the elephant lifts its trunk to say hello
the hippopotamus opens it’s maw to greet you
the capuchins screech and call
the jaguars roar a quiet salute
the serpents dangle from the branches
The trunk was barely closed and locked. the contents were pushing the box to its limits. the stains at each corner told the tale. Obviously there was something that used to be alive inside. The owner never took good care of her things. It was no surprise that she would be this careless with the trunk. Some habits never change.
We have a trunk that belonged to a man who escaped Nazi Germany before the holocaust. His wife gave it to us long after he had died as a thank you for helping her clean out her basement in preparation for an estate sale when she was downsizing to a much smaller retirement home. I store blankets and old quilts in it, but to me it represents hope and freedom from tyranny.
Her winglike ears flap restlessly, painfully. Wrinkled skin folds atop corded muscles as she grasps twigs and branches with her trunk. Slowly, awkwardly, she drags the makeshift shroud across the shrunken pile of dead-leaf skin and bones that was once her baby. Then, curling her trunk in a spiral above her head, she screams and screams to the lifeless plains and sky.
I packed it all up. Click, and it was locked. All my possessions, everything I love, all in a 4×2 box. I loaded it into my car, and didn’t look back. Not once.
It still sat under her bed—the only thing she hadn’t taken in the move.
She liked to pretend it wasn’t there.
It housed every painful memory she would rather forget.
The body was stuffed in the trunk. Grace had to look away as they lifted the carcass out of the car. Steven laid a hand on her shoulder.
“I know,” he said, smiling sadly. Grace nodded and walked away from the crime scene
The elephants trunk, is fairly long, I am almost certain it takes place of a nose, they can spit water from it, and carry things. It has been my life long goal to slide from a head of an elephant and down their trunk, like you see in the movies. I have no idea if that is possible though but then again don’t they say that nothing is impossible.
The trunk is like the closet for my car. I stuff everything in it that I want to hide, that I don’t want my passengers to see, and the things that I’m too lazy to take up to my room and stuff in my closet.
It was an antique, just like everything around it, but this trunk wasn’t just furniture. It held secrets and stories and traveled to more places than I’d even heard of. I ran my fingers over the brass latch. I needed to open it.
I tucked the trunk beneath my seat. The train was already starting to move. I didn’t even remember where I was going, but I knew that there was an adventure ahead of me, and something clearly not worth remembering behind me. I sat down and gazed out the window, seeing the mountains in the distance as if for the very first time. I was free.
the back of a car where you can store various items such as a spare weel for your car or fishing stuff and mabye clothes or a blanket. Its to store things that you may need in your car at some point during the journey to you destination.
elephant, car – which one is more interesting to write about? Elephant I think although I don’t have much experience with that one. My car doesn’t actually have a “trunk” but it has a “back area” which is usually full of junk and in the summer – perfect fit for golf clubs.
My grandmother’s old trunk was made of cedar, smelled like old people, and looked like a coffin. My mom kept old quilts in it. My brothers hid there when playing Hide N Seek.
There was a body in the trunk of the ’57 chevy oldsmobile. You can’t make trunks as solid as those, you know. That’s the irrelevant part. The body belonged to a woman, a 25 year old woman named Sandra. She liked to take walks at night. Little did she know it where it would land her.
The trunk in the back of the truck was so large that it took four people to load it. It was full of her belongings that she had saved all her life, a life that was now changing.
The trunk grows and shrinks like a live thing that is sometimes bingeing and often on a diet that eats only Christmas gifts and groceries but won’t accept over-sized objects like plush pink life sized elephants which at other times grow there.
My dad keeps this big trunk of treasures in the attic.
I have no idea what’s in it, but I always loved to imagine –
pictures of long-lost loves;
pictures of grandma when she was just a young girl;
boxes of plane tickets;
receipts from perfect dates with Mom,
and dates-gone-wrong with other women.
Someday, I’ll open that trunk
and hopefully be surprised.
Storage. A place to hide everything you don’t want out in the open and making a cluttered mess somewhere. Junk in the Trunk is a wonderful antique business that I love to deal with. They have fun junk. Trunk….the end of it all.
