on the bench i found a twenty dollar bill and wondered who had left it there, if it was on purpose or an accident. I looked around but saw noone. I thought about taking it, but then had that check in my gut. I got up and walked away, but not before taking a quick glance back.
isaac
we sit on it, we ponder on it, we laugh on it, we cry on it. we are invisible on it, we are noticiable on it. it’s a bench. have you ever just sat in a park on a bench? just sat and watched the people go by? or sat with someone you loved?
One time, when my mom was babysitting my stepbrother and my brother- then just friends, before my dad got remarried- she told them to “sit down and be a mensch (well-behaved child).” My stepbrother immediately jumped up and screamed, “I don’t wanna be a bench!”
I saw a bench as I walked through the park. The wood was worn and old, that faded familiarity which gave it character. This bench had seen asses through the ages, men, fathers, grandfathers, all sitting and resting.
allen barrett
i sat on a bench one morning. it was our bench. the bench where i saw you looking over; the bench where you held my hand for the first time; the bench where you told me, “goodbye.” the bench is still there, and i am still there, waiting underneath the golden canopy of the park trees. it’s a bittersweet moment every time. there’s so much beauty in this world, but it’s useless without you.
Jordan
A sunny day in the park. you sit on a bench to relax and enjoy the sunshine. What a glorious day. Then you get up to continue on your way, and discover the gum that you sat in. Thanks bench.
Crystal
sitting on the bench. waiting. could go one way or the other.
also the bench seems very boring!
or is it boring?
it’s wooden, go into the woodgrain. tells a story of years.
charlotte
I picture an old man, sitting on a bench, looking into the distance with a melancholy look on his face… then he jumps and begins to dance with his cane and walker in hand.
She sat on the cold, hard bench. Rain coming down. Rain masking the tears that fell. She sat alone. Blindly looking out across the field. The field where the sounds of happy children would normally echo.
Carolina
I dream of a bench that does it all. It fallows me so I don’t need to find it. It shapes itself to the contours of my body. It is soft to the touch and reminds me of all soft things. It repairs itself when it gets nicked, and so looks perfect always. When I am feeling low it rises to make me feel elevated and when I’m being arrogant it lowers itself to bring me down to earth. When I’m sleepy it becomes my bed and when I’m overheating in the blazing sun it becomes my shade.
Juan Valencia
Once I sat on a bench for an eternity. I watched the park grow and die. Nothing ever came back. We had destroyed everything. Gone.
connor
i sat on the bench. nothing to do, just sit. it is not really comfortable, but a nice way to pretend i’m relaxed, waiting for someone, or trying to read a book, when all i did is feel i have nowhere to go.
i sit on these
they sometimes look really cool
they are outside
they are brown
made from wood
have bird crap on them
little kids jump from them
sometimes are really short to the ground
found in parks
next to a bike rack
they have arm rests
sunny days
rain
clouds
next to a stairwell
Colbylj
it is something that you sit on and feed pigeons at the park. often times, old ladies will be seen sitting on them feeding bread to the birds. sometimes homeless people sleep on them. there are a lot of awesome designs for benches from famous architects, such as frank gehry. there’s a bench in studio that isn’t very comfortable but people still sit on it.
Jakob
A bench. To sit. To stare. To ponder. To sleep (for some). How many people have sat on a bench? I have. I sat on one at a London underground station. I wept on that bench. For love, for heartbreak, for total aloneness. How many people have cried on benches? I wonder. It must be more than i even think.
Angela McMurray
The bench shuddered in the cold. Empty, it watched the expanse of the side walk covered with brown leaves. The gray metal work was shiny and iced over.
Bench. when I think of a bench, I think of a park. sunny, fluffy clouds in the sky. a little pond with ducks swimming in it, kids throwing stones and playing with toy boats while their parents watch fondly. dogs bark in the distance, excited to catch the frisbees trying to escape their jaws.
Jennifer
a bench is a seat that is usually located outside typically made of a type of wood, im not a fan of metal benches they make my ass cold. I like to smoke cigarettes on benches also if i was from england i might call my wife a bench because of my goofy acent and the fact that i probably couldnt say bitch right. Bench bench bench bench bench bench bench.
Jason
i sat on the bench at the park the other day. it was hard and warmed by the afternon sun. siiting on the bench reminded me of another bench in a nother place, and another time. it rought me back to the days of my youth, when leslie and i sat on the park bench for hours at a time
s
An old man sits on the rickety, cob-webbed bench. He stares into nothingness. His withered hands grip the decaying wood. They fall apart together. They have seen long years.
Carly McPherson
Stanley Park Bench.
I got my first kiss on a bench when I was thirteen
It was wonderful. I was so nervous. Its funny how back then, that was
the biggest, most unbelievable thing that could happen to me.
