bronze is the colour of those eyes you saw on the train yesterday morning.
bronze is the color of your blood, once the sun hits it a certain angle.
bronze is what you tasted during your teenage years, when you had braces.
bronze is not a color, or a texture, it’s a feeling.
it’s a notion.
amy
She ran into the temple filled with bronze statues of kings long dead. What secrets those walls could tell. Bronze metalwork and detail covered the walls
Adrianna
a bronze medal is probably what most people are going to write about
Her skin glistened like bronze in the sunlight, as did the beads of sweat that adorned it. It was freeing, relieving, detoxifying.
Sabena
I wakled through the park and tried to ignore all the people waking around it with me. Looking up into the sky, I saw the large bronze statue, looking back at me, taunting me as I went.
the sun glinted off the creatures back, its scales shifting as it moved through the water. it ignored those that stopped to stare at its deformity, and just kept swimming.
Kadi
He raced up the stairs to claim his medal, the sun glinting off the tarnished bronze. he looked into the crowd, and smiled.
Kadi
I picked up the medal and dusted off some of the sand from it. It had an old faded eagle on it, but the text at the bottom had been scratched off and was barely readable. I flipped it around in my fingers and closed my eyes to wait until I could feel the past washing over me. There was a wreckage. And there were several gunshots. I could hear children screaming, and felt the blood splatter all over my face. This was the worst part of this ability – for now I was really in the moment. I could smell the gunpowder, and taste the blood drying on my lip. This medal had fallen off in a struggle to get past defenses, to try and get back home to a family.
“For glory and honor.”
The bronze eagle was proud as it beamed up at the sky, falling from the tattered uniform of a man who had lost his head for what they claimed was the greater good.
the depth of his eyes shine bronze and green and dark and with love. They are everywhere, and have everything. They haunt me, and I crave them
Taylor
The dull metallic glint of early morning sunlight shown effulgent, glancing off of his bronze helmet as an arrow is turned away lightly from the hard surface of a shield.
Bronze stallion raced the ivory mare along the surf. Sun rays nipped along his back propelling him forward into the stinging salt water, shielding the ivory mare against the crashing waves so she could get ahead.
Laura J
I have never worked to excel in my life
never gone for the gold
never reached for the top of the ladder
I have, for the whole of my life
settled for the bronze
allowed myself to be mediocre
Nia Ceridwyn
Writing is kind of like a bicycle. I always end up cycling over the same words. I sharpen the same bronze coloured, break-up trophies in my mind. Let’s talk about this heartbreak. This loss. This pain. Medals, memories, they all empty themselves in my words every time. I read it back and it just looks like the same old thing.
bronzed baby shoes on my grandmothers piano.
they were my mothers. How far she has walked since those days.
Robin
Bronze was her color after being in a long day in the beach…she wanted so much to relax after all the hustle and the bustle of this horrific city…oh is it like that ? or she just like this city and pretends the victim?
Marina
it is a metal . the bronze age in ireland was something that I studied in history for my junior cert. i got a b. i wanted an a. i like ireland. metal is useful. you can use it for many things. I would not like to be a bronze smith though. that is not the ty
daire kinsella
Did you know that bronze medalists in the Olympics are usually much happier about their accomplishments than people who have won silver medals? It’s all psychological. Those who win bronze medals usually didn’t expect to place in the top three at all, so they are more than happy to accept the honor. Silver medalists, on the other hand, are usually grumpy because they think they should have won the gold. Maybe they should take a tip from the 3rd-placers and be happy with how far they’ve come, rather than moping about what could’ve or should’ve been.
Bronze.what in the Sam by heck am I supposed to write about bronze. Bronze is a color. I know a penny is copper but maybe a penny is bronze also. a brownish type of color. Shiny maybe. Hey did you know that today is fast and absence. Only one full meal.
Janaye
goddess olympics she was a bronzed goddess. brown golden bronzed medal third place coppertone shiny better than silver for some.
Kelsey
He dug down deeper; he had come too far to give up now. He felt the strain on his back and the sweat pour down his brow as he swung the pickaxe down one final time. He heard a faint chime from where the axe had made contact with the ground; he had found bronze.