There is a trunk on the back of your car. In a VW beetle, the engine is in the trunk. A trunk is also a big chest that you can put items in that is portable. An elephant has a trunk.
He lifted the trunk onto the train. This was his 9th show this week and he was exhausted … but the show must go on. As he hoisted, the train lurched forward, then took off high-ballin’ The trunk never made it. He realized that he needed some new props. Ah well, off to the dining car for inspiration.
They didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. Picking up the vehicle for someone and just dropping it off. It sounded shady but they needed the extra cash. After locating the vehicle they went and started on their way. The drive would take about two days and they were allotted three to make it there to the drop off.
A shoelace protruded from the trunk
Of the old man’s beaten up Chevy
The police trailing him decided to call in back up
The old man was hard of hearing and light
sensitive so when the sirens blared
he had no idea what was going
on
When his car finally stopped
The police investigated the trunk
And found…
Ein Strunk bleibt übrig, wenn du einen Kohlrabi mit Wurzel komplett abgeknabbert hast, also inklusive Blätter, und die Wurzel benutzt du zum Halten in der Hand und die ist viel zu hart und viel zu sandig, um sie auch noch zu essen, also bleibt der Strunk.
the heat was almost unbearable; the sun
beat down upon our heads as we trudged
across the open field. Water was scarce.
Suddenly an elephant appeared, his trunk
waving and spraying over his body,
splashing, then he was gone.
“Quickly! Into the van!” shouted a man with greasy dark hair to his partner. The two leapt inside, banging elbows and quickly started the car. Screams could be heard from the back as the girl they just wrongfully kidnapped pounded against trunk.
ah elephants and volkswagons, my father’s father’s steamer trunk that lived in our garage, Why? It crossed the Atlantic many times in the 1890’s and early 1900s.
The trunk of the tree rises in front of me. It’s a long way to the top. And hard to get a grip. It looks slippery, mossy, unfriendly to gripping feet. I consider walking away. Trying a different way. But this is it. I can’t back out now. The leafy canopy beckons. I move closer, run my hand on the grooves in the bark. Maybe it could be possible. I raise my hand, I lift my foot. The bark is sticky, coated in sap. I could have a firm grip. I smile. The universe is good.
I opened the back of the car slowly. I knew what as back there, but I was trying to convince myself it wouldn’t look as bad as it did. It would have worked too if it hadn’t smelt so awful. “Yep,” I said. “That would be Mrs. Darling. Or at least, what’s left of her. How long have you left her in here?”
the elephant’s trunk was long and wrinkly. He swooshed it about in the air and Mela laughed as he sprayed her with water. India was truly amazing. She had only been here a week, but already she had been welcomed by the locals and taken in as part of the village she was staying in. She was here helping to build houses, but in her spare time she was making friends.
Silently closing the trunk of the obscure car, the man walked back to his seat and turned the key quickly. Now the body in the bag was hidden from anyone’s view.
The base, the carved base. It broke, the tunnel collapsed, in the end, and it made terrible noise. Monsters collided at it and based the world in veins of cold. I cried never during this time but all them didn’t listen to my cause of brokenness with endless sheer.
I have junk in my trunk. That sounds bad. Maybe I should say that my trunk has widened over the years. That is better. It sits is able to sit and help balance myself so I can hold the kids, my husbands head on my lap, and groceries bags when we run out of room in the car.
I need to lose some weight. My hind end is getting larger. wider. bigger than it has ever been. maybe I can hide it in a trunk somewhere. maybe not. the kids would knock on it and wonder why I am hiding in a trunk. How would I explain that to them? Hide if you don’t like the way you look?
the elephant lifts its trunk to say hello
the hippopotamus opens it’s maw to greet you
the capuchins screech and call
the jaguars roar a quiet salute
the serpents dangle from the branches
The trunk was barely closed and locked. the contents were pushing the box to its limits. the stains at each corner told the tale. Obviously there was something that used to be alive inside. The owner never took good care of her things. It was no surprise that she would be this careless with the trunk. Some habits never change.
