an estimate…
sweep me off my feet. sweep my pootang under the table with yo ratchette ass broom. i did sweep your mothers dusty vag bacteria into the corner. sweep babies into trycicles. i sweep.
A sweep of time, a sweep of life. That was how quickly it seems to pass, as quickly as someone would sweep dust under a rug. She swept my life away, pushed it under the rug. it wasn’t important, it wasn’t significant. Just like dust on the floor, it didn’t matter.
I was sweeping the floors the other day and came across the weirdest thing on the ground. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I contemplated whether or not it was just a shriveled up crumb from the kitchen but then it started to move. And not move like one of those silver fish bugs, ew, I hate those. It slowly crept along the tile floor for a few seconds, and then quickened its pace for the next few seconds…
her hair. her laugh. her ability to make everyone around her feel like at ease.
off my feet.
it’s funny cause in the stories it’s always the other way around, isn’t it?
the floor was filthy and the incursion began. we couldn’t help but combat the desire to stray beyond the indifference of dreams. then it came. we were bewitched by strangers. we thought we could have commuted more crimes but I decide to spit in another direction.
I was sweeping the kitchen floor when I found a toothbrush beneath all the rubish. I picked it up and gave it a good examination to try to figure out whose it is. Its not mine and its not Lacys, so whos could it be? I went to the neighbors house to ask who’s it is and it wasnt theirs either.
My mother always told me to sweep under my bed. As a lazy teenager looking for the quick route out of everything, I took this to mean “sweep all the clutter from the rest of the floor under the bed.” And then one day a strange smell came…. not a bad smell, kind of like… chocolate chip cookies, freshly baked. From under my bed. So, I poked my head under…. and was never seen by my mother, or anyone, ever again.
Are there even real pleasures in life?
Life moves on whether you’re happy or not.
Carving its numbers and letters into your face with a careless notion.
And as time progresses, every little edge gets darker, and darker,making up for the lost memories from the days when you were younger.
Life means nothing when you cannot remember anything.
Smiles never happened if you don’t remember you took the effort to make them.
The same with tears and friends and lovers.
Time erodes the faces of man like cliffs and the seas
Sweeping back and forth, back and forth in what seems
Like a crawling, sweeping, etching motion; Craddling and whispering “Remember when?”
Are there even real sorrows in life?
Life moves on whether you’re patheticly drowning or not, Just living day by day
from one pleasure, or sorrow to another.
And the words spoken and actioned played,
stay all until your next move.
But when you move on, the smiles, the laughs…
They mean nothing when life moves on this quickly.
The rough straw broom scraped along the worn stones. The priestess calmly continued her work, moving with slow deliberate movements, until she reached the end of the entryway. There was a faint gleam in her soft, brown eyes and her grip on the rough wooden handle, betrayed something deeper, something darker.
“Anka?” The Head Priest rounded the corner, his sharp, dark eyes seeing everything that she did not say outright. “How many?” He asked, at last. His black eyes shifted to fix their gaze on the tall, looming mountains that hid the sanctuary.
“Thirteen.” She continued to sweep, with careful, practiced moments. “And then some.”
“And the others?”
“Five, six, maybe more. A child, I think.”
He sighed, hands folded into the thick, warm sleeves of his outer robe. “Very well. We will do what we must and we shall save all that we can.”
Her shoulders quivered, faintly.
He tilted his head forward, capturing her eyes with his own. “The path we walk is not an easy one.” He reminded. “But we are able to make a clean sweep of it all at the end of every day. The people that are coming to us, seek sanctuary and peace for their troubled souls. We are beacons and we are guardians.” His expression softened. “We do not fight, for He fights for us.”
With a sweep and a leap I want to free myself from this silly body. Little saddle bag organs and tethers of veins are keeping me as the hostility grows. I implode. When there’s no where to get out, you gotta strike within.
sweeping is the act of using a broom so sweep up dust and other bits of garbage from the floor. sweeping can also be done without a broom, instead by using your hands or some sort of brush-like object.