I wish I was back to those days.
I sat on a bench one day and it was interesting to watch the trees and the birds. Basically everything around me. It was all too peaceful. The bench had no emotion, but emotion is what I felt from everything around me. I suddenly felt a gleem of happiness with in me and my face lit up with a smile.
Daisy
there was a park bench sitting in the middle of the grass. no one passed through, but the bench was always there. watching. taking in the park. soaking up the air, becoming part of the park slowly. blending in. going back to its origin. made out of wood.
liz
Bench like my black skinny bench jeans I’m wearing right now! I love this word. First of all, it sounds great, second of all, sitting on a bench usually means enjoying the outdoor world. It seems to be a great place for thoughts, books, conversations… Benches are where first time Iloveyou’s are exchanged (or at least that’s where I said mine).
i sat on a bench the other day, it was really uncomfortable and ugly and gross, i wanted to wash my hands afterward. I don’t like public benches, hobos sit on them and they smell bad and have germs. i like picnic benches in the park though. i like to have picnics on them, but benches in the city are just gross.
alana liebenthal
I sit on benches. People paint on benches. People make benches out of lots of different things. I make benches out of wood. Some people make benches out of stone or plastic or metal. There are some benches in a park a couple towns over from me. They are very sturdy. I like sturdy benches.
Gretta
i was sitting on a bench when suddenly an old gentleman approached me. he sat down. no, i remember now, he kneeled. slightly. gentle. gentle. and he put his hand out. he stretched it out and he said ‘take it.’ ‘take this.’ but, there was nothing in his hand. he kneeled there, and we stared at one another. and i took it.
Janae Adams
Sitting in a bench can be really relaxing. You can think, you can observe, you can breathe, you can do almost everything you wan to do, but mostly, in silence. You don’t really need to have somebody there with you.
Claudia
benches are usually at parks. i dont really sit on benches but i would i fi was tired. benches are usually gross because thers gum but in movies people usually fall in love in parks by sitting on a bench together and it depresses me when i watch love movies because i dont have a boyfirned to watch with me
margo
The bench was wooden and warm, but his hand was cold against mine. The rain had stopped but i wasn’t sure it was over. i wasn’t certain about anything anymore. the birds had begun to chirp and i watched as one poked at the fresh soil, searching for the worms which had been drawn out from the storm. “Emily,” he said, but i didn’t turn to face him and he lost his nerve.
He sat on the park bench, quiet, reflective. The spring breeze stirred up the antique smell of his worn leather jacket and toyed with the thin wisps of white hair around his face. He sighed, heavily, watching children dart and prance in the new grass, chasing ducks and plucking dandelions. His glasses slid down his nose; he pushed them back with a gesture grown mechanical over the years. Rustling his newspaper to shake out the wrinkles, he squinted to read the headline on page two. “Senior citizens happier, healthier, more active than previous generations,” it boasted. He set the paper down next to him, leaned back against the bench, pulled his hat down lower over his eyes, adjusted his cane next to him, and smiled.
Today, I went to the park. I sat down at the bench nearby, but I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing there. I never wander around aimlessly, especially on days as windy as this, but maybe this was a special occasion? Something was calling to me. Something or someone would be waiting for me here.
Park benches are pretty uncomfortable, and the ones downtown always have hobos on them. They really should be made with the people in mind, and not just sleepy hobos. That being said, I’d love to see some stylish benches every once in a while. Modernized.
A bench in a park. It is wooden, brown, simple. An elderly woman sits upon it, watching the passers by walk merrily in the sunshine. She wishes she could still pass through life with so much ease. She sighs, glances at her cane, then shifts her gaze back to the sun.
Melissa
It was an old bench, set against the wall of the clinic. Whenever all the chairs were filled, patients would sit there – old ladies with rosaries, chatty toddlers with their mothers, nervous young men.
Today the bench had only one occupant, a young woman smoking. She smoked, glancing at the clock, her watch, tapping her feet restlessly on the tiled floor.
on the becn sat the chulu who’s finger’s grasped a cane of gnarled, ash wood. through the lens of the compound eye, the sunset came in all the colors of infared.
southpaw
When I was little I would sit for a moment or two with my sister on the bench it the park. It was rickety on one side and had a piece missing. We would try to pretend that we knew where the missing piece was and would spend hours playing treasure hunt. I still wonder where it is today.
Alex
One of my favorite memories about college: taking naps between classes on campus benches during sunny winter days. A long day was nothing as long as I had a bench nap with my ipod.