We have a trunk that belonged to a man who escaped Nazi Germany before the holocaust. His wife gave it to us long after he had died as a thank you for helping her clean out her basement in preparation for an estate sale when she was downsizing to a much smaller retirement home. I store blankets and old quilts in it, but to me it represents hope and freedom from tyranny.
Her winglike ears flap restlessly, painfully. Wrinkled skin folds atop corded muscles as she grasps twigs and branches with her trunk. Slowly, awkwardly, she drags the makeshift shroud across the shrunken pile of dead-leaf skin and bones that was once her baby. Then, curling her trunk in a spiral above her head, she screams and screams to the lifeless plains and sky.
I packed it all up. Click, and it was locked. All my possessions, everything I love, all in a 4×2 box. I loaded it into my car, and didn’t look back. Not once.
It still sat under her bed—the only thing she hadn’t taken in the move.
She liked to pretend it wasn’t there.
It housed every painful memory she would rather forget.
The body was stuffed in the trunk. Grace had to look away as they lifted the carcass out of the car. Steven laid a hand on her shoulder.
“I know,” he said, smiling sadly. Grace nodded and walked away from the crime scene
The elephants trunk, is fairly long, I am almost certain it takes place of a nose, they can spit water from it, and carry things. It has been my life long goal to slide from a head of an elephant and down their trunk, like you see in the movies. I have no idea if that is possible though but then again don’t they say that nothing is impossible.
The trunk is like the closet for my car. I stuff everything in it that I want to hide, that I don’t want my passengers to see, and the things that I’m too lazy to take up to my room and stuff in my closet.
It was an antique, just like everything around it, but this trunk wasn’t just furniture. It held secrets and stories and traveled to more places than I’d even heard of. I ran my fingers over the brass latch. I needed to open it.
I tucked the trunk beneath my seat. The train was already starting to move. I didn’t even remember where I was going, but I knew that there was an adventure ahead of me, and something clearly not worth remembering behind me. I sat down and gazed out the window, seeing the mountains in the distance as if for the very first time. I was free.
the back of a car where you can store various items such as a spare weel for your car or fishing stuff and mabye clothes or a blanket. Its to store things that you may need in your car at some point during the journey to you destination.
How many times have you locked your keys in the trunk of a car? Have you ever pet an elephant’s trunk?
elephant, car – which one is more interesting to write about? Elephant I think although I don’t have much experience with that one. My car doesn’t actually have a “trunk” but it has a “back area” which is usually full of junk and in the summer – perfect fit for golf clubs.
Trunk
My grandmother’s old trunk was made of cedar, smelled like old people, and looked like a coffin. My mom kept old quilts in it. My brothers hid there when playing Hide N Seek.
There was a body in the trunk of the ’57 chevy oldsmobile. You can’t make trunks as solid as those, you know. That’s the irrelevant part. The body belonged to a woman, a 25 year old woman named Sandra. She liked to take walks at night. Little did she know it where it would land her.
In the trunk, we find a trunk of a trusty tree from which we tried to flee.
The trunk in the back of the truck was so large that it took four people to load it. It was full of her belongings that she had saved all her life, a life that was now changing.
The trunk grows and shrinks like a live thing that is sometimes bingeing and often on a diet that eats only Christmas gifts and groceries but won’t accept over-sized objects like plush pink life sized elephants which at other times grow there.
My dad keeps this big trunk of treasures in the attic.
I have no idea what’s in it, but I always loved to imagine –
pictures of long-lost loves;
pictures of grandma when she was just a young girl;
boxes of plane tickets;
receipts from perfect dates with Mom,
and dates-gone-wrong with other women.
Someday, I’ll open that trunk
and hopefully be surprised.
Storage. A place to hide everything you don’t want out in the open and making a cluttered mess somewhere. Junk in the Trunk is a wonderful antique business that I love to deal with. They have fun junk. Trunk….the end of it all.
There is a trunk on the back of your car. In a VW beetle, the engine is in the trunk. A trunk is also a big chest that you can put items in that is portable. An elephant has a trunk.
He lifted the trunk onto the train. This was his 9th show this week and he was exhausted … but the show must go on. As he hoisted, the train lurched forward, then took off high-ballin’ The trunk never made it. He realized that he needed some new props. Ah well, off to the dining car for inspiration.
They didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. Picking up the vehicle for someone and just dropping it off. It sounded shady but they needed the extra cash. After locating the vehicle they went and started on their way. The drive would take about two days and they were allotted three to make it there to the drop off.
A shoelace protruded from the trunk
Of the old man’s beaten up Chevy
The police trailing him decided to call in back up
The old man was hard of hearing and light
sensitive so when the sirens blared
he had no idea what was going
on
When his car finally stopped
The police investigated the trunk
And found…
Ein Strunk bleibt übrig, wenn du einen Kohlrabi mit Wurzel komplett abgeknabbert hast, also inklusive Blätter, und die Wurzel benutzt du zum Halten in der Hand und die ist viel zu hart und viel zu sandig, um sie auch noch zu essen, also bleibt der Strunk.
the heat was almost unbearable; the sun
beat down upon our heads as we trudged
across the open field. Water was scarce.
Suddenly an elephant appeared, his trunk
waving and spraying over his body,
splashing, then he was gone.
“Quickly! Into the van!” shouted a man with greasy dark hair to his partner. The two leapt inside, banging elbows and quickly started the car. Screams could be heard from the back as the girl they just wrongfully kidnapped pounded against trunk.
ah elephants and volkswagons, my father’s father’s steamer trunk that lived in our garage, Why? It crossed the Atlantic many times in the 1890’s and early 1900s.
The trunk of the tree rises in front of me. It’s a long way to the top. And hard to get a grip. It looks slippery, mossy, unfriendly to gripping feet. I consider walking away. Trying a different way. But this is it. I can’t back out now. The leafy canopy beckons. I move closer, run my hand on the grooves in the bark. Maybe it could be possible. I raise my hand, I lift my foot. The bark is sticky, coated in sap. I could have a firm grip. I smile. The universe is good.
The trunk of the tree was so wide I couldn’t reach my arms around it. Boy! was it big!
I opened the back of the car slowly. I knew what as back there, but I was trying to convince myself it wouldn’t look as bad as it did. It would have worked too if it hadn’t smelt so awful. “Yep,” I said. “That would be Mrs. Darling. Or at least, what’s left of her. How long have you left her in here?”
Trunk
I love trunks. Loved my camp trunk.
Wow… lots of stuff coming up….
Harry Potter’s trunk of course.
A set of antique trunks (more like rounded suitcases really) that I loved but have no room for…
I still have one of my camp trunks. It’s low to the ground and used as an extra low coffee table or seat when needed.
the elephant’s trunk was long and wrinkly. He swooshed it about in the air and Mela laughed as he sprayed her with water. India was truly amazing. She had only been here a week, but already she had been welcomed by the locals and taken in as part of the village she was staying in. She was here helping to build houses, but in her spare time she was making friends.
Silently closing the trunk of the obscure car, the man walked back to his seat and turned the key quickly. Now the body in the bag was hidden from anyone’s view.
“There’s a skull in the trunk of your car.”
“I know. It’s a vampire skull.”
“…Is that why there’s glitter in the back, too?”
“Pssh, no. That’s Twilight shit. That’s not actually true.”
“Oh. Then what is it?”
“Well, you know how vampires tend to explode into ash when the sun goes down?”
“…So they explode in glitter and you still got the skull?”
“…Yeah, I guess my story isn’t too plausible now, is it?”
The base, the carved base. It broke, the tunnel collapsed, in the end, and it made terrible noise. Monsters collided at it and based the world in veins of cold. I cried never during this time but all them didn’t listen to my cause of brokenness with endless sheer.
I u-hold
lush my
damps…
Herr Bad
I have junk in my trunk. That sounds bad. Maybe I should say that my trunk has widened over the years. That is better. It sits is able to sit and help balance myself so I can hold the kids, my husbands head on my lap, and groceries bags when we run out of room in the car.
I need to lose some weight. My hind end is getting larger. wider. bigger than it has ever been. maybe I can hide it in a trunk somewhere. maybe not. the kids would knock on it and wonder why I am hiding in a trunk. How would I explain that to them? Hide if you don’t like the way you look?