everyone has a collection, whether its books, comic books, clothes or anything. we all feel the need to hoard anything, so thats how a collection is made. i have a bunch of collections myself, including movie ticket collections, books on my own bookshelf, or other things. they give you a sense of accomplishment and a,’whoa look at that’ kind of feeling
Diana
a collection of useless things that I don’t have a clue as to what to do. what purpose do they serve if any. Since I don’t know seems liked I should throw them away. why do I hold on to them will I ever use them or will th
Jacqui
I keep an collection of a few things . Most of the things I enjoy are put away into collections inside of my home. Music is probably one of my most valued collectibles . Its timeless in so many ways .
Demetrice Doss
It’s sad to think I can just pack up
Just leave with my collection of trinkets,
memories.
That’s all they’ll ever be.
This is the end here.
I will leave you all behind.
Au revoir.
Arrivederci.
Auf Wiedersehen.
Goodbye.
All you can ever be
is my memories,
packed into one little suitcase,
left in a box on the shelf,
blown away with the dust.
It was a collection of cells. How was she supposed to know? She didn’t think anything would happen, nor that anything could. It was simply a collection of cells, she reminded herself. The doctor spoke almost in slow motion: “Are you ready? Remember, you can’t go back on an abortion.”
Maya Celeste
I look around at this collection of clothes and trinkets and books and I wonder why I’ve carted it here, to this hotel, down the street from where I used to live. For love? For foolishness? In any case, wake up boy.
One day, I collected a bunch of thumbs. They were my special treasures. I dressed them up and made a little house for them. They had been liberated from their previous owners, and were now free to live their lives. One I called Suzy and another I called derek. They were my only fr
Christine M.
Of rocks;
small, long, oblong, sharp,
pointy, Dull.
Dangerous
I am among them.
shiny,
deliberate
dangerous.
Death collected my dog today.
He’s lying on a blanket, shaved hiney covered and eyes half open.
I wish we could have given him more, but all I can think of is
he was still so warm.
tenho uma coleção de palavras que jamais poderão ser ditas. palavras sem destinatários. palavras mortas antes mesmo de nascerem. palavras que agigantam o abismo.
Among the myriad of things I collect, I have found that my friends have been the weirdest and greatest items in my collection of perfect memories.
Ginger
a nexus of light, dreams, collaborations of mind and soul all put into one universal singularity of glory and creativity, the dust on the shelves of the conscious, the ornaments of human conditions.
AyeAye12
Of rocks;
smell, long, oblong
dangerous
I am among them.
shiny,
deliberate
dangerous
collection! how can it be? i already wrote about collection. again? again? i thought it was one word a day. yet this is a new day, a new dawn? maybe i’m mistaken, maybe someone is in a different time zone than me, maybe all kinds of things. there is so much unkown in this world and so much that is assumed. and so much taken for granted. have you notice?
Theresa
There used to be a collection of items in the drawer. Nobody knew what the items were, just that they were there. They’ve been there ever since 1952, sitting in that chest for such a long time… He found them on a silent afternoon and his life changed. It changed, like a metamorphosis.
Momchil Aleksandrov
the collector prizes his collection, like some men prize their spouses. too much collecting and not enough loving. her clothes came from the highly respected designer collection in paris but her soul was so lost and broken. she need to collect her collection again and start over.
Judy
I have a collecton of photographs that I keep in a little memory box. To me, they are precious memories that I never, ever, want to lose. Pictures of my grandparents, of my sister’s and I as babies… I see love when I look at these pictures.
Melissa
I love my new colletcion of dresses. I’ve got blue one – that’s will be perfect! I schoud wear it on my birthday party! People will be suprised! I hope it…
Wirgi
a collection can be of anything , games , music , movies etc. collecting items are hobbies for many people . you can collect anything and give it a name as your collection:)
Ali
of vinyl records by artists from the 60’s. like the beatles, pink floyd, led zep, grateful dead etc. evergreen music, the way it was intended!
sarthak
The thing necessary for those who have no money. The beggars on the street need it to survive. They need to collect, they need your generosity, yet you ignore them as you pass them by. Out of a whim, you can’t afford to spare your change to the mediocrity of society, lest the mediocrity be turned on you.
Candi
As I sit here, pondering upon my existence all I can think about is how death is currently on his rounds collecting. Collecting up the souls of the people that are perishing around the world and taking them where they need to go, ferrying them off to either the blissful fields of heaven or the burning pits of hell; if you believe in all that.
Candi
sons of god party!
messiahs, bring a friend
preferably ones who will not betray you
Collection of memories is something people keep so they won’t grow old and died somebody who’s easily forgotten or missing. It’s good to keep one, try, you’ll never regret taking some pressure off of your brain.
