the barrel bobbed up and down in the blue waves as the occupant inside shrieked like an affronted banshee. it was a wonderful day with a paint blue sky and a glowy sun brimming with excitement with the knowledge that in a few billion years it would explode and take this godforsaken planet down with it.
Mya-Freeman
This is hard to explain but the way your hair waves upon your head reminds me so much of wine sloshing in a barrel. The sweetness of your face makes the hair above your head that much winier and I just cannot let what I know about you go. I didn’t mean to do it that day
Slightly rotting wood and the wide bands of corroded metal just barely holding the structure together. Keeping its contents safe, for secrecy or some sense of security.
I’m over a barrel, barrel full of monkeys. He came barrelling down the hallway, not noticing as he knocked into this one or brushed by that one: so intent was he on stopping what he knew was happening behind that door.
NTE
6 rounds. But there’s only one of him. I got six chances to end it. My finger is sweaty, and I’m not even sure what the safety is on, hell I don’t know even know what it looks like. But he won’t stop. So I have to stop him. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I’m gonna kill someone. I can’t believe….bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.
A barrel of laughs, that guy. He just has this hold on people. Everyone stops and listens when he speaks. And then they laugh. They have to laugh. His every word is funny. They can’t help themselves. And then he quietens. And they all wait for the next round.
Anthromarketer
the was a barrel at the end of the gun just like the barrel ful of beer which the boys and i had drunk last night it was a messy night ending in me taking a woman to bed and finishing her off the bed had lion fur on and a wolves head that had been murdered that night It was a good night
Henry
PIckles, so many pickles. They fill the barrel to the brim and fill the room with burning vinegar aroma. They are so many barrels that I can’t see. I want to go home. I want to leave this place so badly, but I can’t. My entrance is blocked. I can’t breathe. I hate pickles.
It’s a round thing that holds all my dreams, especially when it’s filled with Whiskey. I like Whiskey straight, maybe over ice but not with any other alcohol. Does that make me an alcoholic? I don’t think so. I just enjoy a small drink at the weekends when out with friends. Happy days for the new year!
Gareth
Racing the clock again to meet the deadline, the drop-dead-line. I feel as if I am over the barrel with no way to catch up or slow down. Every step forces the next and I am only just keeping up. If I could only get ahead a little to have some time to plan, to strategize, I would feel better. If I had more control, maybe I could find the exit that would take me back to my life.
A barel is a large wooden container, used in medieval times to carry all sorts of precious hings that could fement easily like food and water to keep them protected, nowadays we just use them for wine and beer to make them fement and the longer you tent to leave the liqour in there the nice it gets and the more expensive it is when you take it out.
Lottie
a barrel is made of wood, in my head i think of a medieval barrel that contains things when going on ships to distant lands like water and food, nowadays we only use them to hold liquor like bee and wine to help it fement. this is what a barrel makes me thing of, also it makes me thing of ‘double barrelled’ which i think refers to a ouble barrel gun with two barrels for two shots, usually found in shot guns, my dad has one of these and he uses it to hunt rabbits and pigeons.
Lottie
Gun barrel is what came to mind first. Then I thought of a whiskey barrel and how much I drank during the holidays. This is a great exercise and I need to practice my typing.
The first linkage I make with a barrel, excuse my french, is booze. In all the movies and social media and whatnot it appears to epitomize the ideal storage basin for beer. I distinctly remember the use of barrels in pirate movies, to provide crew members with gallons of (most likely expired) alcohol. I think owning a barrelful of alcohol would be pretty cool actually. Not only for the vintage appeal, but just for the sake of pretending I am a pirate. Yo-ho.
