i think i supposed to think of a vase. filled with flowers and ribbons or fruit and twigs. And how clean our white plates are between us. but i can’t ignore this other centerpiece between us. Its like how spoons hug each other in utensil drawers and forks get tangled in each other. I keep having to break up with you and you won’t let me. I keep breaking the vase between us. I’m trying to stop the dishes from getting dirty. But you like how tape looks along cracks. you make it easier for me to break each time. it repeats like shampoo. I’m just trying to rinse myself of you. I’m trying to take away the centerpiece between us , so I’m not feeling like this should be so formal. i want paper plates and sitting on the same side of the table. But you like it when all I’m eating with is knives. i can only cut my food for so long. This has been between us for so long.
Thanksgiving day, and I know she was trying. She tries real hard. Its just not in the way most would expect, or think is “right.” But nevermind the lack of thanksgiving food or a spotless house.
No, forget that. Because the centerpiece was perfect. Her obsessive-compulsive mind made sure of it.
Grace
Centerpiece. Is a piece in the center.
You are the centerpiece of my life.
All eyes are focused on you.
Lovely, lovely, lovely, you.
Too bad you can break.
Any minute.
Any minute
The centerpiece looked beautiful. It really tied the whole house together. I really didn’t love it, but since it was from my mother, I keep it. It always reminds me of her.
fnwklfnewiof
it sits in the middle of the glittering gold ornaments, the crystal wineglasses, and the fancy silver dishes, clearly the centerpiece of the table: his severed head, still dripping blood from the neck onto the cream tablecloth.
you are my centerpiece.
he was my everything. i’d known him since the moment i was born so i couldn’t even focus on my life with out him. He was the reason i breathed. he was the reason i was me. i loved him. i always had. and now that he had left me i was a mess. the only way i can put it.
Emmy
It’s in between the people sitting at the table. I have to stretch my neck to the side to see Sarah who is on the other side of the centrepiece. Made out of plastic, it’s a massive bouquet.
Brad Buie
Walking into the room, i realized that this wasn’t going to be like any other home. Nothing matched. The furniture was all different from one another and the carpets were stained. The thing is though is that it all looked okay together. It was kind of a reflection of this old lady’s mind. But the one thing that really stood out to me was the slightly creepy dalmation statue in the middle of the room. What an odd centerpiece to have. And oh, so stereotypical. The strange old lady with the creepy dalmation statue in her living room? This kind of things usually only comes up in old paperback novels.
The simple idea of centrepiecing was that which he had proven to neglect. You have to choose and put one dead centre right in the middle. If you fail too then they lose interest in you as much as they already have in themselves.
Daniel Siracusa
The centerpiece of the Christmas table was one of those wooden sculptures that had candles on top, and the candles someone made use of physics and made the whole thing spin. When the lights were turned off, the shadows of the candles created intricate designs on the walls and ceiling.
On the table in the group home is a centerpiece. It changes every so often. Nothing fancy, but something personal. When we all sit around the table and try to make time of our time, one can always comment on the centerpiece. It’s something small, but any way to common ground between people is all that is needed.
there’s a centerpiece on the floor. how’d it get there?
I know how.
there’s a way to the attic. how can i get there?
you know how.
there’s an end to this relationship. how did we get here?
they know how.
it’s something to think about, when your whole world has been turned upside down and your face stares foreign back at you.
don’t leave me, but i never want to see you again.
For once, I had a centerpiece for the Thanksgiving table. My mother-in-law gave me a beautiful pressed glass basket for my birthday. I filled it with silk autumn leaves, flowers and butterflies. Very pretty, even though it could have used a couple focus flowers. Definitely a step in the right direction.
which should be the thing that hangs in the middle of my room. i didn’t know, and so i cut open my chest and took out my heart, and placed it their on the wall, in a hook. people come around, but they don’t say much about it–except the children run away when i water my plants, they say, i’ve lost my head, but really ? i’ve lost my heart.
It looked all wrong. There, right in the middle. It looked wrong.
Maybe it was because he was English. Did American styles not appeal to him after all? That was probably it.