Tommy Hurst
The bronze sculpture was unrecognizable as a person, let alone an image of Christ. The tangled hair swept back into a sort of baseball cap, nested on a face of doughy and half-imagined features.
Chuck
an element, it’s not the best one, because for some reason silver and gold beat it. I don’t understand why, because Bronze is just as beautiful. I think it’s because the money matters. But it shouldn’t, it should just be the usefull ness. I think, therefore, that Bronze should be first place, because, what can you use gold for? Happiness?
L
The bust was made from bronze and resembled Marcus. I had been thinking of the love we shared, and I longed for him, not for the first time.He had not been my first love, he was my only one. We were each others teachers, muses, and soul mates.
Elizabeth Fenno
The bust was made from bronze and resembled Marcus. I had been thinking of the love we shared, and I longed for him, not for the first time.He had not been my first love, he was my only love. we were each others teachers.
Elizabeth Fenno
There was no bronze prize for last place. Ash and Alex drank together in salute of their impending alliance against Dawn, Brenda and Orion.
Ashley
“And another thing,” she said. “What you say isn’t cast in bronze. It is not something to bet the house on, it is not even real, just wishful thinking most of the time.” I still didn’t know what I had done to trigger this rant. People shouldn’t bottle up their grudges and then spill them out like warm jelly, as though their brains had popped open and were leaking.
The statue stood gracefully, I couldn’t help but to envy it’s ease. My hands awkwardly shoved in my pockets, I listened to the hum of my friends’ voices, wishing they would initiate me in conversation.
Courtney Thomas
he had on a bronze ring that would make every girl swoon at his feet uncontrollably. Where did he get it is what al the other guys wanted to know. Was he a superhero of some type?
Her flesh may be sun-bronzed but her heart is as cold as the metal. He brushes his fingers gently on the tanned skin stretched over her collarbones. For a moment it feels as if her warmth is only the left-over radiance from the sun, but she shifts, the long column of her neck arching, oil-dark hair spilling over the linen, and smiles as bright as sunlight reflecting off a glacier. He melts into her.
The sun light reached down, lightly brushing upon the girls arm as it snuck behind the hills after exploding in color. Her skin was bronze the the fading mixture of colors of the sunset. Warm to look at and warm to be around.
S
Bronze, the color of third place
not quite as shiny as one
or won
but lost again
a trophy of apathy
twiddled thumbs and numb
boredom boarding up
emotional walls
wasting away
wasted days
not much left
but third place.
Matty M.
I carry you. A bronze heart. Heavy. Dangling. I wish to hide you but people see. I know they do. Am I too hard? On them? On my own self? Bronze Heart I want to melt you.
His skin. As warm and dark and beautiful as bronze. So warm when you first see it but colder than the deepest, darkest ice when you realize how out of reach it truly is. But his skin, the color of his skin, is so warm and so mesmerizing and I’ll continue dreaming that it will one day reflect how his heart is as well.
Moira
The color that rich people wanted to be in the 70s before poor people could afford package vacations and before skin cancer wiped out a generation of reptile skinned australian sun worshippers.
dg
Like the metal, the cast of your heart rattles against ivory bones and leaden lungs, and clangs like a gong, like a bell. Like sound waves, rippling through the night, I can hear you. I can hear your beating love.
Bronwyn
His skin was bronze like an old medieval shield. As I reached my fingers around his bicep, and peeked out from his sculpted back, I knew I would be safe. No one could hurt me here.
her skined was recently spray tanned giving it that synthetic bronze look that she liked. she pounded on the makeup and put on her fake happy attitude and walked out the door. if she did this right no will ever know the she committed the murder.
It’s a metal, and a color. Also one of those stupid crayons you only get if you buy the 96 crayon box. It’s like “Hey, let everyone at school know that you’re rich (er), you get the metalic crayons. No kid with the 24 pack, you just get normal colors.”