Mary
Far past these roads
there is a place
where all our precious dreams remain
someday i know
i’ll find a way
to keep myself from holding on
stay awake with the sound of my voice
i’m restless from the silence in the air
i want to be somewhere i can see the roads
a place where everytime you breathe a wish comes true
inside this room
time will stand still as long as
we’re not aware of change
the world outside
leaves me behind by myself
there’s no mercy for those who hold on
stay awake with the sound of my voice
i’m restless from the silence in the air
i want to be somewhere i can see the roads
a place where everytime you breathe a wish comes true
i want to be where love is real
and memories of distant days come to life again
far past these roads
there is a place
where all our precious dreams remain
someday i know
i’ll find a way
to keep myself from holding on
i want to be somewhere i can see the roads
a place where everytime you breathe a wish comes true
i want to be where love is real
and memories of distant days come to life again
Oh not this again I thought. I saw it there, weeping in the corner. I could not look at it any longer. It was tearing me apart. How did I let this happen. It took all of my will but I had to do it. “Barrel, I love you” I said with passionate emotion, I passed out shortly after for I found out that Barrel had in fact, poisoned me.
it is brown and it is shaped like a cylinder. you can find it in donkey kong games. Donkey Kong likes smashing it
Watriq
Now is the time for all good men to own a barrel. As in their own barrel of fun !
Lucky
The sun shone too brightly for her. She could barely concentrate, barely focus. The dust swirled by her feet, making it difficult to breath. Objects lined the road. Barrels, hay, buckets. They could be hiding in any of them. She didn’t know where to turn.
She sat on top of the barrel in front of her mother’s old farm house. She thought of her childhood and everything it brought. She had returned once again in search of all those little things. The dust left on her mind and heart of hot summers in Arkansas and the wavering wind blowing past her hair and ankle cooling her body from the sun.
Khadija Hassan
oh he was a barrel of laughs. everyone loved him. he played the fiddle and told jokes. everyone danced when they came to this plac. he had barrels of apples you could eat as many as you wanted, or feed them to his horse. he was easy going like that.
oh geeze. not a word i was expecting. oh well. i shot a few guns recently. it was fun. i want to be more accurate at shooting. i want an xd45
zach tytus lyles
barrellin’ along this well travelled road at 60
the window is down and the heat washes over
the days run thick through my mind
a heavy mire of snapshots
edges of time tucked away in a word or letter
in a face or a picture
the road keeps going when there’s no destination
the only end is the ocean
and also our beginning
maybe one day the water in us will turn to oil
and we can smile big
for the dollars will be coming fast and steady
although only if oil blood adoption rates are slow and you get lucky enough for first picking
little guinea pigs are fed well I’m told
I don’t know about freedom though
guess harder
The barrel came late and I was angry that I was unable to give my wife the gift that I had brought for her. I had travel far and wide to obtain something that was of value, only to be disappointed in not being able to fulfill my plan to surprise her with the present that I had brought for her.
something you use to fill things in farms
often made of wood and is cylindrical in shape, often round at the top
maQui
Barrelling forth, moving towards me
Large and cumbersome and scary
I can hardly move, just sitting dumb
My heart beats like a pendulum
The imminence of death surrounds me
Propelled by the sound of my screams
I saw the brown barrel sitting by the apple tree and thought how lovely it would be if I were to pick those apples and put them in there, but I decided that would be better and more fun to do that at a later time, with you.
Lyndi
Cracker Barrel rules and I’m sort of saddened that I don’t even type creative sentences anymore. I think it’s clear that I’m getting progressively stupid every day.
Her brain was a barrel of lukewarm sludge. Everything important was buried in and blurred by the muck. She couldn’t find a damn thing, nor did she know how to clean it all out and recover her clarity.
the barrel is facing me. Not too intently that I can not disguise my emotions. What do I do? Return to the oh so familiar place that I have grown to despise and love – simultaneously even? It doesn’t matter. The barrel is at my door.
T dawg
“Where in the actual fuck did you get a barrel?”
He scratched his head, “You know, I honestly have no fucking idea.”
“Well do you remember anything from last night?”
His eyes closed for a moment as if he was trying to recall something. He sighed, “Nope. Nuthin’.”