I want to SWEEP my life clean all of the sad things I feel all of the time and just move onto feel a little sad at time so the good times can feel the best..
Cosette looked by as the Thenadiers celebrated the arrival of Eponine, she’s been told to sweep the floors of the cafe, what else is new, she was jealous of Eponine always had been, it was clear they loved her more…She was always sweeping, and getting dirty, no baths were ever provided she hated it.
sweep is what you do with a broom. you sweep up dirt and dust and other shit on thw floor. It’s not exactly fun, but it’s an activity. some people get paid to sweep. i don’t ever want a job where i must sweep all the time
You swept me away, with all your secretive glances and beautiful smiles that made my heart soar like a butterfly. You made me feel like I was the only girl in the world who mattered, until you stripped away your mask, and showed me what you were like. You showed that beneath the mask was simply a collection of devious lies, the most twisted of evil thoughts and a black, black heart.
She sits on the floor in an empty house, the ghosts floating around her. She can sense them, but not see them. The ghosts of her mistakes. Her whole body shudders with great sobs as she crouches in the pool of her dirty dress and she knows she will have to sweep the floor soon. What else is there to do?
sweeping eyes and fleeting smiles, moments that simply don’t last long enough because i’m much too fickle.
you’ll fall for me and i’ll sweep you up before i’m gone since you don’t know that i’ve been crumbling apart for quite some time now. no need to concern yourself with collecting the shards of me, you shouldn’t even compel yourself to sweep my pieces under the rug or into the dustpan for you won’t have to step around the scattered wreckage, i’ll travel with the breeze by the time you put down the broom.
the rain was like a broom, sweeping away the sorrow, the pain, the hope the joy the loss until there was nothing left, nothing but brittle skin and bones, the few things which made her human washed away leaving behind an empty slate of a once-girl.
why live life from dream to dream just sweep it all under the rug until you can’t sweep no more. Sweeping is and underrated passion or priviledge. I haven’t swept in along time.Swept anything in a long time. House heart home
She made a sweeping gesture toward the young, handsome man. He laughed as he turned to her. They walked hand in hand down the lane to the creek. It was there that they saw it. They were suddenly aware of all that was around them. This presented a whole new set of adventures for the young couple.
she swept the dust from the room, out the door, onto the steps, onto the cobblestones. satisfied with her work, she looked out onto the street. it was springtime, there was cheer in the air. young lads dashing about everywhere, women going about their business, and elderly people simply enjoying the sunshine.
We all revel in the moments when we feel the least amount of love. There’s something so marvelously sickly-sweet about being the shattered remains of porcelain on the floor: we all just want someone to sweep us up. In remaining broken, we can convince ourselves the world is not enough–such a sweet relief, an escape from the expectations we can shirk as incomplete creatures.
the lonely shopkeeper slowly walked to the front of his shop, turning his OPEN sign to CLOSED. He straightened up his ill visited shop, sweeping the floors, restocking what little stock had left his store. He was always looking for something to get people into his little shop that sold nicnacs and other useless items, when he thought, “what about this very broom I’m holding in my hands?” He pondered the idea for quite a while before deciding he would start selling brooms to anyone who needed them.
Sweep? Balayer? Eh bien, pourquoi pas!
Une image. C’est une fille, elle a 20 ans… Cheveux long, mais…. attaché! Jeans neutre et t-shirt noir. Très jolie! Balais en main, voilà la musique commence! Oh on a droit a Sunny Afternoon.. Eu du haut de son air je-m’en-fou-iste, un petit sourire se dessine sur ses lèvres a mesure que le soleil se couche.
LIke most things, I hid everything underneath. The ornamental design of the carpet was just a mask, just a face I put on; the rest I sweep under my skin.
Today, as I walked into my apartment I’ve noticed that the floor was dirty. Quickly, I opened the Waher/Dryer compartment and got my Sweeper ;)… then i proceeded to clean my floor. DONE. My apartment was clean.
