Red, heavy, full of purpose it sits there, squat and uncaring. It is an artefact devoid of meaning, infinitely useful for it’s lack of immediate uses. It could be the cornerstone of a new construction, or could stove in a head, ending a life.
Simon McNeil
you are not the golden brick in the wall.
you are my brick
i dive in to get you
to the depths i go
i can carry you up until i break
the surface.
azitta
I already wrote about this word. When I see the word brick, I think about brick houses. I’m not sure why, but they remind me of a foundation and something that can keep you safe. Like a brick house. Stable. I should probably get me a brick house.
It’s red, rectangular, & hard. You can seriously injure someone with this object. Please do not do this & use a brick with caution. It’s also use to make houses.
Destiny
i think that bricks are pretty, especially when they are in a wall, held by cement.
Helen
“hit me with a brick,ratchet. i can see how stopping and bending time could make space travel quicker, but for the life of me i don’t see how that could make anyone see into the future. “
a false terl
I once saw a brick house. It wasn’t very big, it was one of those type of houses you see back in the day. With only old people living in it. It had flowers all around it and it was the only house around for miles. It was calming
Elizabeth Grosse
Brick. It’s red and hard. You hit people with it when you’re mad or when you’re just plain angry. I remember bricks from the story, “The Three Little Pigs”
Destiny
You can use it to build houses with, it’s hard and rectangular, it’s usually brown, but the color may vary, it’s five letters and starts with a “b”.
Sharon
I love brick walls that are covered in ivy, the russet colour a perfect complement for the fresh greens and browns that wrap around as it climbs for the sun.
I often climbed brick walls when I was younger, my friend stayed on the other side of the wall. Scaling up the wall was a simple pleasure of childhood that I miss during moments of reflection. It took but a few minutes to meet her. To meet a friend now takes days of texts and planning.
Brick house in a suburban hood, stuck up rich people, retired elders, the place i grew up. I’m just starting this so it’s hard for me to think of what to say. But when I hear brick I think of my brick house.
ive liked you for a dozen years a dozen years ive liked you for a dozen years a dozen years. ive liked you for a dozen years a dozen years ive liked you for a dozen years. a dozen years. …… its stuck in my head.
Brick wall.
Waterfall.
I remember that poem. the one people would sing, but i never really knew the words.
There was a game with it, a hand shake of some sort.
One I never really knew.
Maybe now it is the time.
To learn.
Brick wall.
Waterfall.
Julie Huberty
I feel like there is a brick sitting in my chest. Weighing me down and pushing down my organs into flat pieces… almost invisible. I feel like there is a brick in my head, keeping in the mundane pieces of a pattern and stifling out anything I love.
Taylor
I don’t push bricks, nor do I stack them for a living. But I do throw up bricks with great regularity when I play basketball.
i already did this word once, but im bored so im doing it again and since thats what im doing i guess im not quite sure what to write on the silly little thing. all i know is well. oh wait scratch that. no i dont. :D
His punch was like being struck by a brick. I had always heard Jeff could fight, but this… I wasn’t going to be able to take him down and I knew it. The thing was, I wouldn’t see a dime unless I made it to at least the sixth round.
Raymond Masters
on houses. most houses are made of bricks. it makes me think of fire trucks because fire houses usually are made of bricks and so are houses. they are red. my house is made of bricks. they are hard and heavy, i wouldnt want one to drop on my foot because that would hurt alot.
adriana
Bricks are never appreciated enough in their time; they’ve done so much for us, humans, for society. They’re there and hold up our homes, places that are dear to us. They’re the bottom of life, yet they are necessary for everything. If it wasn’t for them, it wouldn’t’ve been possible for normal life to progress.
I see the you are one brick of many in a high rise of pathetic affluence. Piece by piece, this structure shall crumble.
Dorothy
the houses along the road while i am in the city and queens they are made out of brick.. its quaint and charming! Even though brick has become less common on houses i find it very sweet its so funny that i like brick houses because im all about elegance and such! I remember the three little bigs the most important kind of house was the brick house! like the straw and stick ones didnt last but the brick ones did! lol
Stephanie
There is a brink in the wall of the great church that surrounds the market square. Nobody notices it or looks at it, but it’s there. And it always wil be looking out onto the street.
Mary
itis red and sometimes brown and holds rooms together with a lot of force. it is heavy and can withstand a lot of force. you can build tall buildings
amy
she lives in a fairytale somewhere too far for us to find. forgotten the taste and smell of a world that she’s left behind. it’s all about the exposure, the lens, i told her. the angles are all wrong. now she’s ripping wings off of butterflies. keep your feet on the ground when you head’s in the
Delaine
The brick wall was damp against my back. I shivered, shaking rain from my bangs like a wet dog. I got a frustrated glance in response. The air was thick with moisture as I sucked in a breath, waiting for the signal. It was all down hill from there.
There lay a brick, slightly out of place. Its edges softened from decades of sleepy-headed students shuffling their tennis shoes along the paths.