“Are you kidding? Jesus. Did you lot get roofied or something?”
“Well personally I would just like to point out that I had never had anything to drink before. And then they gave me Yager….so. Yeah.” piped up Adam from the back.
“Right. Also that. What the hell were you guys thinking letting Adam drink? He has a hard enough time dealing with the headaches and now you’ve got him hungover too.”
“He’s a big boy. He can make his own….terrible, terrible decisions.” said Hank cooly from the coach. He had made himself comfortable by laying down and putting a bag of frozen peas on his head. “Now if you all don’t mind, could we please be a little bit quieter.”
A chorus of moans and agreement resounded throughout the room.
“You know I have half a mind to make you all do the work you promised anyway.” huffed Alicia.
Phillip’s arm snatched out and pulled her down onto his lap in the armchair. “Shhhhh. We’ll do the work. Just not right now. Mmkay darlin’?”
That barrel, can’t believe that is still just sitting there in the corner. Waiting. It’s filled with that drink that tempts her so, but she can’t bear to go near and taste some.
Emily
its a circle.
Karen
Left! Right! JUMP!! Over the barrels rolling my way. I am Donkey Kong!
Tommi
Barrel roll!!! One day, Donkey Kong did a barrel roll and landed in Mexico where he met Dora. Dora was lost and Donkey Kong had a short temper, so they partied. YOLO. barrellllllllllllllllllllllzzzzz2!huihiuhrgiuhrguihrgh
Alyssa
wine and many other things come in these things that help college kids get through the majority of their time in post secondary educations. they think that theyare hot shots for drinking things like win that came from a barrel but they really arent and hate the teaste but wont admit it because they are hipsters
nadz
Down through the sink hole of the islands southside beach, a rusted and rotten old barrel stands alone as if forgotten too many years ago…. waiting for a new voyage, across another sea, to wash up on the sand of another expansive beach, ready to tell the tales of another sunset gone.
the barrel bobbed up and down in the blue waves as the occupant inside shrieked like an affronted banshee. it was a wonderful day with a paint blue sky and a glowy sun brimming with excitement with the knowledge that in a few billion years it would explode and take this godforsaken planet down with it.
This is hard to explain but the way your hair waves upon your head reminds me so much of wine sloshing in a barrel. The sweetness of your face makes the hair above your head that much winier and I just cannot let what I know about you go. I didn’t mean to do it that day
Slightly rotting wood and the wide bands of corroded metal just barely holding the structure together. Keeping its contents safe, for secrecy or some sense of security.
Yesterday, your arms loosened around me.
I’m over a barrel, barrel full of monkeys. He came barrelling down the hallway, not noticing as he knocked into this one or brushed by that one: so intent was he on stopping what he knew was happening behind that door.
6 rounds. But there’s only one of him. I got six chances to end it. My finger is sweaty, and I’m not even sure what the safety is on, hell I don’t know even know what it looks like. But he won’t stop. So I have to stop him. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I’m gonna kill someone. I can’t believe….bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.
A barrel of laughs, that guy. He just has this hold on people. Everyone stops and listens when he speaks. And then they laugh. They have to laugh. His every word is funny. They can’t help themselves. And then he quietens. And they all wait for the next round.
the was a barrel at the end of the gun just like the barrel ful of beer which the boys and i had drunk last night it was a messy night ending in me taking a woman to bed and finishing her off the bed had lion fur on and a wolves head that had been murdered that night It was a good night
PIckles, so many pickles. They fill the barrel to the brim and fill the room with burning vinegar aroma. They are so many barrels that I can’t see. I want to go home. I want to leave this place so badly, but I can’t. My entrance is blocked. I can’t breathe. I hate pickles.
It’s a round thing that holds all my dreams, especially when it’s filled with Whiskey. I like Whiskey straight, maybe over ice but not with any other alcohol. Does that make me an alcoholic? I don’t think so. I just enjoy a small drink at the weekends when out with friends. Happy days for the new year!