Joe
(i think this was our first time, but fights don’t come easy to him)
always speaking honest to each other is a really good start
but i get caught in poetry & abstractions and then we forget to settle on the same vocabulary again, i am poor at being plain and he has no obligation to be present to me
there is still some arabic in my head
and it doesn’t help the problem any, but i translate my thoughts back and forth
to pass the time between realizing he doesn’t mean to do me harm
and remembering even succulents die
bronze is the colour of those eyes you saw on the train yesterday morning.
bronze is the color of your blood, once the sun hits it a certain angle.
bronze is what you tasted during your teenage years, when you had braces.
bronze is not a color, or a texture, it’s a feeling.
it’s a notion.
She ran into the temple filled with bronze statues of kings long dead. What secrets those walls could tell. Bronze metalwork and detail covered the walls
a bronze medal is probably what most people are going to write about
Her skin glistened like bronze in the sunlight, as did the beads of sweat that adorned it. It was freeing, relieving, detoxifying.
I wakled through the park and tried to ignore all the people waking around it with me. Looking up into the sky, I saw the large bronze statue, looking back at me, taunting me as I went.
the sun glinted off the creatures back, its scales shifting as it moved through the water. it ignored those that stopped to stare at its deformity, and just kept swimming.
He raced up the stairs to claim his medal, the sun glinting off the tarnished bronze. he looked into the crowd, and smiled.
I picked up the medal and dusted off some of the sand from it. It had an old faded eagle on it, but the text at the bottom had been scratched off and was barely readable. I flipped it around in my fingers and closed my eyes to wait until I could feel the past washing over me. There was a wreckage. And there were several gunshots. I could hear children screaming, and felt the blood splatter all over my face. This was the worst part of this ability – for now I was really in the moment. I could smell the gunpowder, and taste the blood drying on my lip. This medal had fallen off in a struggle to get past defenses, to try and get back home to a family.
“For glory and honor.”
The bronze eagle was proud as it beamed up at the sky, falling from the tattered uniform of a man who had lost his head for what they claimed was the greater good.
the depth of his eyes shine bronze and green and dark and with love. They are everywhere, and have everything. They haunt me, and I crave them
The dull metallic glint of early morning sunlight shown effulgent, glancing off of his bronze helmet as an arrow is turned away lightly from the hard surface of a shield.
Bronze stallion raced the ivory mare along the surf. Sun rays nipped along his back propelling him forward into the stinging salt water, shielding the ivory mare against the crashing waves so she could get ahead.
I have never worked to excel in my life
never gone for the gold
never reached for the top of the ladder
I have, for the whole of my life
settled for the bronze
allowed myself to be mediocre
Writing is kind of like a bicycle. I always end up cycling over the same words. I sharpen the same bronze coloured, break-up trophies in my mind. Let’s talk about this heartbreak. This loss. This pain. Medals, memories, they all empty themselves in my words every time. I read it back and it just looks like the same old thing.
bronzed baby shoes on my grandmothers piano.
they were my mothers. How far she has walked since those days.
Bronze was her color after being in a long day in the beach…she wanted so much to relax after all the hustle and the bustle of this horrific city…oh is it like that ? or she just like this city and pretends the victim?
it is a metal . the bronze age in ireland was something that I studied in history for my junior cert. i got a b. i wanted an a. i like ireland. metal is useful. you can use it for many things. I would not like to be a bronze smith though. that is not the ty
Did you know that bronze medalists in the Olympics are usually much happier about their accomplishments than people who have won silver medals? It’s all psychological. Those who win bronze medals usually didn’t expect to place in the top three at all, so they are more than happy to accept the honor. Silver medalists, on the other hand, are usually grumpy because they think they should have won the gold. Maybe they should take a tip from the 3rd-placers and be happy with how far they’ve come, rather than moping about what could’ve or should’ve been.
Bronze.what in the Sam by heck am I supposed to write about bronze. Bronze is a color. I know a penny is copper but maybe a penny is bronze also. a brownish type of color. Shiny maybe. Hey did you know that today is fast and absence. Only one full meal.
goddess olympics she was a bronzed goddess. brown golden bronzed medal third place coppertone shiny better than silver for some.
He dug down deeper; he had come too far to give up now. He felt the strain on his back and the sweat pour down his brow as he swung the pickaxe down one final time. He heard a faint chime from where the axe had made contact with the ground; he had found bronze.