With a quick flourish he changed the offending part, swapping it with the one next to it.
There we go.
“Centrepiece”.
He smiled to himself. He was the only one that had noticed.
It’s difficult to find a centerpiece to my life. I know what it should be, but the battle over what I want it to be is unending. Sometimes you have to choose what’s best in the long run, I suppose.
You are the centerpiece of the stage: the bright spotlight is upon you, and the audience, spitting and hissing like snakes attracted to the flesh of mice, expect you to do as you’re told–or else the world will devour you.
During thanksgiving I sat down at the table and was looking right at a huge centerpiece. It had leaves and fruit all around it. It looked very colorful and it really brightened up the table.
Dean Podaras
As I stood in the doorway of my parents home I realized the centerpiece on the table. It was the little Turkey that I had made when I was really small.
I placed the centerpiece on the table and the decorating was complete. I was so excited for the arrival of my family to my own house. The first house you buy is certainly memorable.
Jamie
As the centerpiece took it proper place amongst the other treasures.
He lay across the centerpiece. Blood dripping slowly off the white table cloth onto the floorboards beneath. Jeremy entered the room the gun still hot in his hand from the last shot.
Getomonk
The centerpiece was stunning. I found myself looking at it and transitioning into a deep sense of wonder. What did the color represent? Love? Hate? Peace? Why did the centerpiece do this to me? I couldn’t understand where my head was going, it was as if I had lost my head entirely.
Tari
The centerpiece was a flower. One single flower, pink with hints of yellow, orange, and red. It was a carnation, a flower which I remembered from past proms and father-daughter dances. I smiled and wondered when the flower would die.
sitting at the thanksgiving table, they all stared at the cornacopia. it was supposed to be beautiful, represent plenty, having it all. yet they each felt like they had nothing. like they were empty, even as they filled themselves up with turkey.
Madeline
The centerpiece was elegant and beautiful; it was everything it should be. The only thing I remember from that night was looking at that centerpiece thinking, “Why can’t the world be as lovely as this?”
In the middle of their lives is one thing. One special thing that they both hold prized above all things. Love. Love is their centerpiece, and they let that guide them in their budding relationship.
NCISaddict
The centerpiece is nothing more and nothing less than a distraction from the infalliable interconnectedness of us all. An atempt, to distract from everyone else. Life is the centerpiece and we are a part of it, but we are not it.
The necktie in the bosom. A picture frame on a mantle. Crystal within a brooch. The thing your eye is drawn to. The thing that holds your gaze. The nose should be the centerpiece of the face, but instead it’s the gaze. Defiant angles and shapes. Geometrical rebellion. The lips pursed and try to upstage. They are successful.
Belinda Roddie
I am the centerpiece of my life. No one else can be or do the things the way I do in my life. I am not the centerpiece of the world though. That belongs to God and Jesus for they are they ones who created this world and forgives me for my sins.
From an idea spawns the mastery of work, the essence of creation; all encompassed in a single form: the centerpiece.
An incredible testimony to the thriving human mind, the beauty of imperfection and perceived perfection that makes us all moral human beings.
Kim
I haven’t been a lot of places but I can attest to the fact that I’ve seen some of the most beautiful centerpieces. One’s that range from the simple texture of color to ones that when you look at it your simple in awe of amazement. I’ve seen centerpieces match every decor, the only trick is too know when something is too much and when it’s not enough.
she stared at the centerpiece placed on the table in front of her. it doesn’t mean anything to her, it was something she first saw that day. however, it was all she needed to be reminded of their days together. she grabbed the ceramic figurine and, with all the force she could muster, hurled it towards the end of the room.
Revolving around one idea,
One thought,
One breath,
That everything can count on this,
The creation of this,
The existence of this,
All moving, spinning,
Trying to understand how could something could be so,
That if the middle were to fall,
The world would too.
i think i supposed to think of a vase. filled with flowers and ribbons or fruit and twigs. And how clean our white plates are between us. but i can’t ignore this other centerpiece between us. Its like how spoons hug each other in utensil drawers and forks get tangled in each other. I keep having to break up with you and you won’t let me. I keep breaking the vase between us. I’m trying to stop the dishes from getting dirty. But you like how tape looks along cracks. you make it easier for me to break each time. it repeats like shampoo. I’m just trying to rinse myself of you. I’m trying to take away the centerpiece between us , so I’m not feeling like this should be so formal. i want paper plates and sitting on the same side of the table. But you like it when all I’m eating with is knives. i can only cut my food for so long. This has been between us for so long.