Chris Rogers
in venezuela i got a beautiful house made of bricks i love that house but i have to come to panama and live here
viviane
The bricks of the old building were practically crumbling. They had been there hundreds of years, and ivy and rain had weathered them away. It was a miracle anyone could still live here, in this building with its mansard roof, its facade a tangle of dark green ivy.
Monique
The building was made of solid brick, yet his fist seemed to go through it like butter. What kind of monster was this? The mutant turned and looked at me, eyes calculating and cold. His name would be brick from now on, from how easily he started to tear the foundation from the building that was supposed to withstand even time.
A brick. They’re heavy to carry around. I carried one around for a while, when I felt completely worthless and invaluable. But God took my brick from me and told me I am beautiful. It’s one of the million of reasons why I am in love with Him.
Bricks are the literal building blocks of the world. They come in many shapes, colors, and forms. You can find cement bricks in houses, red bricks in schools, even lego bricks in a child’s living room. They are components which, when put together, create something new and wonderful.
Ruthie
And then it hit me like a brick. I /did/ love him. I’d spent all summer trying not to, telling myself I didn’t, but the evidence was incontrovertible and I loved him. I stood, staring past my parents and feeling my heart rise gleefully behind my ribs.
It’s red and hard and it’s used to build things. Sometimes I feel like my brother’s head is one. I can see it baking in the warm, Mexican sun and being laid by sweaty migrant workers. The men toil and labor and in about a week they see the fruits of their hands. A wall or a house made of baked mud. It’s a monument to hard work and determination.
Wes
Hard and cold. Stone. Block. So hurt and sad. Everything hurts. So sad. So alone. So scared. So numb.
Kaitlin
A wall of bricks, solid and whole, but what’s this? One brick lies separate, alone.
Where does it go?
How can it fit in to what is already complete?
Perhaps it longs to be free. I shall chuck it in the sea.
Craig
There was a red brick that smashed through the front bay window of their lovely san Francisco home. Was it him? Was she in danger? She peered out the curtains as she saw the hooded man run down the street.
Amy Giardiniere
All they needed was one brick to complete the architectural masterpiece they have been working on for days. But where was that brick? They couldn’t find it. They searched everywhere but couldn’t seem to find it. It lied within their souls. Faith.
FaridaEzzat
bricks. they’re strong, unmoving. so much unlike me. if i was anything, i’d be a feather: light and easy to bend to your will. i don’t do what i want, i do what others want me to do. if i could only be a little stronger, a little more in touch with what i wanted…!
line upon line
precept upon precept
brick upon brick
building an edifice
reaching to the heavens
Motherhood
a foundation of bricks, a diminishing of our natural selves. a manmade world, a separation from our earth.
Red, heavy, full of purpose it sits there, squat and uncaring. It is an artefact devoid of meaning, infinitely useful for it’s lack of immediate uses. It could be the cornerstone of a new construction, or could stove in a head, ending a life.
you are not the golden brick in the wall.
you are my brick
i dive in to get you
to the depths i go
i can carry you up until i break
the surface.
I already wrote about this word. When I see the word brick, I think about brick houses. I’m not sure why, but they remind me of a foundation and something that can keep you safe. Like a brick house. Stable. I should probably get me a brick house.
It’s red, rectangular, & hard. You can seriously injure someone with this object. Please do not do this & use a brick with caution. It’s also use to make houses.
i think that bricks are pretty, especially when they are in a wall, held by cement.
“hit me with a brick,ratchet. i can see how stopping and bending time could make space travel quicker, but for the life of me i don’t see how that could make anyone see into the future. “
I once saw a brick house. It wasn’t very big, it was one of those type of houses you see back in the day. With only old people living in it. It had flowers all around it and it was the only house around for miles. It was calming
Brick. It’s red and hard. You hit people with it when you’re mad or when you’re just plain angry. I remember bricks from the story, “The Three Little Pigs”
You can use it to build houses with, it’s hard and rectangular, it’s usually brown, but the color may vary, it’s five letters and starts with a “b”.
I love brick walls that are covered in ivy, the russet colour a perfect complement for the fresh greens and browns that wrap around as it climbs for the sun.
I often climbed brick walls when I was younger, my friend stayed on the other side of the wall. Scaling up the wall was a simple pleasure of childhood that I miss during moments of reflection. It took but a few minutes to meet her. To meet a friend now takes days of texts and planning.
Brick house in a suburban hood, stuck up rich people, retired elders, the place i grew up. I’m just starting this so it’s hard for me to think of what to say. But when I hear brick I think of my brick house.
ive liked you for a dozen years a dozen years ive liked you for a dozen years a dozen years. ive liked you for a dozen years a dozen years ive liked you for a dozen years. a dozen years. …… its stuck in my head.
Brick wall.
Waterfall.
I remember that poem. the one people would sing, but i never really knew the words.