Summer
I once had a collection of marbles. Nothing too interesting, I know. But they were mine. Collecting them gave me a purpose. Every week, I would take my few pennys pocket money and run to the local newsagents and buy a new one. I had few friends and so in a sad, pathetic way, the marbles became my friends. I don’t mean to say that I talked to them.or anything; but just the fact that I could spend hours on a Saturday arranging them in height order, then size, then colour, gave me some sort of a purpose.It kept me from remembering that I had no friends.
Lyndsay Norton
The collection was astounding. Butterflies of all sizes, all colours, all shapes. In endless, frozen slumber they lay, poised for flight that would never come,
KellyH
The garbage collection was two weeks late now and the dogs had drag some of the bags all over the place. It was a health risk staying the apartment, and we decided to stay with our parents until things got better.
Me gusta coleccionar. Entre todas las cosas que colecciono se enuentran las cosas con la bandera de inglaterra. Tengo muchas cosas con esa bandera. Es re loco como la fisuración te puede llevar tan lejos. Tan lejos como para conseguir más de 15 cosas con lo mismo. Tan lejos como para idolatrar tal país.
Sophie
My collection of books in my small library comprise a range of old and new books. More than half of them are to be read by me. Although I don’t have enough time nowadays but surely will finish all the books in my collection by this year.
raihan
I think I collect notebooks. I didn’t mean to do it. I just happen to buy notebooks and end up never writing on them like I promise to at the time of purchase. I envisioned writing sonnets and essays in the small, leather-bound notebook. I imagined the kind of doodles and sketches I’d make in the kitschy, girly one. An illustrated diary of my life so far in the red velvet one. What happens instead is that they all get stacked in a corner of my room. A couple of them have already had a few pages vandalized from attempts to be true to my word. Most are blank and somehow I like it better that way. Like the white expanse of unmarred paper is enough. Maybe it is. In the space is the potential of masterpieces that I could create from the graphite and ink that seeps from my fingertips and I am content already in this theoretical accomplishment.
this is where the past falls. this is the place we all have where everything we’ve ever lost is found. a beach where every tide washes up memories and the sound is all familiar. this is the place of relaxation and not regret, this is where you know what you lived for. here is how you know you made a mark, and every mark that was ever made on you is clear. this is how you know you lived.
Emily
I have a collection of dried flowers in the second drawer beside my bed. Every time I am given flowers I take one of them and dry them. It’s as if I’m drying the memory and saving it forever. Every flower has a story. The people that have given me these flowers are special. Some flowers come with an occasion, some are “just because”. Many of the dried flowers in my bed side drawer were given to me by my ex boyfriend of seven months who broke up with me 6 days ago. I miss him more than anything in the world. I want him back. One of the flowers in my drawer was given to me by my grandmother, she gave me my first bouquet of flowers for my sixteenth birthday two years ago. She passed away last night. Life isn’t fair, but I’m hoping if I keep moving forward it will get better.
Jaimy Waterhouse
A collection of toys, left on a shelf. They’re gathering dust, sitting there for years. Some of them wish they’d just been thrown away, but now they’re here, waiting. It’s dark, because light only streams under the door in when someone walks by and hits the switch outside their room.
Ted
inside of me:
there is a collection of bruises
and pale lips bitten raw,
a collection of whimpers
and crescent-shaped imprints on my palms.
once there was a catchbasin of salty tears and
a river murmuring all of the world’s regrets
as it spilled and slipped past my fingers
reminding me that i could never hold it all
( though that’s not saying that i didn’t /try/ )
skin blotched with iodine and littered with bandages,
hair frizzing up, as if holding onto the wind like a lifeline,
worn-out shoes and worn-out sighs;
what else is there to expect?
there is nothing to treasure
when the patina’s self-inflicted
because gold and sadness aren’t weighed on the same scale
( i am not golden; i am not a fragile feather; i am a quivering wisp of dying smoke )
F
collecting the sensations of tonight’s,
lonliness,
distracted,
by the change,
in songs,
self-loathing,
in the analytical collection,
of tonight’s sensations.
collection,
revenue,
absolution in,
presidential,
solitutde.
isolation in,
manifestation,
maliable,
with satisfaction,
and gratification.
Youthnoble
My collection of thoughts weren’t exactly organised. They ran rampant in my head. During the day of course, because I was such a daydreamer, but mainly at night- because I didn’t dream then. I laid awake thinking, my collection of thoughts swimming fruitlessly through the paths of my mind.
