He sat below me, on the floor of my bedroom. Staring at the wall with an intent anger. He wasn’t talking to me, this was the silent treatment. It was childish and annoying, but this was his way of getting his point across. I wasn’t sure how he thought this was effective, or if he knew it wasn’t but decided to do it anyway. I had now at my book next to me after folding the corner of my page. “Talk to me,” I begged. He shook his head. He was upset that I told him how upset his family made me. He was furious actually. Finally, he turned and his deep brown eyes glared at me. “Stop acting like this,” I snapped back at him. Standing up he shook his head again. This man was blind to everything his family had done to him. He was blind to how much they truly used him. So here he was below me on the floor, but now I realized I was below his family.
Allie-Shea
Nobody really knows what’s down below. Some say it’s a fiery pit of hot burning lava governed by a two horned creature that’s uglier than your neighbor’s squealing baby. Some say it’s nothing but earth, worms, and worms eating dead bodies. I would probably never know what’s down below until someone buries me alive and I (if fortunate enough) live to tell the tale.
Reese
i sat below the trees thinking, with ice in my milk. about how the sky matters, how the birds are silent now. about how everything stills in the morning.
Down below the earth lies a dragon. everyone in all the lands is in fear of this dragon but only because they havnt met him. This dragon is the sweetest of all the dragons. It enjoys gardening and playing and art. Nobody understands this dragon because he is different from the other dragons. Unlike the mean tuff ones that only cause destruction he desires to be loved by all people and help clean up the destruction. One day the dragon went up to the surface and met a king. He said “dont be afraid i am a kind dragon”. But before he could finish his sentence the king sent soldiers to kill the kind dragon. He flew away sad that he wasnt excepted. Eventually he wound up in a village where he went up to a farmer. “Hello, do you need any help” the man ran away yelling for help. The dragon went away walking through the forrest nearby sad and depressed that his dream of being loved by the people would not come true. As he walked he heard some laughter. He looked around for people but saw none. All of the sudden saw a little girl. “Hello” said the little girl.”Hi” said the dragon depressingly. “Why are you way out here?” “Because im a lonely dragon. You are the first to not run away from me today” replied the dragon. “i dont see why one would run away you seem perfectly kind.”
Tim
below me is something else
i can’t quite understand what it is
but its a need, for a better place and time
a better person to share my secrets with
somewhere is a place where i will be at home
no regrets, nothing
i am made of glass
be careful, don’t tip me over or i might crack.
Below the dark cloud is a shadow of a girl. She was once “happy” and positive. What I’ll now recognize as ignorance. How could anyone be smiling? Why do other people seem so happy while I am a ghost? Either they’re completely oblivious or I’m the odd one.
A world below. It was hard to imagine such a thing. It was as such by a girl named Isabelle.
Until one summer afternoon as she was cycling, a crack formed on the surface of the earth.
She fell though, down underneath the crust, and it closed back upon itself.
She had joined the others in the world below.
Sara de Souza
What I see below the clouds — it was supposed to snow today, but we seem to be in the banana belt of Oregon. So, to live below the clouds in oregon is to live in rain if it is winter, or spring, or summer or fall. the tempature is what changes with the season below the clouds.
Below the deck I heard the mewing of babies. I wasn’t sure what kind, but I hadn’t seen my Callie all day and felt sure I knew where she would be. I looked below the porch and found her with five new kittens.
under the table is a bed of fire ants with a thousand of them in it. the ants can hurt you bad if you are not careful but if you take safety cautions then you will be fine. the ants are running around looking like and bunch of pine needles blowing in the wind. the ants are take little crumbs into there ant hill and giving them to there queen.
Katrina Miller
Below the depths of my shallow mind, I know my beautiful words there lies.
“Look out below!” and then Oprah dropped a watermelon. Why did she throw a fruit onto that poor hobo’s head? Why did she find joy in that? Maybe it was due to a severe hatred of hobos. Or watermelons. Or both. Oh goodness this was random, sorry haha.
It was below freezing outside. It was bad enough that she had been in the middle of a manic episode and hadn’t slept in going on 36 hours. She was finally starting to come down and now she had to brave the cold to deal with someone else’s emotional problems. She was really in no fit state to interact with anyone after 36 hours of coffee, letters, poems, journals, more coffee, more journals, more poems, more letters, and more coffee. She was like the walking dead.