There was a game with it, a hand shake of some sort.
One I never really knew.
Maybe now it is the time.
To learn.
Brick wall.
Waterfall.
I feel like there is a brick sitting in my chest. Weighing me down and pushing down my organs into flat pieces… almost invisible. I feel like there is a brick in my head, keeping in the mundane pieces of a pattern and stifling out anything I love.
I don’t push bricks, nor do I stack them for a living. But I do throw up bricks with great regularity when I play basketball.
i already did this word once, but im bored so im doing it again and since thats what im doing i guess im not quite sure what to write on the silly little thing. all i know is well. oh wait scratch that. no i dont. :D
His punch was like being struck by a brick. I had always heard Jeff could fight, but this… I wasn’t going to be able to take him down and I knew it. The thing was, I wouldn’t see a dime unless I made it to at least the sixth round.
on houses. most houses are made of bricks. it makes me think of fire trucks because fire houses usually are made of bricks and so are houses. they are red. my house is made of bricks. they are hard and heavy, i wouldnt want one to drop on my foot because that would hurt alot.
Bricks are never appreciated enough in their time; they’ve done so much for us, humans, for society. They’re there and hold up our homes, places that are dear to us. They’re the bottom of life, yet they are necessary for everything. If it wasn’t for them, it wouldn’t’ve been possible for normal life to progress.
I see the you are one brick of many in a high rise of pathetic affluence. Piece by piece, this structure shall crumble.
the houses along the road while i am in the city and queens they are made out of brick.. its quaint and charming! Even though brick has become less common on houses i find it very sweet its so funny that i like brick houses because im all about elegance and such! I remember the three little bigs the most important kind of house was the brick house! like the straw and stick ones didnt last but the brick ones did! lol
There is a brink in the wall of the great church that surrounds the market square. Nobody notices it or looks at it, but it’s there. And it always wil be looking out onto the street.
itis red and sometimes brown and holds rooms together with a lot of force. it is heavy and can withstand a lot of force. you can build tall buildings
she lives in a fairytale somewhere too far for us to find. forgotten the taste and smell of a world that she’s left behind. it’s all about the exposure, the lens, i told her. the angles are all wrong. now she’s ripping wings off of butterflies. keep your feet on the ground when you head’s in the
The brick wall was damp against my back. I shivered, shaking rain from my bangs like a wet dog. I got a frustrated glance in response. The air was thick with moisture as I sucked in a breath, waiting for the signal. It was all down hill from there.
There lay a brick, slightly out of place. Its edges softened from decades of sleepy-headed students shuffling their tennis shoes along the paths.
in venezuela i got a beautiful house made of bricks i love that house but i have to come to panama and live here
The bricks of the old building were practically crumbling. They had been there hundreds of years, and ivy and rain had weathered them away. It was a miracle anyone could still live here, in this building with its mansard roof, its facade a tangle of dark green ivy.
The building was made of solid brick, yet his fist seemed to go through it like butter. What kind of monster was this? The mutant turned and looked at me, eyes calculating and cold. His name would be brick from now on, from how easily he started to tear the foundation from the building that was supposed to withstand even time.
A brick. They’re heavy to carry around. I carried one around for a while, when I felt completely worthless and invaluable. But God took my brick from me and told me I am beautiful. It’s one of the million of reasons why I am in love with Him.
Bricks are the literal building blocks of the world. They come in many shapes, colors, and forms. You can find cement bricks in houses, red bricks in schools, even lego bricks in a child’s living room. They are components which, when put together, create something new and wonderful.
And then it hit me like a brick. I /did/ love him. I’d spent all summer trying not to, telling myself I didn’t, but the evidence was incontrovertible and I loved him. I stood, staring past my parents and feeling my heart rise gleefully behind my ribs.
It’s red and hard and it’s used to build things. Sometimes I feel like my brother’s head is one. I can see it baking in the warm, Mexican sun and being laid by sweaty migrant workers. The men toil and labor and in about a week they see the fruits of their hands. A wall or a house made of baked mud. It’s a monument to hard work and determination.
Hard and cold. Stone. Block. So hurt and sad. Everything hurts. So sad. So alone. So scared. So numb.
A wall of bricks, solid and whole, but what’s this? One brick lies separate, alone.
Where does it go?
How can it fit in to what is already complete?
Perhaps it longs to be free. I shall chuck it in the sea.
There was a red brick that smashed through the front bay window of their lovely san Francisco home. Was it him? Was she in danger? She peered out the curtains as she saw the hooded man run down the street.
All they needed was one brick to complete the architectural masterpiece they have been working on for days. But where was that brick? They couldn’t find it. They searched everywhere but couldn’t seem to find it. It lied within their souls. Faith.
bricks. they’re strong, unmoving. so much unlike me. if i was anything, i’d be a feather: light and easy to bend to your will. i don’t do what i want, i do what others want me to do. if i could only be a little stronger, a little more in touch with what i wanted…!