Racing the clock again to meet the deadline, the drop-dead-line. I feel as if I am over the barrel with no way to catch up or slow down. Every step forces the next and I am only just keeping up. If I could only get ahead a little to have some time to plan, to strategize, I would feel better. If I had more control, maybe I could find the exit that would take me back to my life.
A barel is a large wooden container, used in medieval times to carry all sorts of precious hings that could fement easily like food and water to keep them protected, nowadays we just use them for wine and beer to make them fement and the longer you tent to leave the liqour in there the nice it gets and the more expensive it is when you take it out.
a barrel is made of wood, in my head i think of a medieval barrel that contains things when going on ships to distant lands like water and food, nowadays we only use them to hold liquor like bee and wine to help it fement. this is what a barrel makes me thing of, also it makes me thing of ‘double barrelled’ which i think refers to a ouble barrel gun with two barrels for two shots, usually found in shot guns, my dad has one of these and he uses it to hunt rabbits and pigeons.
Gun barrel is what came to mind first. Then I thought of a whiskey barrel and how much I drank during the holidays. This is a great exercise and I need to practice my typing.
This is the fourth time. I am so done.
The first linkage I make with a barrel, excuse my french, is booze. In all the movies and social media and whatnot it appears to epitomize the ideal storage basin for beer. I distinctly remember the use of barrels in pirate movies, to provide crew members with gallons of (most likely expired) alcohol. I think owning a barrelful of alcohol would be pretty cool actually. Not only for the vintage appeal, but just for the sake of pretending I am a pirate. Yo-ho.
Far past these roads
there is a place
where all our precious dreams remain
someday i know
i’ll find a way
to keep myself from holding on
stay awake with the sound of my voice
i’m restless from the silence in the air
i want to be somewhere i can see the roads
a place where everytime you breathe a wish comes true
inside this room
time will stand still as long as
we’re not aware of change
the world outside
leaves me behind by myself
there’s no mercy for those who hold on
stay awake with the sound of my voice
i’m restless from the silence in the air
i want to be somewhere i can see the roads
a place where everytime you breathe a wish comes true
i want to be where love is real
and memories of distant days come to life again
far past these roads
there is a place
where all our precious dreams remain
someday i know
i’ll find a way
to keep myself from holding on
i want to be somewhere i can see the roads
a place where everytime you breathe a wish comes true
i want to be where love is real
and memories of distant days come to life again
The barrel bobbed along with the rhythm of the waves. It was too far out to swim to it yet and the boy watched it hungrily, willing it to shore.
Oh not this again I thought. I saw it there, weeping in the corner. I could not look at it any longer. It was tearing me apart. How did I let this happen. It took all of my will but I had to do it. “Barrel, I love you” I said with passionate emotion, I passed out shortly after for I found out that Barrel had in fact, poisoned me.
it is brown and it is shaped like a cylinder. you can find it in donkey kong games. Donkey Kong likes smashing it
Now is the time for all good men to own a barrel. As in their own barrel of fun !
The sun shone too brightly for her. She could barely concentrate, barely focus. The dust swirled by her feet, making it difficult to breath. Objects lined the road. Barrels, hay, buckets. They could be hiding in any of them. She didn’t know where to turn.