The centerpiece was perfect, my mother thought.
Thanksgiving day, and I know she was trying. She tries real hard. Its just not in the way most would expect, or think is “right.” But nevermind the lack of thanksgiving food or a spotless house.
No, forget that. Because the centerpiece was perfect. Her obsessive-compulsive mind made sure of it.
Centerpiece. Is a piece in the center.
You are the centerpiece of my life.
All eyes are focused on you.
Lovely, lovely, lovely, you.
Too bad you can break.
Any minute.
Any minute
Check your centerpiece my friend.
There was great panic when Dave found out that his wife gave away the centerpiece he gave her last year. There was 4500. dollars hidden in it.
The centerpiece looked beautiful. It really tied the whole house together. I really didn’t love it, but since it was from my mother, I keep it. It always reminds me of her.
it sits in the middle of the glittering gold ornaments, the crystal wineglasses, and the fancy silver dishes, clearly the centerpiece of the table: his severed head, still dripping blood from the neck onto the cream tablecloth.
you are my centerpiece.
he was my everything. i’d known him since the moment i was born so i couldn’t even focus on my life with out him. He was the reason i breathed. he was the reason i was me. i loved him. i always had. and now that he had left me i was a mess. the only way i can put it.
It’s in between the people sitting at the table. I have to stretch my neck to the side to see Sarah who is on the other side of the centrepiece. Made out of plastic, it’s a massive bouquet.
Walking into the room, i realized that this wasn’t going to be like any other home. Nothing matched. The furniture was all different from one another and the carpets were stained. The thing is though is that it all looked okay together. It was kind of a reflection of this old lady’s mind. But the one thing that really stood out to me was the slightly creepy dalmation statue in the middle of the room. What an odd centerpiece to have. And oh, so stereotypical. The strange old lady with the creepy dalmation statue in her living room? This kind of things usually only comes up in old paperback novels.
The simple idea of centrepiecing was that which he had proven to neglect. You have to choose and put one dead centre right in the middle. If you fail too then they lose interest in you as much as they already have in themselves.
The centerpiece of the Christmas table was one of those wooden sculptures that had candles on top, and the candles someone made use of physics and made the whole thing spin. When the lights were turned off, the shadows of the candles created intricate designs on the walls and ceiling.
She poured boiling water over the leaves and they blossomed into a strange urchin. Steam curled off the surface and smelled like rice and earth.
On the table in the group home is a centerpiece. It changes every so often. Nothing fancy, but something personal. When we all sit around the table and try to make time of our time, one can always comment on the centerpiece. It’s something small, but any way to common ground between people is all that is needed.
there’s a centerpiece on the floor. how’d it get there?
I know how.
there’s a way to the attic. how can i get there?
you know how.
there’s an end to this relationship. how did we get here?
they know how.
it’s something to think about, when your whole world has been turned upside down and your face stares foreign back at you.
don’t leave me, but i never want to see you again.
Centerpiece
For once, I had a centerpiece for the Thanksgiving table. My mother-in-law gave me a beautiful pressed glass basket for my birthday. I filled it with silk autumn leaves, flowers and butterflies. Very pretty, even though it could have used a couple focus flowers. Definitely a step in the right direction.
which should be the thing that hangs in the middle of my room. i didn’t know, and so i cut open my chest and took out my heart, and placed it their on the wall, in a hook. people come around, but they don’t say much about it–except the children run away when i water my plants, they say, i’ve lost my head, but really ? i’ve lost my heart.
It looked all wrong. There, right in the middle. It looked wrong.
Maybe it was because he was English. Did American styles not appeal to him after all? That was probably it.
With a quick flourish he changed the offending part, swapping it with the one next to it.
There we go.
“Centrepiece”.