“But Sebastian, nothing is fun under the sea.” Arial complained to the crustacian.
“Ariel, why would you be above the watuh when you could be below? You have everything here.” The crab explained.
Ariel didn’t understand Sebastian’s point of view so she ventured the deep blue with her best friend, Flounder, wondering if she could ever live among the humans.
He rose up from below the stairs and asked, “What do you do with all these items down here?” as he brought up an old owl cage and some broken round glasses. “These are some of the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen, yet I can’t help but feel mystified”.
below him is one of the best places to be. as he stands there, a dominating, controlling, captivating figure. sweating, in constant motion. we follow his every move. the best of us, his every breathe. we become one with him, sharing thoughts and emotions, riding the waves of this unified sea of creation. the tips of his fingers command time and space and lead us into infinite directions, urging the onlookers to come with us.
we succumb to the sound, inhale it, and find that we have transcended to a place beyond our mortality, beyond this existence. somewhere bigger than ourselves, someplace amazing. and we’ve traveled there together. that’s the extraordinary part.
There once was a man who lived below my stairs. He was a kind young gentleman with blue eyes and brown curly hair. Oh boy did he have the dimples to die for. I wished everyday he would come upstairs, just walk up 14 steps, and maybe just maybe come see me. So one day I dropped a letter off my stairs and hoped he would find it.
expressed123
Below me is a bed, but farther down the basement, full of what I assume could be monsters, or storage, or possibly a cat. But bellow all of that could be anything, and old life, and old place, and old body, an old grave? It could be anything at all, who are we to decide what it is, and what it shall be.
meow
My brain is a mushy string
that connects my hands, legs
and feet.
I walk when my strings are pulled tight
like a rope between buildings,
a man walking on a line
on a rope,
that tight of a string
being pulled.
And sometimes the string seems to
fray in places,
in certain places.
Sometimes the string
can twist and knot,
leaving me in a disarray.
Legs refusing to move,
eyes refusing to comprehend,
brain refusing to process.
Motivation deteriorating,
string breaking.
Above me was fog and mist that rose so high that i couldnt make out the sky behind it. Rocks pressed into my sides; moss squelched underneath my feet. And all around me: crashing, tumbling, dancing water. The waterfall dropped down what appeared to be miles below me; looking down caused a wave of vertigo to sweep over me. I closed my eyes and said the thousandth prayer that i wouldn’t fall. Then I continued taking miniscule steps along the ridge consealed by the raging foam, my vision skewed by the shimmering, watery sun up ahead, and the ghosts of rainbows falling across my feet and the pathway in front of me.
Below the tree lied a book filled with all the wonders of the universe. She loved the book more than life itself; it took her to where she needed to be, who she wanted to see, and what she would have never known otherwise.
Below the ice there lives a magical world, full of white little seahorses no larger than your thumb, and tiny fish that you can see straight through. Light blue starfish that glimmer and octopi smaller than the head of a pin that give off streams of sparkles when they feel threatened.
Katie
helphelphelphelp
i can feel myself
slipping below
into that darkness.
no one hears me.
the type of person that you did not know you were.
outside of a safeway like it ought to be a safehouse, hands held out, every now and again, to the people who were not adept enough to avoid you; but not so poor you cannot afford earphones, playing songs that bury you, sadness like it something private, and certainly addictive–
the type of person your mother never guessed her son to become.
I sat below the table, cowering like a small child. What else was I supposed to do? They were yelling and throwing both objects and punches. It was the only place I was safe. I covered my ears and screwed my eyes shut as tight as I could. It didn’t help. I held my breath until my lungs burned and my chest felt like it was going to explode. Then it all went black.
Jessica
The silence encased me, and I forgot how lovely it was to be alone. My thoughts surrounded me, and a voice beckoned from the depths of my mind. I was below no one, no matter how much it seemed to sway that way. I am myself, a being separate from any influence other than my own. The idea thrilled me.
below the ground swells. i try to understand what sleeps there, but it is an immortal mystery.
Megan
I’m looking above and I’m looking below. Below the world that I think I live in. Towards more dangerous cliffs and wandering paths. I look down and I realize I am much higher up than I should be. As below awaits, I drift.
