Wings.. So soft, so warm and comforting.. “Erik?” “I’m here.. You’re safe now.. Don’t worry.” She snuggled deeper into the wings, knowing her guardian would protect her, and that she would always be safe with him. “Thank you.”
Suddenly, Joseph was borne on wings through every moment he had ever lived, drinking in the precious flickers of joys, of griefs, of all the flavours that made up his life amongst the community of friends, who were now departed
I used to think that if I was a really good girl God would give me my wings early so I could fly around and do cool stuff. As I got older I guess I forgot about that, I lost some faith and the hope for wings went with it…
They flap and cease, flap and cease. I see them in the mangle of wood, leaves, and sun. They are above me waiting patiently for the summer days to cool off, for some unsuspecting stranger to come along and help; to free them from their confines. But, it is not my task; I never had wings in solitude, only with her.
To hell with them. They impose their own limits on their own souls, but expect the rest of us to abide. Standards, by their nature, will be broken. And I will do it.
I hate the winged things. Birds? fine Planes? better but the small buzzy things that have wings give me chills. I wish they could just dissapear. It’d be better if they didn’t have wings because then they couldn’t fly at me.
there were wax wings made of bits of string and feathers and things and she wore them only as a reminder that there would never be a day where she could thrust her face into the warm sunlight and feel it melt down her spine and soak into her skin and she would never weave in and out of big round clouds and she would never feel her toes leaving the soil, soft and always there.
They were married, but they were still young. Dinner was not always cooked at home, in fact, more often than not it was brought home in a grease stained paper bag. There was nothing wrong with that. He had his favorite places, and she had hers. One place they both agreed was one of their favorites, was a simple Chicken Joint. They were very devoted costumers of Wing-N-Things. When they moved out of Southern California, that restaurant topped the list of things the missed.
I want to fly away from it all sometimes and just watch life from above. See what I’m doing below, observe and analyse, then decide if that’s the path I want to take. I want to see it all laid out before me, even the consequences of my actions before I perform them.
For that, I need a pair of wings.
The wings of the airplane were pristine and solid, yet I still felt that aching feeling at the pit of my stomach. Something horrible was going to happen. I would never reach him to say goodbye. He would forever thing I didn’t love him and that killed me inside. The only thing I hoped was that he understood. I never meant to hurt him, but this plane would never land.
Fluttering. I’ve lost them, I’ve lost them….where did they go?
…Hello? I’m falling.
There is cold air gropping about in my ears. I think it should stop. It’s invasive. I feel violated. And – Damn it. Where the HELL are my wings?
You really expect your parents to be the ‘wind beneath your wings’ and all that. To help you fly from the nest when you’re old enough to do so. Mine haven’t really done that for me, ever. I’ve sort of glued my wings together, while I’ve been falsely unprepared with candle wax too close to the sun.
I have wings. It’s better than you could ever imagine. Then again maybe a that’s why it’s every human’s dream to be able to fly. You feel so free, as if the whole world belongs to you, as if you’re on top of the world. I love the feeling of the wind surging through my feathers, the rush of being so high up and knowing you won’t fall, no matter the fact I’m part human. I love the feel of releasing my wings after having them folded up under my clothes. Stretching them and giving them a few flutters, just to let them feel it.
They become voices in my head, voices without a cause. I hear bells from faraway temples and in me a wave ripples. I see a cloud, and find myself standing on tip toes. Dreams are mine, as the sky is mine, the wings are ready.
I’ve lived in a cage all my life. All of it. I am expected to live in that cage for all my life. All of it.
But you’ll see. One day, I’ll grow a pair of wings. I’ll grow a pair of wings so large and so strong, they’ll break the cage open. You’ll see.
wings to fly and to soar. they lift you off the ground and show you who you are. wings are what you make them, they are yours to change. be who you want, and choose to shine.
If I had wings I would give them to you. I would give them to you like I have given you my heart, and together we could fly. We could see the universe together, you and I. We could be magical. And we could share in our love just as you share in my wings.