He smiled to himself. He was the only one that had noticed.
It is the centerpiece of my life, casting a shadow accross the whole. Arms outstretched to to ends of the table. Even to Judas,
It’s difficult to find a centerpiece to my life. I know what it should be, but the battle over what I want it to be is unending. Sometimes you have to choose what’s best in the long run, I suppose.
You are the centerpiece of the stage: the bright spotlight is upon you, and the audience, spitting and hissing like snakes attracted to the flesh of mice, expect you to do as you’re told–or else the world will devour you.
During thanksgiving I sat down at the table and was looking right at a huge centerpiece. It had leaves and fruit all around it. It looked very colorful and it really brightened up the table.
As I stood in the doorway of my parents home I realized the centerpiece on the table. It was the little Turkey that I had made when I was really small.
I had a girl in my Oratory round that spoke about distractions.
It was funny how cell phones rang, disrespectful people were walking in and out, and people were playing with their hair during her speech.
It was just ironic how the distractions in our life keep us from doing what is really important.
She was the centerpiece, but no one was paying attention.
I placed the centerpiece on the table and the decorating was complete. I was so excited for the arrival of my family to my own house. The first house you buy is certainly memorable.
As the centerpiece took it proper place amongst the other treasures.
He lay across the centerpiece. Blood dripping slowly off the white table cloth onto the floorboards beneath. Jeremy entered the room the gun still hot in his hand from the last shot.
The centerpiece was stunning. I found myself looking at it and transitioning into a deep sense of wonder. What did the color represent? Love? Hate? Peace? Why did the centerpiece do this to me? I couldn’t understand where my head was going, it was as if I had lost my head entirely.
The centerpiece was a flower. One single flower, pink with hints of yellow, orange, and red. It was a carnation, a flower which I remembered from past proms and father-daughter dances. I smiled and wondered when the flower would die.
sitting at the thanksgiving table, they all stared at the cornacopia. it was supposed to be beautiful, represent plenty, having it all. yet they each felt like they had nothing. like they were empty, even as they filled themselves up with turkey.
The centerpiece was elegant and beautiful; it was everything it should be. The only thing I remember from that night was looking at that centerpiece thinking, “Why can’t the world be as lovely as this?”
In the middle of their lives is one thing. One special thing that they both hold prized above all things. Love. Love is their centerpiece, and they let that guide them in their budding relationship.
The centerpiece is nothing more and nothing less than a distraction from the infalliable interconnectedness of us all. An atempt, to distract from everyone else. Life is the centerpiece and we are a part of it, but we are not it.
The necktie in the bosom. A picture frame on a mantle. Crystal within a brooch. The thing your eye is drawn to. The thing that holds your gaze. The nose should be the centerpiece of the face, but instead it’s the gaze. Defiant angles and shapes. Geometrical rebellion. The lips pursed and try to upstage. They are successful.
I am the centerpiece of my life. No one else can be or do the things the way I do in my life. I am not the centerpiece of the world though. That belongs to God and Jesus for they are they ones who created this world and forgives me for my sins.
From an idea spawns the mastery of work, the essence of creation; all encompassed in a single form: the centerpiece.
An incredible testimony to the thriving human mind, the beauty of imperfection and perceived perfection that makes us all moral human beings.
I haven’t been a lot of places but I can attest to the fact that I’ve seen some of the most beautiful centerpieces. One’s that range from the simple texture of color to ones that when you look at it your simple in awe of amazement. I’ve seen centerpieces match every decor, the only trick is too know when something is too much and when it’s not enough.
she stared at the centerpiece placed on the table in front of her. it doesn’t mean anything to her, it was something she first saw that day. however, it was all she needed to be reminded of their days together. she grabbed the ceramic figurine and, with all the force she could muster, hurled it towards the end of the room.
Everyone seated at the table saw it. I wondered if they could tell that the centerpiece was my way of saying I intentionally show off.
Revolving around one idea,
One thought,
One breath,
That everything can count on this,
The creation of this,
The existence of this,
All moving, spinning,
Trying to understand how could something could be so,
That if the middle were to fall,
The world would too.