Summer
look out below. the waves are crashing hard against the platform we are standing on and i can’t tell how much longer that will be able to stand. we should probably just run away now. grab my hand and follow me no matter where i go. i’ll show you places you didn’t even know exist if you only give me the chance.
what is this. Just typing away her, don’t mind me. just typin. thats a lovely purple bar you have down there. stumbleupon sent me to this. i dont know what it is.
marcia
There are Things below her bed. They’ve been accumulating there, for years and years and years, and she just never bothers to go underneath and discover them, afraid of what unpleasant memory from yonder ages she might unearth.
She does go below her bed eventually, traveling down, past the comforter, the sheets, the mattress, the bed frame, until she finds her collection of Things. She looks at them for a while, never touching. Simply gazing. And then she’s angry, going through the Things one by one, each evoking something she never thought would ever hurt until now, post-Him, post-Family, and she sees these Things and she chucks them at the wall, imagining his soft face and betraying back as he walks out the door and leaves her behind. With each throw, she hears the door click shut. With every infuriated hurl, she feels her heart breaking a little bit more. Later, she will realize that this mass purging of the below heals as much as it hurts, and she will smile (wince?) as she drops her childhood into the garbage bin at the curb and watches the billowing truck take the tender reminders of her father far, far away.
Liz
she put herself below me
no matter how hard i tried
to bring up next to me
what i was
who i am
what i did
was always too much for her
constantly comparing herself
feeling smaller and smaller
so she fell farther and farther
below me
until the only way i could help her
was to leave
Underneath everything lied a broken hearted girl. She put on a smile to cover up the scars and blue blacks, just to survive another day. She once was a strong girl but she couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m fine, don’t worry” was her answer to all questions. Family problems and relationship problems; they crunched up into a big and heavy metal ball that constantly weighs her down. She was like the captain of her ship and used to control the steering well but now it’s going below the surface, onto an icy deserted island. “Goodbye world,” she smiled. All alone with blood on her left wrist, finally, and peacefully, the metal ball disappeared and then she rose with the angels.
alyssa rae
Below this fathomable facade lies a girl in wait for her prince. He needs not be charming. He needs not be a prince. Just a decent man with passion in his heart; hardworking in everything he does.
i can’t see what’s below me unless i peak under my chair.
i can’t see what’s below me unless i raise the courage.
i can’t see what’s below me if i can’t leave the comfort zone.
it’s time to be brave.
He sat below me, on the floor of my bedroom. Staring at the wall with an intent anger. He wasn’t talking to me, this was the silent treatment. It was childish and annoying, but this was his way of getting his point across. I wasn’t sure how he thought this was effective, or if he knew it wasn’t but decided to do it anyway. I had now at my book next to me after folding the corner of my page. “Talk to me,” I begged. He shook his head. He was upset that I told him how upset his family made me. He was furious actually. Finally, he turned and his deep brown eyes glared at me. “Stop acting like this,” I snapped back at him. Standing up he shook his head again. This man was blind to everything his family had done to him. He was blind to how much they truly used him. So here he was below me on the floor, but now I realized I was below his family.
Nobody really knows what’s down below. Some say it’s a fiery pit of hot burning lava governed by a two horned creature that’s uglier than your neighbor’s squealing baby. Some say it’s nothing but earth, worms, and worms eating dead bodies. I would probably never know what’s down below until someone buries me alive and I (if fortunate enough) live to tell the tale.
i sat below the trees thinking, with ice in my milk. about how the sky matters, how the birds are silent now. about how everything stills in the morning.
Down below the earth lies a dragon. everyone in all the lands is in fear of this dragon but only because they havnt met him. This dragon is the sweetest of all the dragons. It enjoys gardening and playing and art. Nobody understands this dragon because he is different from the other dragons. Unlike the mean tuff ones that only cause destruction he desires to be loved by all people and help clean up the destruction. One day the dragon went up to the surface and met a king. He said “dont be afraid i am a kind dragon”. But before he could finish his sentence the king sent soldiers to kill the kind dragon. He flew away sad that he wasnt excepted. Eventually he wound up in a village where he went up to a farmer. “Hello, do you need any help” the man ran away yelling for help. The dragon went away walking through the forrest nearby sad and depressed that his dream of being loved by the people would not come true. As he walked he heard some laughter. He looked around for people but saw none. All of the sudden saw a little girl. “Hello” said the little girl.”Hi” said the dragon depressingly. “Why are you way out here?” “Because im a lonely dragon. You are the first to not run away from me today” replied the dragon. “i dont see why one would run away you seem perfectly kind.”
below me is something else
i can’t quite understand what it is
but its a need, for a better place and time
a better person to share my secrets with
somewhere is a place where i will be at home
no regrets, nothing
i am made of glass
be careful, don’t tip me over or i might crack.