Flight is a beautiful gift. To fly would mean everything to us. I hope someday you’ll fly with me.
Where will we go together? The places, I could not see them before you. But now I am above it all, looking down upon the villages with their thick, clay roofing, a splintering red in the sun. Before I could not see these blood red idols, but now, I get lost in them. You took me there.
Tonight, I spread my wings and fly off into the world (as cliché as it is to say so.) By declaring that I will pursue (or at least try to pursue) a singing career, I am ‘spreading my wings.’ So, wish me luck as I chase my dreams because, in this dog eat dog world, I am sure as hell going to need it.
I wonder sometimes what it would be like to fly. But I’d probably be too afraid to fall. I’d land on somebody’s head and the whole thing would just devolve into an argument about why they should have been paying attention and why I had no business being in the air. I’d rather use wings than a jetpack, I guess – both are cumbersome, but only one involves fire. Although wings are probably flammable.
A month ago, I grew wings. I’ve thought about having them tattooed on my back, but I’m glad I waited. Now I have my own, and I fly over the world every day.
i have been in the presence of certain people that i wanted take under my wing.. Help them. lead them in the right path. put on the right journey. I am a falcon.
People tell me that they wish they could fly. That they wish they had wings. Like a butterfly, or an angel, or a faerie. They could go wherever they wanted whenever they wanted, see whomever they want, for any reason they want. I don’t normally tell them, but I used to fly. Higher than a kite, faster than lightning, and farther than the moon. My wings were a wonderful gift, but have since been clipped; now they are short and weak. And though it seems like forever since I’ve last flown, I’m sure I still can. It just seems easier to tell people that, for my own reasons, I don’t fly anymore.
her wings give her dreams.
the dreams give us wings.
the wings inspire us to grow.
growth stimulates the brain.
the brain is stimulated by growth.
wings make us grow.
<3
is that the last time i’m going to see your house?
being kicked out on wasp wings
i want more than anything to resolve everything
and you could quit being so selfish
and quit taking my selflessness on rides
that make olympus look low hanging
this morning began another mourning.
i want to quit counting
your lore
I keep my head down, as I always do. I don’t feel deserving to be looked in the eye. I feel everyone will see right through me; see the real me. If I keep a smile on my face, they will believe me, so I think. But even when there is no smile present, it’s not like anyone will notice. How can one be happy when they don’t know what happiness is? How can one make themselves happy when they don’t know what it takes to make that happen? When loneliness surrounds me, it is easier to just spread my wings and fly away.
Wings… I wish I had them so I could fly away. Just soar out of this wretched place, and then metaphorically and yet physically into your arms.
Would you love me then, if I had wings and could take you anywhere?
Or do you still think anywhere and everywhere is better with him rather than me..?
i wish i had wings, because since i was young all ive wanted to do is fly far from where i am, i suppose i get the runaway gene from my father, not a scapegoat just a notice. Take me to the Paris of the south, get me out of new england.
with a crack
and a rustle
came pain, oh pain
as it pushed its way through
a buzzing underneath skin
fighting to emerge
then out sprouted
wings!
glorious white downy feathers
spreading out from between her shoulder blades
and felt the heat radiate
and it lifted her
up
up
and away
a release of strength
spreading
spreading
out
up and above
the expectations
fly away
from all that holds you down
if you want to fly
you need only spread your wings
and do it
I held the small bird, cupped in my hands, it’s wings fluttering feebly. i gave an odd pathetic cough and i couldn’t believe that this bird was actually the key to saving the world.
With wings of an eagle
She climbs to new heights.
Far above the tree line, but
There I sit.
Fall comes, and my colors fade.
I just watch from a distance.
Wings.. So soft, so warm and comforting.. “Erik?” “I’m here.. You’re safe now.. Don’t worry.” She snuggled deeper into the wings, knowing her guardian would protect her, and that she would always be safe with him. “Thank you.”
