It was all she need to capture the beauty of the moment. Time stood still as she focused her sight and her lens on the magnificent scene before her.
Laurie Fisk
If you knew my mind,
it would tell you what to do,
I never wanted to eat this mildew,
Ya captured me before I knew
and then my bread with a Jew
And now I eat the mildew,
In the morning dew….
she breathed in deeply. the moment was perfect – the sky was still, not a bird chirped and even the wind had died down. she aimed and clicked down the shutter.
sophia
ok, you’ve got it. my attention is yours. Everytime I try to talk to you, if anyone in the community comes up, you cut me off. It’s like you’re so afraid to gossip that you won’t even learn about pertinent information to you. sometimes peoples lives are messy and sometimes it’s going to matter to you, because as concerned as you are with gossip, I am just as concerned with judgementalism.
Gloria
I want to capture your heart, to encase it in paper and let ink fill your veins
This is my story, my own soul splayed out on the operation table. Here are the tools, break it open in anyway you want to. You’re the one in charge.
My character is but your eyes, but my character was not made for you. He was meant to live and breathe in the pages, and there he stays.
Though if what he learned fills you, then I’ve done my job.
The stale smell of illness lingered in the room. Patients moaned in restless sleep, hacking coughs captured in their chests. Somewhere close by, the pungent scent of herbal medicine cut through the stagnant air. All of of this by itself was bad enough, but as soon as I looked at the shrouded figures in each bed, I instantly wished I had not.
Cages. Not real ones. Ones made of trees and buildings. Of grass and concrete. No escape. No escape. Chasing, cornering, hunting, running, hiding. I tried. I did. They keep coming. Fear, paranoia, destiny. I’m trapped.
If you knew my mind,
it would tell you what to do,
I never wanted to see this mildew,
You captured me before I knew
but you broke bread with a Jew
And now I eat my mildew,
In the morning dew….
I can capture the moment with a camera, or a sentence. I am a master of capturing the moment, just you see. I adore the ebb and flow of life, and all that.
Ashley
A memorizing scene when riding the bus I hear screams.
A moment in time stops and the surroundings are captured.
I turn to see what was such a fuss, and see a rapture.
The earth was cracking and we were all panic attacking.
We are at the end of our existence.
Praying our lives be spared, and knowing how it is so unfair.
Our families alone. Not knowing what had happened.
We sunk into the earth with speed and no traction.
Finally it ends with all our skulls cracking.
The earth’s revolving now speeds backward.
Lives flash before our eyes while it’s happening.
We die knowing where our souls will be happily.
We tend to capture images and photographs with our cameras. But how often do we actually capture them into our heads? How often, do we actually keep the essence of such moments after time has passed on… Life just goes by, as people do, and all we have is a moment, the present, although it could have been a lot more difficult when we relate to the past. If only we can capture every beautiful fragments in life…
I like to capture beautiful photos. Photos of sunsets and beaches. Photos of expression.
Jennifer O'Handley
Like a wild hare, she will be snared. Captured in as much of my eye as my camera. Though she shall dare to flee, there’s no where I won’t be, and no where she can hide from my rapture.
JC
He is captured in her rapture – no escape without fracture.
My attention span is the hardest thing to capture. I’ll listen to you for ten, fifteen, thirty minutes, but the moment the conversation turns to the doldrums…I’m gone. Maybe i’ll come back, but that will only be to capture your attention
Capture re-capture. It’s what we do when we know that there is absolutly no way we can control the forces of nature. SO we try to count it instead.
Maja
I love it when a book is captivating, when you’re captured by the story. It can hold your imagination captive and show you things you wouldn’t have otherwise seen. I guess all authors want that power, but only the good ones are given it by their readers.
His face was just perfect, Annie had to capture it forever. She looked through the viewfinder. He never noticed the girl with the old fashioned camera as she clicked the shutter switch and smiled to herself.
Helen
moments frozen in time, time that drags with each seconds and rolls over into minutes into hours and days. until weeks have gone by and moments flash past and even with the biggest hands it’s impossible to snatch them up and keep.
i capture your mind and into the word you must eat our heart and die without second flavor or emotion. The word is our bond to the limitless possibilities of flight and god. The hard drive captures death into our minds, and birds do sleep and weep. Keep the feet here and there, everywhere. You must die in death and dying. Quit your sleeping old man. Capture the birds. Capture his mind, capture his fate, and capture your true self.
j
He’d captured her heart. Every crack that the rest had left, his love filled and she could not imagine spending the rest of her life with anyone else.