Below the dark cloud is a shadow of a girl. She was once “happy” and positive. What I’ll now recognize as ignorance. How could anyone be smiling? Why do other people seem so happy while I am a ghost? Either they’re completely oblivious or I’m the odd one.
A world below. It was hard to imagine such a thing. It was as such by a girl named Isabelle.
Until one summer afternoon as she was cycling, a crack formed on the surface of the earth.
She fell though, down underneath the crust, and it closed back upon itself.
She had joined the others in the world below.
What I see below the clouds — it was supposed to snow today, but we seem to be in the banana belt of Oregon. So, to live below the clouds in oregon is to live in rain if it is winter, or spring, or summer or fall. the tempature is what changes with the season below the clouds.
Below the deck I heard the mewing of babies. I wasn’t sure what kind, but I hadn’t seen my Callie all day and felt sure I knew where she would be. I looked below the porch and found her with five new kittens.
under the table is a bed of fire ants with a thousand of them in it. the ants can hurt you bad if you are not careful but if you take safety cautions then you will be fine. the ants are running around looking like and bunch of pine needles blowing in the wind. the ants are take little crumbs into there ant hill and giving them to there queen.
Below the depths of my shallow mind, I know my beautiful words there lies.
“Look out below!” and then Oprah dropped a watermelon. Why did she throw a fruit onto that poor hobo’s head? Why did she find joy in that? Maybe it was due to a severe hatred of hobos. Or watermelons. Or both. Oh goodness this was random, sorry haha.
It was below freezing outside. It was bad enough that she had been in the middle of a manic episode and hadn’t slept in going on 36 hours. She was finally starting to come down and now she had to brave the cold to deal with someone else’s emotional problems. She was really in no fit state to interact with anyone after 36 hours of coffee, letters, poems, journals, more coffee, more journals, more poems, more letters, and more coffee. She was like the walking dead.
“But Sebastian, nothing is fun under the sea.” Arial complained to the crustacian.
“Ariel, why would you be above the watuh when you could be below? You have everything here.” The crab explained.
Ariel didn’t understand Sebastian’s point of view so she ventured the deep blue with her best friend, Flounder, wondering if she could ever live among the humans.
He rose up from below the stairs and asked, “What do you do with all these items down here?” as he brought up an old owl cage and some broken round glasses. “These are some of the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen, yet I can’t help but feel mystified”.
:”It’s pretty magical”, I said.
below him is one of the best places to be. as he stands there, a dominating, controlling, captivating figure. sweating, in constant motion. we follow his every move. the best of us, his every breathe. we become one with him, sharing thoughts and emotions, riding the waves of this unified sea of creation. the tips of his fingers command time and space and lead us into infinite directions, urging the onlookers to come with us.
we succumb to the sound, inhale it, and find that we have transcended to a place beyond our mortality, beyond this existence. somewhere bigger than ourselves, someplace amazing. and we’ve traveled there together. that’s the extraordinary part.
There once was a man who lived below my stairs. He was a kind young gentleman with blue eyes and brown curly hair. Oh boy did he have the dimples to die for. I wished everyday he would come upstairs, just walk up 14 steps, and maybe just maybe come see me. So one day I dropped a letter off my stairs and hoped he would find it.
Below me is a bed, but farther down the basement, full of what I assume could be monsters, or storage, or possibly a cat. But bellow all of that could be anything, and old life, and old place, and old body, an old grave? It could be anything at all, who are we to decide what it is, and what it shall be.
My brain is a mushy string
that connects my hands, legs
and feet.
I walk when my strings are pulled tight
like a rope between buildings,
a man walking on a line
on a rope,
that tight of a string
being pulled.
And sometimes the string seems to
fray in places,
in certain places.
Sometimes the string
can twist and knot,
leaving me in a disarray.
Legs refusing to move,
eyes refusing to comprehend,
brain refusing to process.
Motivation deteriorating,
string breaking.
Above me was fog and mist that rose so high that i couldnt make out the sky behind it. Rocks pressed into my sides; moss squelched underneath my feet. And all around me: crashing, tumbling, dancing water. The waterfall dropped down what appeared to be miles below me; looking down caused a wave of vertigo to sweep over me. I closed my eyes and said the thousandth prayer that i wouldn’t fall. Then I continued taking miniscule steps along the ridge consealed by the raging foam, my vision skewed by the shimmering, watery sun up ahead, and the ghosts of rainbows falling across my feet and the pathway in front of me.