The hallway seemed to go on forever. Door after door. It seemed to never end. She would look down and take several steps, look up again only to see… another door. It was as if someone had decided to make a collection of doors in the middle of the building, just to taunt all those who were actually trying to get to someplace on time.
everyone has a collection, whether its books, comic books, clothes or anything. we all feel the need to hoard anything, so thats how a collection is made. i have a bunch of collections myself, including movie ticket collections, books on my own bookshelf, or other things. they give you a sense of accomplishment and a,’whoa look at that’ kind of feeling
a collection of useless things that I don’t have a clue as to what to do. what purpose do they serve if any. Since I don’t know seems liked I should throw them away. why do I hold on to them will I ever use them or will th
I keep an collection of a few things . Most of the things I enjoy are put away into collections inside of my home. Music is probably one of my most valued collectibles . Its timeless in so many ways .
It’s sad to think I can just pack up
Just leave with my collection of trinkets,
memories.
That’s all they’ll ever be.
This is the end here.
I will leave you all behind.
Au revoir.
Arrivederci.
Auf Wiedersehen.
Goodbye.
All you can ever be
is my memories,
packed into one little suitcase,
left in a box on the shelf,
blown away with the dust.
It was a collection of cells. How was she supposed to know? She didn’t think anything would happen, nor that anything could. It was simply a collection of cells, she reminded herself. The doctor spoke almost in slow motion: “Are you ready? Remember, you can’t go back on an abortion.”
I look around at this collection of clothes and trinkets and books and I wonder why I’ve carted it here, to this hotel, down the street from where I used to live. For love? For foolishness? In any case, wake up boy.
One day, I collected a bunch of thumbs. They were my special treasures. I dressed them up and made a little house for them. They had been liberated from their previous owners, and were now free to live their lives. One I called Suzy and another I called derek. They were my only fr
Of rocks;
small, long, oblong, sharp,
pointy, Dull.
Dangerous
I am among them.
shiny,
deliberate
dangerous.
Death collected my dog today.
He’s lying on a blanket, shaved hiney covered and eyes half open.
I wish we could have given him more, but all I can think of is
he was still so warm.
tenho uma coleção de palavras que jamais poderão ser ditas. palavras sem destinatários. palavras mortas antes mesmo de nascerem. palavras que agigantam o abismo.
Among the myriad of things I collect, I have found that my friends have been the weirdest and greatest items in my collection of perfect memories.
a nexus of light, dreams, collaborations of mind and soul all put into one universal singularity of glory and creativity, the dust on the shelves of the conscious, the ornaments of human conditions.
Of rocks;
smell, long, oblong
dangerous
I am among them.
shiny,
deliberate
dangerous
And one day, he’d own everything.
collection! how can it be? i already wrote about collection. again? again? i thought it was one word a day. yet this is a new day, a new dawn? maybe i’m mistaken, maybe someone is in a different time zone than me, maybe all kinds of things. there is so much unkown in this world and so much that is assumed. and so much taken for granted. have you notice?
There used to be a collection of items in the drawer. Nobody knew what the items were, just that they were there. They’ve been there ever since 1952, sitting in that chest for such a long time… He found them on a silent afternoon and his life changed. It changed, like a metamorphosis.
the collector prizes his collection, like some men prize their spouses. too much collecting and not enough loving. her clothes came from the highly respected designer collection in paris but her soul was so lost and broken. she need to collect her collection again and start over.
I have a collecton of photographs that I keep in a little memory box. To me, they are precious memories that I never, ever, want to lose. Pictures of my grandparents, of my sister’s and I as babies… I see love when I look at these pictures.
I love my new colletcion of dresses. I’ve got blue one – that’s will be perfect! I schoud wear it on my birthday party! People will be suprised! I hope it…
a collection can be of anything , games , music , movies etc. collecting items are hobbies for many people . you can collect anything and give it a name as your collection:)
of vinyl records by artists from the 60’s. like the beatles, pink floyd, led zep, grateful dead etc. evergreen music, the way it was intended!
The thing necessary for those who have no money. The beggars on the street need it to survive. They need to collect, they need your generosity, yet you ignore them as you pass them by. Out of a whim, you can’t afford to spare your change to the mediocrity of society, lest the mediocrity be turned on you.
As I sit here, pondering upon my existence all I can think about is how death is currently on his rounds collecting. Collecting up the souls of the people that are perishing around the world and taking them where they need to go, ferrying them off to either the blissful fields of heaven or the burning pits of hell; if you believe in all that.
sons of god party!
messiahs, bring a friend
preferably ones who will not betray you
I scanned my collection of books looking for one that piqued my interest. Vampires? No. Werewolves? No. Zombies? Maybe. Zombie squirrels? Yes!