Suddenly, Joseph was borne on wings through every moment he had ever lived, drinking in the precious flickers of joys, of griefs, of all the flavours that made up his life amongst the community of friends, who were now departed
I used to think that if I was a really good girl God would give me my wings early so I could fly around and do cool stuff. As I got older I guess I forgot about that, I lost some faith and the hope for wings went with it…
um, what kind? buffalo? mild? extra hot? and, from where? zaxby’s? pizza hut? wing stop? i just know that i want some wings. real bad. on the realz.
They flap and cease, flap and cease. I see them in the mangle of wood, leaves, and sun. They are above me waiting patiently for the summer days to cool off, for some unsuspecting stranger to come along and help; to free them from their confines. But, it is not my task; I never had wings in solitude, only with her.
“Don’t go too far, you might get burned.”
To hell with them. They impose their own limits on their own souls, but expect the rest of us to abide. Standards, by their nature, will be broken. And I will do it.
To hell with them all. I’ll touch the sun.
Or my name isn’t Icarus.
I hate the winged things. Birds? fine Planes? better but the small buzzy things that have wings give me chills. I wish they could just dissapear. It’d be better if they didn’t have wings because then they couldn’t fly at me.
there were wax wings made of bits of string and feathers and things and she wore them only as a reminder that there would never be a day where she could thrust her face into the warm sunlight and feel it melt down her spine and soak into her skin and she would never weave in and out of big round clouds and she would never feel her toes leaving the soil, soft and always there.
They were married, but they were still young. Dinner was not always cooked at home, in fact, more often than not it was brought home in a grease stained paper bag. There was nothing wrong with that. He had his favorite places, and she had hers. One place they both agreed was one of their favorites, was a simple Chicken Joint. They were very devoted costumers of Wing-N-Things. When they moved out of Southern California, that restaurant topped the list of things the missed.
I want to fly away from it all sometimes and just watch life from above. See what I’m doing below, observe and analyse, then decide if that’s the path I want to take. I want to see it all laid out before me, even the consequences of my actions before I perform them.
For that, I need a pair of wings.
The wings of the airplane were pristine and solid, yet I still felt that aching feeling at the pit of my stomach. Something horrible was going to happen. I would never reach him to say goodbye. He would forever thing I didn’t love him and that killed me inside. The only thing I hoped was that he understood. I never meant to hurt him, but this plane would never land.
Fluttering. I’ve lost them, I’ve lost them….where did they go?
…Hello? I’m falling.
There is cold air gropping about in my ears. I think it should stop. It’s invasive. I feel violated. And – Damn it. Where the HELL are my wings?
You really expect your parents to be the ‘wind beneath your wings’ and all that. To help you fly from the nest when you’re old enough to do so. Mine haven’t really done that for me, ever. I’ve sort of glued my wings together, while I’ve been falsely unprepared with candle wax too close to the sun.
I have wings. It’s better than you could ever imagine. Then again maybe a that’s why it’s every human’s dream to be able to fly. You feel so free, as if the whole world belongs to you, as if you’re on top of the world. I love the feeling of the wind surging through my feathers, the rush of being so high up and knowing you won’t fall, no matter the fact I’m part human. I love the feel of releasing my wings after having them folded up under my clothes. Stretching them and giving them a few flutters, just to let them feel it.
They become voices in my head, voices without a cause. I hear bells from faraway temples and in me a wave ripples. I see a cloud, and find myself standing on tip toes. Dreams are mine, as the sky is mine, the wings are ready.
I’ve lived in a cage all my life. All of it. I am expected to live in that cage for all my life. All of it.
But you’ll see. One day, I’ll grow a pair of wings. I’ll grow a pair of wings so large and so strong, they’ll break the cage open. You’ll see.
you are golden
wings to fly and to soar. they lift you off the ground and show you who you are. wings are what you make them, they are yours to change. be who you want, and choose to shine.
If I had wings I would give them to you. I would give them to you like I have given you my heart, and together we could fly. We could see the universe together, you and I. We could be magical. And we could share in our love just as you share in my wings.
Flight is a beautiful gift. To fly would mean everything to us. I hope someday you’ll fly with me.
You have the wings of an eagle, and the heart of a fish.