Sweeping through the deathly hollows of the Forrest, the owl rode the streamy night air. It had the grace of a ballerina with the fierce nature of a tiger. He was the master of the night. Peering through the branches of the forest, I watched this creature of silence.
I swept the floor before I went to bed. I knew I had to or else I’d be in big trouble. Mom is always telling me I need to pick up after myself, that I need to prove my responsibility. But haven’t I already done that? Yes. I have. By staying alive in this bizarre world.
sweeep my arse i dont know what you think your doing sweeping my stuff away you bastard ill stick you. you and your sister tooi. im sick of this treatment from ignorant trogolodytes like you . i had nearly finished rolling that joint and along you come with your high faluting talk and sweep it offhte table. why i oughta …. oh i havent been stopped yet . i thought id be stopped after 60 seconds .was thst a cunning ruse? i wonder any way are you just gonna leave me here pecking away with my horrible hunt and peck typing . why i oughta … ok now im getting disillusioned .is this some kinda shit post modrn joke . ha aha aha
sweep makes me think of baseball. it makes me think of the red sox. when they do well of course. i used to watch baseball all the time. it now reminds me of my ex which i would rather not think about so now i watch football more often. my boyfriend and i share football and anything that makes me think of dave is a good thing. we are perfect for each other and i love him more than i have ever loved an man in my life.
broom broom broom dirt floor clean MUST CLEAN dobby house elves hogwarts yes good SPEW Hermione granger harry potter ron weasley molly ginger sirius goblet of fire jk rowling wow i love her tumblr hunger games katniss
My grandchildren always look at me funny when I sweep my brick sidewalk. They feel that anything outdoors can stay dirty.
Sweep. A sweepstakes. Wouldn’t it be nice to win someday? I used to dream about the people from Publisher’s Clearing House coming to my grandmother’s in the summer and telling her that she had won the grand prize. She applied nearly every year. I would venture to say she’s spent about a million dollars in postage. Just an estimate…
sweep me off my feet. sweep my pootang under the table with yo ratchette ass broom. i did sweep your mothers dusty vag bacteria into the corner. sweep babies into trycicles. i sweep.
A sweep of time, a sweep of life. That was how quickly it seems to pass, as quickly as someone would sweep dust under a rug. She swept my life away, pushed it under the rug. it wasn’t important, it wasn’t significant. Just like dust on the floor, it didn’t matter.
I was sweeping the floors the other day and came across the weirdest thing on the ground. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I contemplated whether or not it was just a shriveled up crumb from the kitchen but then it started to move. And not move like one of those silver fish bugs, ew, I hate those. It slowly crept along the tile floor for a few seconds, and then quickened its pace for the next few seconds…
sweep sleep sheep peep leap deep, she counted words as she tried to drift off blah blah blah blah feeling so uninspired today……….
her hair. her laugh. her ability to make everyone around her feel like at ease.
off my feet.
it’s funny cause in the stories it’s always the other way around, isn’t it?
the floor was filthy and the incursion began. we couldn’t help but combat the desire to stray beyond the indifference of dreams. then it came. we were bewitched by strangers. we thought we could have commuted more crimes but I decide to spit in another direction.
steel is still.
I was sweeping the kitchen floor when I found a toothbrush beneath all the rubish. I picked it up and gave it a good examination to try to figure out whose it is. Its not mine and its not Lacys, so whos could it be? I went to the neighbors house to ask who’s it is and it wasnt theirs either.
My mother always told me to sweep under my bed. As a lazy teenager looking for the quick route out of everything, I took this to mean “sweep all the clutter from the rest of the floor under the bed.” And then one day a strange smell came…. not a bad smell, kind of like… chocolate chip cookies, freshly baked. From under my bed. So, I poked my head under…. and was never seen by my mother, or anyone, ever again.
there you go again
out of my sight
out of my reach
and i’ll push all my feelings under the rug again
until you come back to me.
Are there even real pleasures in life?
Life moves on whether you’re happy or not.
Carving its numbers and letters into your face with a careless notion.