Collection of memories is something people keep so they won’t grow old and died somebody who’s easily forgotten or missing. It’s good to keep one, try, you’ll never regret taking some pressure off of your brain.
I once had a collection of marbles. Nothing too interesting, I know. But they were mine. Collecting them gave me a purpose. Every week, I would take my few pennys pocket money and run to the local newsagents and buy a new one. I had few friends and so in a sad, pathetic way, the marbles became my friends. I don’t mean to say that I talked to them.or anything; but just the fact that I could spend hours on a Saturday arranging them in height order, then size, then colour, gave me some sort of a purpose.It kept me from remembering that I had no friends.
The collection was astounding. Butterflies of all sizes, all colours, all shapes. In endless, frozen slumber they lay, poised for flight that would never come,
The garbage collection was two weeks late now and the dogs had drag some of the bags all over the place. It was a health risk staying the apartment, and we decided to stay with our parents until things got better.
Me gusta coleccionar. Entre todas las cosas que colecciono se enuentran las cosas con la bandera de inglaterra. Tengo muchas cosas con esa bandera. Es re loco como la fisuración te puede llevar tan lejos. Tan lejos como para conseguir más de 15 cosas con lo mismo. Tan lejos como para idolatrar tal país.
My collection of books in my small library comprise a range of old and new books. More than half of them are to be read by me. Although I don’t have enough time nowadays but surely will finish all the books in my collection by this year.
I think I collect notebooks. I didn’t mean to do it. I just happen to buy notebooks and end up never writing on them like I promise to at the time of purchase. I envisioned writing sonnets and essays in the small, leather-bound notebook. I imagined the kind of doodles and sketches I’d make in the kitschy, girly one. An illustrated diary of my life so far in the red velvet one. What happens instead is that they all get stacked in a corner of my room. A couple of them have already had a few pages vandalized from attempts to be true to my word. Most are blank and somehow I like it better that way. Like the white expanse of unmarred paper is enough. Maybe it is. In the space is the potential of masterpieces that I could create from the graphite and ink that seeps from my fingertips and I am content already in this theoretical accomplishment.
this is where the past falls. this is the place we all have where everything we’ve ever lost is found. a beach where every tide washes up memories and the sound is all familiar. this is the place of relaxation and not regret, this is where you know what you lived for. here is how you know you made a mark, and every mark that was ever made on you is clear. this is how you know you lived.
I have a collection of dried flowers in the second drawer beside my bed. Every time I am given flowers I take one of them and dry them. It’s as if I’m drying the memory and saving it forever. Every flower has a story. The people that have given me these flowers are special. Some flowers come with an occasion, some are “just because”. Many of the dried flowers in my bed side drawer were given to me by my ex boyfriend of seven months who broke up with me 6 days ago. I miss him more than anything in the world. I want him back. One of the flowers in my drawer was given to me by my grandmother, she gave me my first bouquet of flowers for my sixteenth birthday two years ago. She passed away last night. Life isn’t fair, but I’m hoping if I keep moving forward it will get better.
A collection of toys, left on a shelf. They’re gathering dust, sitting there for years. Some of them wish they’d just been thrown away, but now they’re here, waiting. It’s dark, because light only streams under the door in when someone walks by and hits the switch outside their room.
inside of me:
there is a collection of bruises
and pale lips bitten raw,
a collection of whimpers
and crescent-shaped imprints on my palms.
once there was a catchbasin of salty tears and
a river murmuring all of the world’s regrets
as it spilled and slipped past my fingers
reminding me that i could never hold it all
( though that’s not saying that i didn’t /try/ )
skin blotched with iodine and littered with bandages,
hair frizzing up, as if holding onto the wind like a lifeline,
worn-out shoes and worn-out sighs;
what else is there to expect?
there is nothing to treasure
when the patina’s self-inflicted
because gold and sadness aren’t weighed on the same scale
( i am not golden; i am not a fragile feather; i am a quivering wisp of dying smoke )
collecting the sensations of tonight’s,
lonliness,
distracted,
by the change,
in songs,
self-loathing,
in the analytical collection,
of tonight’s sensations.
collection,
revenue,
absolution in,
presidential,
solitutde.
isolation in,
manifestation,
maliable,
with satisfaction,
and gratification.
My collection of thoughts weren’t exactly organised. They ran rampant in my head. During the day of course, because I was such a daydreamer, but mainly at night- because I didn’t dream then. I laid awake thinking, my collection of thoughts swimming fruitlessly through the paths of my mind.
The hallway seemed to go on forever. Door after door. It seemed to never end. She would look down and take several steps, look up again only to see… another door. It was as if someone had decided to make a collection of doors in the middle of the building, just to taunt all those who were actually trying to get to someplace on time.