I don’t know what else. You just piss me off right now.
Everyone thinks you’re perfect, but truth is you’re just another judgmental person with a pretty face.
Where will we go together? The places, I could not see them before you. But now I am above it all, looking down upon the villages with their thick, clay roofing, a splintering red in the sun. Before I could not see these blood red idols, but now, I get lost in them. You took me there.
Tonight, I spread my wings and fly off into the world (as cliché as it is to say so.) By declaring that I will pursue (or at least try to pursue) a singing career, I am ‘spreading my wings.’ So, wish me luck as I chase my dreams because, in this dog eat dog world, I am sure as hell going to need it.
I wonder sometimes what it would be like to fly. But I’d probably be too afraid to fall. I’d land on somebody’s head and the whole thing would just devolve into an argument about why they should have been paying attention and why I had no business being in the air. I’d rather use wings than a jetpack, I guess – both are cumbersome, but only one involves fire. Although wings are probably flammable.
A month ago, I grew wings. I’ve thought about having them tattooed on my back, but I’m glad I waited. Now I have my own, and I fly over the world every day.
i have been in the presence of certain people that i wanted take under my wing.. Help them. lead them in the right path. put on the right journey. I am a falcon.
People tell me that they wish they could fly. That they wish they had wings. Like a butterfly, or an angel, or a faerie. They could go wherever they wanted whenever they wanted, see whomever they want, for any reason they want. I don’t normally tell them, but I used to fly. Higher than a kite, faster than lightning, and farther than the moon. My wings were a wonderful gift, but have since been clipped; now they are short and weak. And though it seems like forever since I’ve last flown, I’m sure I still can. It just seems easier to tell people that, for my own reasons, I don’t fly anymore.
her wings give her dreams.
the dreams give us wings.
the wings inspire us to grow.
growth stimulates the brain.
the brain is stimulated by growth.
wings make us grow.
<3
…
In March on 2009, a special eight-year-old learned to fly. Earning her wings, soaring so high. Going up to her Father in heaven.
is that the last time i’m going to see your house?
being kicked out on wasp wings
i want more than anything to resolve everything
and you could quit being so selfish
and quit taking my selflessness on rides
that make olympus look low hanging
this morning began another mourning.
i want to quit counting
your lore
I keep my head down, as I always do. I don’t feel deserving to be looked in the eye. I feel everyone will see right through me; see the real me. If I keep a smile on my face, they will believe me, so I think. But even when there is no smile present, it’s not like anyone will notice. How can one be happy when they don’t know what happiness is? How can one make themselves happy when they don’t know what it takes to make that happen? When loneliness surrounds me, it is easier to just spread my wings and fly away.
Redbull gives you wings.
Wings… I wish I had them so I could fly away. Just soar out of this wretched place, and then metaphorically and yet physically into your arms.
Would you love me then, if I had wings and could take you anywhere?
Or do you still think anywhere and everywhere is better with him rather than me..?
i wish i had wings, because since i was young all ive wanted to do is fly far from where i am, i suppose i get the runaway gene from my father, not a scapegoat just a notice. Take me to the Paris of the south, get me out of new england.
with a crack
and a rustle
came pain, oh pain
as it pushed its way through
a buzzing underneath skin
fighting to emerge
then out sprouted
wings!
glorious white downy feathers
spreading out from between her shoulder blades
and felt the heat radiate
and it lifted her
up
up
and away
a release of strength
spreading
spreading
out
up and above
the expectations
fly away
from all that holds you down
if you want to fly
you need only spread your wings
and do it
I held the small bird, cupped in my hands, it’s wings fluttering feebly. i gave an odd pathetic cough and i couldn’t believe that this bird was actually the key to saving the world.
birds, fairies, ghosts, dragon flies, flies. They all fly with wings.
W. I. N. G. S. name of the race of people in my story. They are shapeshifters. Came to me in a dream….. love it. what a wonderful word.
With wings of an eagle
She climbs to new heights.
Far above the tree line, but
There I sit.
Fall comes, and my colors fade.
I just watch from a distance.