And as time progresses, every little edge gets darker, and darker,making up for the lost memories from the days when you were younger.
Life means nothing when you cannot remember anything.
Smiles never happened if you don’t remember you took the effort to make them.
The same with tears and friends and lovers.
Time erodes the faces of man like cliffs and the seas
Sweeping back and forth, back and forth in what seems
Like a crawling, sweeping, etching motion; Craddling and whispering “Remember when?”
Are there even real sorrows in life?
Life moves on whether you’re patheticly drowning or not, Just living day by day
from one pleasure, or sorrow to another.
And the words spoken and actioned played,
stay all until your next move.
But when you move on, the smiles, the laughs…
They mean nothing when life moves on this quickly.
sweep me off my feet like a broom made of flowers
make me a bucay
and give me to our future
Swish. Swap. Swish.
The rough straw broom scraped along the worn stones. The priestess calmly continued her work, moving with slow deliberate movements, until she reached the end of the entryway. There was a faint gleam in her soft, brown eyes and her grip on the rough wooden handle, betrayed something deeper, something darker.
“Anka?” The Head Priest rounded the corner, his sharp, dark eyes seeing everything that she did not say outright. “How many?” He asked, at last. His black eyes shifted to fix their gaze on the tall, looming mountains that hid the sanctuary.
“Thirteen.” She continued to sweep, with careful, practiced moments. “And then some.”
“And the others?”
“Five, six, maybe more. A child, I think.”
He sighed, hands folded into the thick, warm sleeves of his outer robe. “Very well. We will do what we must and we shall save all that we can.”
Her shoulders quivered, faintly.
He tilted his head forward, capturing her eyes with his own. “The path we walk is not an easy one.” He reminded. “But we are able to make a clean sweep of it all at the end of every day. The people that are coming to us, seek sanctuary and peace for their troubled souls. We are beacons and we are guardians.” His expression softened. “We do not fight, for He fights for us.”
With a sweep and a leap I want to free myself from this silly body. Little saddle bag organs and tethers of veins are keeping me as the hostility grows. I implode. When there’s no where to get out, you gotta strike within.
Back and forth I sweep my broom. Dust bunnies scurry away. After making the disappear, I sweep my ceiling to rid it of those nasty spiderwebs.
sweeping is the act of using a broom so sweep up dust and other bits of garbage from the floor. sweeping can also be done without a broom, instead by using your hands or some sort of brush-like object.
I want to SWEEP my life clean all of the sad things I feel all of the time and just move onto feel a little sad at time so the good times can feel the best..
Cosette looked by as the Thenadiers celebrated the arrival of Eponine, she’s been told to sweep the floors of the cafe, what else is new, she was jealous of Eponine always had been, it was clear they loved her more…She was always sweeping, and getting dirty, no baths were ever provided she hated it.
sweep is what you do with a broom. you sweep up dirt and dust and other shit on thw floor. It’s not exactly fun, but it’s an activity. some people get paid to sweep. i don’t ever want a job where i must sweep all the time
the bad dreams about last night nd then go to dance think about the good dreams you had las night and then kiss me like this was the last time.
You swept me away, with all your secretive glances and beautiful smiles that made my heart soar like a butterfly. You made me feel like I was the only girl in the world who mattered, until you stripped away your mask, and showed me what you were like. You showed that beneath the mask was simply a collection of devious lies, the most twisted of evil thoughts and a black, black heart.
Under the rug.
Into the darkness.
Brushed aside; Brushed, so harshly.
A sweet weep.