The bronze sculpture was unrecognizable as a person, let alone an image of Christ. The tangled hair swept back into a sort of baseball cap, nested on a face of doughy and half-imagined features.
an element, it’s not the best one, because for some reason silver and gold beat it. I don’t understand why, because Bronze is just as beautiful. I think it’s because the money matters. But it shouldn’t, it should just be the usefull ness. I think, therefore, that Bronze should be first place, because, what can you use gold for? Happiness?
The bust was made from bronze and resembled Marcus. I had been thinking of the love we shared, and I longed for him, not for the first time.He had not been my first love, he was my only one. We were each others teachers, muses, and soul mates.
The bust was made from bronze and resembled Marcus. I had been thinking of the love we shared, and I longed for him, not for the first time.He had not been my first love, he was my only love. we were each others teachers.
There was no bronze prize for last place. Ash and Alex drank together in salute of their impending alliance against Dawn, Brenda and Orion.
“And another thing,” she said. “What you say isn’t cast in bronze. It is not something to bet the house on, it is not even real, just wishful thinking most of the time.” I still didn’t know what I had done to trigger this rant. People shouldn’t bottle up their grudges and then spill them out like warm jelly, as though their brains had popped open and were leaking.
The statue stood gracefully, I couldn’t help but to envy it’s ease. My hands awkwardly shoved in my pockets, I listened to the hum of my friends’ voices, wishing they would initiate me in conversation.
he had on a bronze ring that would make every girl swoon at his feet uncontrollably. Where did he get it is what al the other guys wanted to know. Was he a superhero of some type?
Her flesh may be sun-bronzed but her heart is as cold as the metal. He brushes his fingers gently on the tanned skin stretched over her collarbones. For a moment it feels as if her warmth is only the left-over radiance from the sun, but she shifts, the long column of her neck arching, oil-dark hair spilling over the linen, and smiles as bright as sunlight reflecting off a glacier. He melts into her.
The sun light reached down, lightly brushing upon the girls arm as it snuck behind the hills after exploding in color. Her skin was bronze the the fading mixture of colors of the sunset. Warm to look at and warm to be around.
Bronze, the color of third place
not quite as shiny as one
or won
but lost again
a trophy of apathy
twiddled thumbs and numb
boredom boarding up
emotional walls
wasting away
wasted days
not much left
but third place.
I carry you. A bronze heart. Heavy. Dangling. I wish to hide you but people see. I know they do. Am I too hard? On them? On my own self? Bronze Heart I want to melt you.
His skin. As warm and dark and beautiful as bronze. So warm when you first see it but colder than the deepest, darkest ice when you realize how out of reach it truly is. But his skin, the color of his skin, is so warm and so mesmerizing and I’ll continue dreaming that it will one day reflect how his heart is as well.
The color that rich people wanted to be in the 70s before poor people could afford package vacations and before skin cancer wiped out a generation of reptile skinned australian sun worshippers.
Like the metal, the cast of your heart rattles against ivory bones and leaden lungs, and clangs like a gong, like a bell. Like sound waves, rippling through the night, I can hear you. I can hear your beating love.
His skin was bronze like an old medieval shield. As I reached my fingers around his bicep, and peeked out from his sculpted back, I knew I would be safe. No one could hurt me here.
her skined was recently spray tanned giving it that synthetic bronze look that she liked. she pounded on the makeup and put on her fake happy attitude and walked out the door. if she did this right no will ever know the she committed the murder.
Extraordinarily ordinary; nothing remarkable around
and yet you still hold me like a lost treasure you have found.
It’s a metal, and a color. Also one of those stupid crayons you only get if you buy the 96 crayon box. It’s like “Hey, let everyone at school know that you’re rich (er), you get the metalic crayons. No kid with the 24 pack, you just get normal colors.”
(i think this was our first time, but fights don’t come easy to him)
always speaking honest to each other is a really good start
but i get caught in poetry & abstractions and then we forget to settle on the same vocabulary again, i am poor at being plain and he has no obligation to be present to me
there is still some arabic in my head
and it doesn’t help the problem any, but i translate my thoughts back and forth
to pass the time between realizing he doesn’t mean to do me harm
and remembering even succulents die