Arielle
Capture a fleeting thought by writing it down. I’m trying, I really am, but sometimes if I write things down, it realizes things that I can’t seem to face. I try to capture the essence of my life as it is now, but my hands can’t seem to grasp it.
i would like to capture a turtle and put it in my bathroom tub.Also, the capture needs to be exciting and something adventures to me. i would ALso like to capture a horse and put i
nay
the image captured in my mind. like a bullet from a gun fired at high speed, and shot from a long point of view. The capture hurt the image craved into my mind so suddenly. like a bullet, the image captured.
FINN
She struggled, tears streaming down her cheeks and blood making her hand sticky and slick at the same time, but they would not release her. She fought and fought, trying to run when finally the blood caused her hands to slip free of the rope and she ran. She ran as fast as she could, as fast as the wind, but a single crack broke the air and left her cold.
Capture means to take by force or to take prisoner. In books and television shows, allies of one’s enemy are often captured.
Damaris
I captured a monkey the other day. It yelled and screamed and I felt sad. IT was sad. Anyways, capture reminds me of rapture. I’m trying to capture my thoughts right now and I can’t. I’m trapped. My mind is trapped how the hell am I supposed to write and think?
J
There is a moment, when you can take it all back. There is a moment — not a long moment, but it is there, and it is always there — when you stand on the precipice of decision, and any one action can send you tipping one way or another.
Capture her heart. Rule the world. Grab her and drag her into the darkness where water ripples and moonlight bathes the soul. She’ll be mine. All mine.
I was captured immediately by the surprised look in your eyes when you first saw me. It was simply captivating, your smile, pearly and honest, your eyes, deep and quiet and your lips, full and pink.
The artist grips the pencil in a clenched fist. Useless. Trash. Garbage. Destroy it.
For so long, for so looong, he has worked night and day to draw her likeness. From memory. That one glimpse of her angelic face and he was smitten, and the next second committed to a personal vow that he would capture her beautiful visage on paper. But alas, mere graphite and sheets of white paper do not do her justice. The old man sighs, crumples the failure, and begins again. This time, he will certainly achieve a masterpiece worthy to be called the spitting image of her.
“she disappeared yesterday, right?”
“really? i haven’t heard.”
“it was the usual crime.” her voice was hushed, almost as if she was imparting a terrible secret. “she had it, you know? the-” she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “well, it’s a shame.”
he shook his head in dismay. “the list just keeps getting longer.”
“well, what do you expect? she deserved everything she got.”
“did she?” he paused. “does anyone ever get what they deserve?”
“it doesn’t matter either way. she’s gone now, and that’s the end of it. there’s no point in talking about it.”
“she was your best friend, wasn’t she?”
“like i said, it doesn’t matter.” she sighed. “she was just one from a litany of souls. one from a list of people that no longer exist.”
She runs, hoping to escape. He chases, hoping to capture, to ensare, to seize. If only, if only she had longer legs and even much more stamina. But alas, she trips, falls, splatters her face on the wet earth. He has caught up to her, smirking beneath his hood. Dear God, no…
Immediately, he reaches down and grips her by the wrist, hauling her up to her knees.
“My dear, you didn’t possibly think you could escape me, did you?” That smirk..
Sweet Jesus… She knew.. he was to return her to Hell…
Sometimes I wish I could capture your face when you laugh. I know for sure that if you saw it, you would realize how much you are truly worth. I guess you have a slight idea but there is no real amount.
We capture small children every day. Some are black and some are white. Some are skinny and some are fat. The fat ones are good for cannon fodder. We put them in the tanks and wheel them onto the field.
People say we’re sick, but we know there’s a war to be won. The adults won’t fight. We need the children. They have the passion in their hearts. But then someone calls me devil and I don’t understand why. Am I devil? Or am I messiah for making these kids fight for the cause?
Belinda Roddie
Gone from the scene like a mad clown who ran out of face paint, Cinderella’s face was captured by her wide-eyed and twitchy nerdIness. But wouldn’t you have the same look after having been smacked in the gut repeatedly by some slimy jerk in the streets?
Did you remember that moment, enthralled, a segment of time which was undefined and limitless? Did you remember when it was only framed by the white lines, something or another which captured your last ounce of happiness, an image imprinted, engraved in your mind? Did you wonder, maybe, who was behind the lens?
Take my heart, scrape it, clench it in your hands,
I am weak clay in them,
I am just mud if left alone.
Shape me in an image, capture your thoughts,
I am tangible, I am real if you make me so.
So create me, I will be your masterpiece,
Your flesh statue that breathes.
Mara
First thing that popped in my mind is that Blondie song. You know, which Alicia Keys revived for some movie. But I guess that’s Rapture, instead of Capture? Oh well.