She sat on top of the barrel in front of her mother’s old farm house. She thought of her childhood and everything it brought. She had returned once again in search of all those little things. The dust left on her mind and heart of hot summers in Arkansas and the wavering wind blowing past her hair and ankle cooling her body from the sun.
oh he was a barrel of laughs. everyone loved him. he played the fiddle and told jokes. everyone danced when they came to this plac. he had barrels of apples you could eat as many as you wanted, or feed them to his horse. he was easy going like that.
oh geeze. not a word i was expecting. oh well. i shot a few guns recently. it was fun. i want to be more accurate at shooting. i want an xd45
barrellin’ along this well travelled road at 60
the window is down and the heat washes over
the days run thick through my mind
a heavy mire of snapshots
edges of time tucked away in a word or letter
in a face or a picture
the road keeps going when there’s no destination
the only end is the ocean
and also our beginning
maybe one day the water in us will turn to oil
and we can smile big
for the dollars will be coming fast and steady
although only if oil blood adoption rates are slow and you get lucky enough for first picking
little guinea pigs are fed well I’m told
I don’t know about freedom though
The barrel came late and I was angry that I was unable to give my wife the gift that I had brought for her. I had travel far and wide to obtain something that was of value, only to be disappointed in not being able to fulfill my plan to surprise her with the present that I had brought for her.
something you use to fill things in farms
often made of wood and is cylindrical in shape, often round at the top
Barrelling forth, moving towards me
Large and cumbersome and scary
I can hardly move, just sitting dumb
My heart beats like a pendulum
The imminence of death surrounds me
Propelled by the sound of my screams
Type “do the barrel roll” in Google :D
When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade with them and drink it.
I saw the brown barrel sitting by the apple tree and thought how lovely it would be if I were to pick those apples and put them in there, but I decided that would be better and more fun to do that at a later time, with you.
Cracker Barrel rules and I’m sort of saddened that I don’t even type creative sentences anymore. I think it’s clear that I’m getting progressively stupid every day.
Her brain was a barrel of lukewarm sludge. Everything important was buried in and blurred by the muck. She couldn’t find a damn thing, nor did she know how to clean it all out and recover her clarity.
the barrel is facing me. Not too intently that I can not disguise my emotions. What do I do? Return to the oh so familiar place that I have grown to despise and love – simultaneously even? It doesn’t matter. The barrel is at my door.
“Where in the actual fuck did you get a barrel?”
He scratched his head, “You know, I honestly have no fucking idea.”
“Well do you remember anything from last night?”
His eyes closed for a moment as if he was trying to recall something. He sighed, “Nope. Nuthin’.”
“Are you kidding? Jesus. Did you lot get roofied or something?”
“Well personally I would just like to point out that I had never had anything to drink before. And then they gave me Yager….so. Yeah.” piped up Adam from the back.
“Right. Also that. What the hell were you guys thinking letting Adam drink? He has a hard enough time dealing with the headaches and now you’ve got him hungover too.”
“He’s a big boy. He can make his own….terrible, terrible decisions.” said Hank cooly from the coach. He had made himself comfortable by laying down and putting a bag of frozen peas on his head. “Now if you all don’t mind, could we please be a little bit quieter.”
A chorus of moans and agreement resounded throughout the room.
“You know I have half a mind to make you all do the work you promised anyway.” huffed Alicia.
Phillip’s arm snatched out and pulled her down onto his lap in the armchair. “Shhhhh. We’ll do the work. Just not right now. Mmkay darlin’?”
That barrel, can’t believe that is still just sitting there in the corner. Waiting. It’s filled with that drink that tempts her so, but she can’t bear to go near and taste some.
its a circle.
Left! Right! JUMP!! Over the barrels rolling my way. I am Donkey Kong!
Barrel roll!!! One day, Donkey Kong did a barrel roll and landed in Mexico where he met Dora. Dora was lost and Donkey Kong had a short temper, so they partied. YOLO. barrellllllllllllllllllllllzzzzz2!huihiuhrgiuhrguihrgh
wine and many other things come in these things that help college kids get through the majority of their time in post secondary educations. they think that theyare hot shots for drinking things like win that came from a barrel but they really arent and hate the teaste but wont admit it because they are hipsters
Down through the sink hole of the islands southside beach, a rusted and rotten old barrel stands alone as if forgotten too many years ago…. waiting for a new voyage, across another sea, to wash up on the sand of another expansive beach, ready to tell the tales of another sunset gone.