She sits on the floor in an empty house, the ghosts floating around her. She can sense them, but not see them. The ghosts of her mistakes. Her whole body shudders with great sobs as she crouches in the pool of her dirty dress and she knows she will have to sweep the floor soon. What else is there to do?
sweeping eyes and fleeting smiles, moments that simply don’t last long enough because i’m much too fickle.
you’ll fall for me and i’ll sweep you up before i’m gone since you don’t know that i’ve been crumbling apart for quite some time now. no need to concern yourself with collecting the shards of me, you shouldn’t even compel yourself to sweep my pieces under the rug or into the dustpan for you won’t have to step around the scattered wreckage, i’ll travel with the breeze by the time you put down the broom.
the rain was like a broom, sweeping away the sorrow, the pain, the hope the joy the loss until there was nothing left, nothing but brittle skin and bones, the few things which made her human washed away leaving behind an empty slate of a once-girl.
why live life from dream to dream just sweep it all under the rug until you can’t sweep no more. Sweeping is and underrated passion or priviledge. I haven’t swept in along time.Swept anything in a long time. House heart home
She made a sweeping gesture toward the young, handsome man. He laughed as he turned to her. They walked hand in hand down the lane to the creek. It was there that they saw it. They were suddenly aware of all that was around them. This presented a whole new set of adventures for the young couple.
she swept the dust from the room, out the door, onto the steps, onto the cobblestones. satisfied with her work, she looked out onto the street. it was springtime, there was cheer in the air. young lads dashing about everywhere, women going about their business, and elderly people simply enjoying the sunshine.
We all revel in the moments when we feel the least amount of love. There’s something so marvelously sickly-sweet about being the shattered remains of porcelain on the floor: we all just want someone to sweep us up. In remaining broken, we can convince ourselves the world is not enough–such a sweet relief, an escape from the expectations we can shirk as incomplete creatures.
the lonely shopkeeper slowly walked to the front of his shop, turning his OPEN sign to CLOSED. He straightened up his ill visited shop, sweeping the floors, restocking what little stock had left his store. He was always looking for something to get people into his little shop that sold nicnacs and other useless items, when he thought, “what about this very broom I’m holding in my hands?” He pondered the idea for quite a while before deciding he would start selling brooms to anyone who needed them.
Sweep? Balayer? Eh bien, pourquoi pas!
Une image. C’est une fille, elle a 20 ans… Cheveux long, mais…. attaché! Jeans neutre et t-shirt noir. Très jolie! Balais en main, voilà la musique commence! Oh on a droit a Sunny Afternoon.. Eu du haut de son air je-m’en-fou-iste, un petit sourire se dessine sur ses lèvres a mesure que le soleil se couche.
LIke most things, I hid everything underneath. The ornamental design of the carpet was just a mask, just a face I put on; the rest I sweep under my skin.
Today, as I walked into my apartment I’ve noticed that the floor was dirty. Quickly, I opened the Waher/Dryer compartment and got my Sweeper ;)… then i proceeded to clean my floor. DONE. My apartment was clean.
Sweep it under the rug…I’ll think about it tomorrow. Sweep me away to another time and place.
Sweeping through the deathly hollows of the Forrest, the owl rode the streamy night air. It had the grace of a ballerina with the fierce nature of a tiger. He was the master of the night. Peering through the branches of the forest, I watched this creature of silence.
I swept the floor before I went to bed. I knew I had to or else I’d be in big trouble. Mom is always telling me I need to pick up after myself, that I need to prove my responsibility. But haven’t I already done that? Yes. I have. By staying alive in this bizarre world.
sweeep my arse i dont know what you think your doing sweeping my stuff away you bastard ill stick you. you and your sister tooi. im sick of this treatment from ignorant trogolodytes like you . i had nearly finished rolling that joint and along you come with your high faluting talk and sweep it offhte table. why i oughta …. oh i havent been stopped yet . i thought id be stopped after 60 seconds .was thst a cunning ruse? i wonder any way are you just gonna leave me here pecking away with my horrible hunt and peck typing . why i oughta … ok now im getting disillusioned .is this some kinda shit post modrn joke . ha aha aha
sweep makes me think of baseball. it makes me think of the red sox. when they do well of course. i used to watch baseball all the time. it now reminds me of my ex which i would rather not think about so now i watch football more often. my boyfriend and i share football and anything that makes me think of dave is a good thing. we are perfect for each other and i love him more than i have ever loved an man in my life.