Who would want to get caught in a landslide? Who would want to escape in reality? Capturing heights, delights
It was all she need to capture the beauty of the moment. Time stood still as she focused her sight and her lens on the magnificent scene before her.
If you knew my mind,
it would tell you what to do,
I never wanted to eat this mildew,
Ya captured me before I knew
and then my bread with a Jew
And now I eat the mildew,
In the morning dew….
she breathed in deeply. the moment was perfect – the sky was still, not a bird chirped and even the wind had died down. she aimed and clicked down the shutter.
ok, you’ve got it. my attention is yours. Everytime I try to talk to you, if anyone in the community comes up, you cut me off. It’s like you’re so afraid to gossip that you won’t even learn about pertinent information to you. sometimes peoples lives are messy and sometimes it’s going to matter to you, because as concerned as you are with gossip, I am just as concerned with judgementalism.
I want to capture your heart, to encase it in paper and let ink fill your veins
This is my story, my own soul splayed out on the operation table. Here are the tools, break it open in anyway you want to. You’re the one in charge.
My character is but your eyes, but my character was not made for you. He was meant to live and breathe in the pages, and there he stays.
Though if what he learned fills you, then I’ve done my job.
The stale smell of illness lingered in the room. Patients moaned in restless sleep, hacking coughs captured in their chests. Somewhere close by, the pungent scent of herbal medicine cut through the stagnant air. All of of this by itself was bad enough, but as soon as I looked at the shrouded figures in each bed, I instantly wished I had not.
Cages. Not real ones. Ones made of trees and buildings. Of grass and concrete. No escape. No escape. Chasing, cornering, hunting, running, hiding. I tried. I did. They keep coming. Fear, paranoia, destiny. I’m trapped.
If you knew my mind,
it would tell you what to do,
I never wanted to see this mildew,
You captured me before I knew
but you broke bread with a Jew
And now I eat my mildew,
In the morning dew….
I can capture the moment with a camera, or a sentence. I am a master of capturing the moment, just you see. I adore the ebb and flow of life, and all that.
A memorizing scene when riding the bus I hear screams.
A moment in time stops and the surroundings are captured.
I turn to see what was such a fuss, and see a rapture.
The earth was cracking and we were all panic attacking.
We are at the end of our existence.
Praying our lives be spared, and knowing how it is so unfair.
Our families alone. Not knowing what had happened.
We sunk into the earth with speed and no traction.
Finally it ends with all our skulls cracking.
The earth’s revolving now speeds backward.
Lives flash before our eyes while it’s happening.
We die knowing where our souls will be happily.
We tend to capture images and photographs with our cameras. But how often do we actually capture them into our heads? How often, do we actually keep the essence of such moments after time has passed on… Life just goes by, as people do, and all we have is a moment, the present, although it could have been a lot more difficult when we relate to the past. If only we can capture every beautiful fragments in life…
I like to capture beautiful photos. Photos of sunsets and beaches. Photos of expression.
Like a wild hare, she will be snared. Captured in as much of my eye as my camera. Though she shall dare to flee, there’s no where I won’t be, and no where she can hide from my rapture.
He is captured in her rapture – no escape without fracture.
My attention span is the hardest thing to capture. I’ll listen to you for ten, fifteen, thirty minutes, but the moment the conversation turns to the doldrums…I’m gone. Maybe i’ll come back, but that will only be to capture your attention
Capture re-capture. It’s what we do when we know that there is absolutly no way we can control the forces of nature. SO we try to count it instead.
I love it when a book is captivating, when you’re captured by the story. It can hold your imagination captive and show you things you wouldn’t have otherwise seen. I guess all authors want that power, but only the good ones are given it by their readers.
His face was just perfect, Annie had to capture it forever. She looked through the viewfinder. He never noticed the girl with the old fashioned camera as she clicked the shutter switch and smiled to herself.
moments frozen in time, time that drags with each seconds and rolls over into minutes into hours and days. until weeks have gone by and moments flash past and even with the biggest hands it’s impossible to snatch them up and keep.
i capture your mind and into the word you must eat our heart and die without second flavor or emotion. The word is our bond to the limitless possibilities of flight and god. The hard drive captures death into our minds, and birds do sleep and weep. Keep the feet here and there, everywhere. You must die in death and dying. Quit your sleeping old man. Capture the birds. Capture his mind, capture his fate, and capture your true self.
He’d captured her heart. Every crack that the rest had left, his love filled and she could not imagine spending the rest of her life with anyone else.