A bench is a useless thing to write about. The only thing interesting about it is the fact that you don’t actually know who sat there before you. It kind of gives you a gross feeling actually….thinking about the fact that you could be sitting in the same exact spot as someone you absolutely despise….or a disgusting individual. I guess it’s just more the idea that germs spread so easily that creeps people out about benches.
on the bench i found a twenty dollar bill and wondered who had left it there, if it was on purpose or an accident. I looked around but saw noone. I thought about taking it, but then had that check in my gut. I got up and walked away, but not before taking a quick glance back.
we sit on it, we ponder on it, we laugh on it, we cry on it. we are invisible on it, we are noticiable on it. it’s a bench. have you ever just sat in a park on a bench? just sat and watched the people go by? or sat with someone you loved?
One time, when my mom was babysitting my stepbrother and my brother- then just friends, before my dad got remarried- she told them to “sit down and be a mensch (well-behaved child).” My stepbrother immediately jumped up and screamed, “I don’t wanna be a bench!”
I saw a bench as I walked through the park. The wood was worn and old, that faded familiarity which gave it character. This bench had seen asses through the ages, men, fathers, grandfathers, all sitting and resting.
i sat on a bench one morning. it was our bench. the bench where i saw you looking over; the bench where you held my hand for the first time; the bench where you told me, “goodbye.” the bench is still there, and i am still there, waiting underneath the golden canopy of the park trees. it’s a bittersweet moment every time. there’s so much beauty in this world, but it’s useless without you.
A sunny day in the park. you sit on a bench to relax and enjoy the sunshine. What a glorious day. Then you get up to continue on your way, and discover the gum that you sat in. Thanks bench.
sitting on the bench. waiting. could go one way or the other.
also the bench seems very boring!
or is it boring?
it’s wooden, go into the woodgrain. tells a story of years.
I picture an old man, sitting on a bench, looking into the distance with a melancholy look on his face… then he jumps and begins to dance with his cane and walker in hand.
She sat on the cold, hard bench. Rain coming down. Rain masking the tears that fell. She sat alone. Blindly looking out across the field. The field where the sounds of happy children would normally echo.
I dream of a bench that does it all. It fallows me so I don’t need to find it. It shapes itself to the contours of my body. It is soft to the touch and reminds me of all soft things. It repairs itself when it gets nicked, and so looks perfect always. When I am feeling low it rises to make me feel elevated and when I’m being arrogant it lowers itself to bring me down to earth. When I’m sleepy it becomes my bed and when I’m overheating in the blazing sun it becomes my shade.
Once I sat on a bench for an eternity. I watched the park grow and die. Nothing ever came back. We had destroyed everything. Gone.
i sat on the bench. nothing to do, just sit. it is not really comfortable, but a nice way to pretend i’m relaxed, waiting for someone, or trying to read a book, when all i did is feel i have nowhere to go.
i sit on these
they sometimes look really cool
they are outside
they are brown
made from wood
have bird crap on them
little kids jump from them
sometimes are really short to the ground
found in parks
next to a bike rack
they have arm rests
sunny days
rain
clouds
next to a stairwell
it is something that you sit on and feed pigeons at the park. often times, old ladies will be seen sitting on them feeding bread to the birds. sometimes homeless people sleep on them. there are a lot of awesome designs for benches from famous architects, such as frank gehry. there’s a bench in studio that isn’t very comfortable but people still sit on it.
A bench. To sit. To stare. To ponder. To sleep (for some). How many people have sat on a bench? I have. I sat on one at a London underground station. I wept on that bench. For love, for heartbreak, for total aloneness. How many people have cried on benches? I wonder. It must be more than i even think.
The bench shuddered in the cold. Empty, it watched the expanse of the side walk covered with brown leaves. The gray metal work was shiny and iced over.
Bench. when I think of a bench, I think of a park. sunny, fluffy clouds in the sky. a little pond with ducks swimming in it, kids throwing stones and playing with toy boats while their parents watch fondly. dogs bark in the distance, excited to catch the frisbees trying to escape their jaws.
a bench is a seat that is usually located outside typically made of a type of wood, im not a fan of metal benches they make my ass cold. I like to smoke cigarettes on benches also if i was from england i might call my wife a bench because of my goofy acent and the fact that i probably couldnt say bitch right. Bench bench bench bench bench bench bench.
i sat on the bench at the park the other day. it was hard and warmed by the afternon sun. siiting on the bench reminded me of another bench in a nother place, and another time. it rought me back to the days of my youth, when leslie and i sat on the park bench for hours at a time
An old man sits on the rickety, cob-webbed bench. He stares into nothingness. His withered hands grip the decaying wood. They fall apart together. They have seen long years.
Stanley Park Bench.
I got my first kiss on a bench when I was thirteen
It was wonderful. I was so nervous. Its funny how back then, that was
the biggest, most unbelievable thing that could happen to me.
I wish I was back to those days.