Below the tree lied a book filled with all the wonders of the universe. She loved the book more than life itself; it took her to where she needed to be, who she wanted to see, and what she would have never known otherwise.
Below the deep blue sea lies
a mermaid
a trunk
a chest of junk
a wreck
a reef
a thrown-over side of beef
a gem
a bowl
the wreckage of a thousand souls
Below the ice there lives a magical world, full of white little seahorses no larger than your thumb, and tiny fish that you can see straight through. Light blue starfish that glimmer and octopi smaller than the head of a pin that give off streams of sparkles when they feel threatened.
helphelphelphelp
i can feel myself
slipping below
into that darkness.
no one hears me.
the type of person that you did not know you were.
outside of a safeway like it ought to be a safehouse, hands held out, every now and again, to the people who were not adept enough to avoid you; but not so poor you cannot afford earphones, playing songs that bury you, sadness like it something private, and certainly addictive–
the type of person your mother never guessed her son to become.
I sat below the table, cowering like a small child. What else was I supposed to do? They were yelling and throwing both objects and punches. It was the only place I was safe. I covered my ears and screwed my eyes shut as tight as I could. It didn’t help. I held my breath until my lungs burned and my chest felt like it was going to explode. Then it all went black.
The silence encased me, and I forgot how lovely it was to be alone. My thoughts surrounded me, and a voice beckoned from the depths of my mind. I was below no one, no matter how much it seemed to sway that way. I am myself, a being separate from any influence other than my own. The idea thrilled me.
below the ground swells. i try to understand what sleeps there, but it is an immortal mystery.
I’m looking above and I’m looking below. Below the world that I think I live in. Towards more dangerous cliffs and wandering paths. I look down and I realize I am much higher up than I should be. As below awaits, I drift.
look out below. the waves are crashing hard against the platform we are standing on and i can’t tell how much longer that will be able to stand. we should probably just run away now. grab my hand and follow me no matter where i go. i’ll show you places you didn’t even know exist if you only give me the chance.
what is this. Just typing away her, don’t mind me. just typin. thats a lovely purple bar you have down there. stumbleupon sent me to this. i dont know what it is.
There are Things below her bed. They’ve been accumulating there, for years and years and years, and she just never bothers to go underneath and discover them, afraid of what unpleasant memory from yonder ages she might unearth.
She does go below her bed eventually, traveling down, past the comforter, the sheets, the mattress, the bed frame, until she finds her collection of Things. She looks at them for a while, never touching. Simply gazing. And then she’s angry, going through the Things one by one, each evoking something she never thought would ever hurt until now, post-Him, post-Family, and she sees these Things and she chucks them at the wall, imagining his soft face and betraying back as he walks out the door and leaves her behind. With each throw, she hears the door click shut. With every infuriated hurl, she feels her heart breaking a little bit more. Later, she will realize that this mass purging of the below heals as much as it hurts, and she will smile (wince?) as she drops her childhood into the garbage bin at the curb and watches the billowing truck take the tender reminders of her father far, far away.
she put herself below me
no matter how hard i tried
to bring up next to me
what i was
who i am
what i did
was always too much for her
constantly comparing herself
feeling smaller and smaller
so she fell farther and farther
below me
until the only way i could help her
was to leave
Underneath everything lied a broken hearted girl. She put on a smile to cover up the scars and blue blacks, just to survive another day. She once was a strong girl but she couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m fine, don’t worry” was her answer to all questions. Family problems and relationship problems; they crunched up into a big and heavy metal ball that constantly weighs her down. She was like the captain of her ship and used to control the steering well but now it’s going below the surface, onto an icy deserted island. “Goodbye world,” she smiled. All alone with blood on her left wrist, finally, and peacefully, the metal ball disappeared and then she rose with the angels.
Below this fathomable facade lies a girl in wait for her prince. He needs not be charming. He needs not be a prince. Just a decent man with passion in his heart; hardworking in everything he does.
i can’t see what’s below me unless i peak under my chair.
i can’t see what’s below me unless i raise the courage.
i can’t see what’s below me if i can’t leave the comfort zone.
it’s time to be brave.