Capture a fleeting thought by writing it down. I’m trying, I really am, but sometimes if I write things down, it realizes things that I can’t seem to face. I try to capture the essence of my life as it is now, but my hands can’t seem to grasp it.
i would like to capture a turtle and put it in my bathroom tub.Also, the capture needs to be exciting and something adventures to me. i would ALso like to capture a horse and put i
the image captured in my mind. like a bullet from a gun fired at high speed, and shot from a long point of view. The capture hurt the image craved into my mind so suddenly. like a bullet, the image captured.
She struggled, tears streaming down her cheeks and blood making her hand sticky and slick at the same time, but they would not release her. She fought and fought, trying to run when finally the blood caused her hands to slip free of the rope and she ran. She ran as fast as she could, as fast as the wind, but a single crack broke the air and left her cold.
Capture means to take by force or to take prisoner. In books and television shows, allies of one’s enemy are often captured.
I captured a monkey the other day. It yelled and screamed and I felt sad. IT was sad. Anyways, capture reminds me of rapture. I’m trying to capture my thoughts right now and I can’t. I’m trapped. My mind is trapped how the hell am I supposed to write and think?
There is a moment, when you can take it all back. There is a moment — not a long moment, but it is there, and it is always there — when you stand on the precipice of decision, and any one action can send you tipping one way or another.
Capture her heart. Rule the world. Grab her and drag her into the darkness where water ripples and moonlight bathes the soul. She’ll be mine. All mine.
I was captured immediately by the surprised look in your eyes when you first saw me. It was simply captivating, your smile, pearly and honest, your eyes, deep and quiet and your lips, full and pink.
The artist grips the pencil in a clenched fist. Useless. Trash. Garbage. Destroy it.
For so long, for so looong, he has worked night and day to draw her likeness. From memory. That one glimpse of her angelic face and he was smitten, and the next second committed to a personal vow that he would capture her beautiful visage on paper. But alas, mere graphite and sheets of white paper do not do her justice. The old man sighs, crumples the failure, and begins again. This time, he will certainly achieve a masterpiece worthy to be called the spitting image of her.
“she disappeared yesterday, right?”
“really? i haven’t heard.”
“it was the usual crime.” her voice was hushed, almost as if she was imparting a terrible secret. “she had it, you know? the-” she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “well, it’s a shame.”
he shook his head in dismay. “the list just keeps getting longer.”
“well, what do you expect? she deserved everything she got.”
“did she?” he paused. “does anyone ever get what they deserve?”
“it doesn’t matter either way. she’s gone now, and that’s the end of it. there’s no point in talking about it.”
“she was your best friend, wasn’t she?”
“like i said, it doesn’t matter.” she sighed. “she was just one from a litany of souls. one from a list of people that no longer exist.”
She runs, hoping to escape. He chases, hoping to capture, to ensare, to seize. If only, if only she had longer legs and even much more stamina. But alas, she trips, falls, splatters her face on the wet earth. He has caught up to her, smirking beneath his hood. Dear God, no…
Immediately, he reaches down and grips her by the wrist, hauling her up to her knees.
“My dear, you didn’t possibly think you could escape me, did you?” That smirk..
Sweet Jesus… She knew.. he was to return her to Hell…
Sometimes I wish I could capture your face when you laugh. I know for sure that if you saw it, you would realize how much you are truly worth. I guess you have a slight idea but there is no real amount.
We capture small children every day. Some are black and some are white. Some are skinny and some are fat. The fat ones are good for cannon fodder. We put them in the tanks and wheel them onto the field.
People say we’re sick, but we know there’s a war to be won. The adults won’t fight. We need the children. They have the passion in their hearts. But then someone calls me devil and I don’t understand why. Am I devil? Or am I messiah for making these kids fight for the cause?
Gone from the scene like a mad clown who ran out of face paint, Cinderella’s face was captured by her wide-eyed and twitchy nerdIness. But wouldn’t you have the same look after having been smacked in the gut repeatedly by some slimy jerk in the streets?
Did you remember that moment, enthralled, a segment of time which was undefined and limitless? Did you remember when it was only framed by the white lines, something or another which captured your last ounce of happiness, an image imprinted, engraved in your mind? Did you wonder, maybe, who was behind the lens?
Take my heart, scrape it, clench it in your hands,
I am weak clay in them,
I am just mud if left alone.
Shape me in an image, capture your thoughts,
I am tangible, I am real if you make me so.
So create me, I will be your masterpiece,
Your flesh statue that breathes.
First thing that popped in my mind is that Blondie song. You know, which Alicia Keys revived for some movie. But I guess that’s Rapture, instead of Capture? Oh well.
Who would want to get caught in a landslide? Who would want to escape in reality? Capturing heights, delights
Capture Rapture Laughter After