I sat on a bench one day and it was interesting to watch the trees and the birds. Basically everything around me. It was all too peaceful. The bench had no emotion, but emotion is what I felt from everything around me. I suddenly felt a gleem of happiness with in me and my face lit up with a smile.
there was a park bench sitting in the middle of the grass. no one passed through, but the bench was always there. watching. taking in the park. soaking up the air, becoming part of the park slowly. blending in. going back to its origin. made out of wood.
Bench like my black skinny bench jeans I’m wearing right now! I love this word. First of all, it sounds great, second of all, sitting on a bench usually means enjoying the outdoor world. It seems to be a great place for thoughts, books, conversations… Benches are where first time Iloveyou’s are exchanged (or at least that’s where I said mine).
i sat on a bench the other day, it was really uncomfortable and ugly and gross, i wanted to wash my hands afterward. I don’t like public benches, hobos sit on them and they smell bad and have germs. i like picnic benches in the park though. i like to have picnics on them, but benches in the city are just gross.
I sit on benches. People paint on benches. People make benches out of lots of different things. I make benches out of wood. Some people make benches out of stone or plastic or metal. There are some benches in a park a couple towns over from me. They are very sturdy. I like sturdy benches.
i was sitting on a bench when suddenly an old gentleman approached me. he sat down. no, i remember now, he kneeled. slightly. gentle. gentle. and he put his hand out. he stretched it out and he said ‘take it.’ ‘take this.’ but, there was nothing in his hand. he kneeled there, and we stared at one another. and i took it.
Sitting in a bench can be really relaxing. You can think, you can observe, you can breathe, you can do almost everything you wan to do, but mostly, in silence. You don’t really need to have somebody there with you.
benches are usually at parks. i dont really sit on benches but i would i fi was tired. benches are usually gross because thers gum but in movies people usually fall in love in parks by sitting on a bench together and it depresses me when i watch love movies because i dont have a boyfirned to watch with me
The bench was wooden and warm, but his hand was cold against mine. The rain had stopped but i wasn’t sure it was over. i wasn’t certain about anything anymore. the birds had begun to chirp and i watched as one poked at the fresh soil, searching for the worms which had been drawn out from the storm. “Emily,” he said, but i didn’t turn to face him and he lost his nerve.
He sat on the park bench, quiet, reflective. The spring breeze stirred up the antique smell of his worn leather jacket and toyed with the thin wisps of white hair around his face. He sighed, heavily, watching children dart and prance in the new grass, chasing ducks and plucking dandelions. His glasses slid down his nose; he pushed them back with a gesture grown mechanical over the years. Rustling his newspaper to shake out the wrinkles, he squinted to read the headline on page two. “Senior citizens happier, healthier, more active than previous generations,” it boasted. He set the paper down next to him, leaned back against the bench, pulled his hat down lower over his eyes, adjusted his cane next to him, and smiled.
Today, I went to the park. I sat down at the bench nearby, but I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing there. I never wander around aimlessly, especially on days as windy as this, but maybe this was a special occasion? Something was calling to me. Something or someone would be waiting for me here.
Lounging in the park, the couple, at the bench, embraced each other, completely enveloped in their own special world; a world of pure bliss.
Park benches are pretty uncomfortable, and the ones downtown always have hobos on them. They really should be made with the people in mind, and not just sleepy hobos. That being said, I’d love to see some stylish benches every once in a while. Modernized.
A bench in a park. It is wooden, brown, simple. An elderly woman sits upon it, watching the passers by walk merrily in the sunshine. She wishes she could still pass through life with so much ease. She sighs, glances at her cane, then shifts her gaze back to the sun.
It was an old bench, set against the wall of the clinic. Whenever all the chairs were filled, patients would sit there – old ladies with rosaries, chatty toddlers with their mothers, nervous young men.
Today the bench had only one occupant, a young woman smoking. She smoked, glancing at the clock, her watch, tapping her feet restlessly on the tiled floor.
on the becn sat the chulu who’s finger’s grasped a cane of gnarled, ash wood. through the lens of the compound eye, the sunset came in all the colors of infared.
When I was little I would sit for a moment or two with my sister on the bench it the park. It was rickety on one side and had a piece missing. We would try to pretend that we knew where the missing piece was and would spend hours playing treasure hunt. I still wonder where it is today.
One of my favorite memories about college: taking naps between classes on campus benches during sunny winter days. A long day was nothing as long as I had a bench nap with my ipod.
A bench is a useless thing to write about. The only thing interesting about it is the fact that you don’t actually know who sat there before you. It kind of gives you a gross feeling actually….thinking about the fact that you could be sitting in the same exact spot as someone you absolutely despise….or a disgusting individual. I guess it’s just more the idea that germs spread so easily that creeps people out about benches.