Wow, my brain is really sort of blank tonight, nothing at all crosses it. Perhaps I’ve killed the creative cells writing so much lately? How ironic! Or is it?
The cross can be a symbol of many things. For most, Christianity is the first thing that comes to mind. However, cross can be a verb as well as a symbol. For example, “I crossed the street.” Nifty, huh?
Anastasia
He hung there, suspended between flight and desperate falling. The cross dangled tediously from his neck. Smiling and laughing, he swung back and forth from the tree branch, as if daring fate to let him fall, to end his story right then.
These marks on my withered hands formed who I am today. These crosses and scars and deformities. Today, I made a difference. Today, I mattered.
Chad
jesus… hung on a cross. that’s waht i think of first. that evokes or is supposed to at least, evoke sadness pain and suffering.
i also think about crossing path.. like two lines that intersect but remain going on..
Lani
exfoliated by trinities. should it be orthdoxy or orthopraxy? i’m at a crossroads here, and there’s nothing i can do to save myself.
Alexandre
stitched between bricks, cell walls and electron clouds. a vibrating prism displayed in anachronism. coalesce cococoaglescegulasce coagulesteCOAGCOCOco coagulate.
Cross be damned, I’ll not stay here. All I can do is run, then. Run until the bleeding stops, run until my legs stop, run until their hearts starting beating again with someone else’s blood.
wellthatwasmelodramatic
it didn’t even cross my mind. not even for a milla second did I think I would get caught. being wrong has never felt like more of a surprise. we were caught.
Megan Bryant
We held hands as we stepped off the curb to cross the street. It was a warm April day and the kids were excited to venture out for the first time that Spring. Now I watch as my eldest takes his child’s hands and prepares to cross the street.
Heather
it was just a plain bridge.
“this is it?” I asked, disappointment tugging at my lips.
“yep.” he said. he offered no other explanation.
I looked again. Perhaps I overlooked something.
There it was. Almost a complete straight line across, with whereabouts unknown.
“So…” I tried again, looking at what was presumably his point. “Now what?”
Jack gestured toward weathered connection. “Now we cross.”
christine joy
Jesus was forced to carry the cross as he was lead to the site where he was to be crucified.A stranger helped carry it when he grew too weak to carry it any further. He died so that we may live with him and his Father in Heaven. He was the final sacrifice for all our sins.
the cross is the subject of so much pain
not so much pain for an imaginary god
I don’t mind that
a fictional tale wielded to control others
to cast guilt and doubt
now that
I mind
he was nailed to it. gives me strength to make it through all the hard times. a symbol. love, truth, existence. salvation, because of a man nailed to a cross.
allison billington
Her necklace was in the shape of a cross, that much I do recall about her. She lowered herself down, kissing me sensually, the golden cross pendant tickling my collar bone, yet all I could think of was the fact I had someone waiting for me at home. I pushed her away, picked up my dress from the floor, and left her small apartment. I finally realized what I had been missing was curled up in my bed, waiting for me.
the cross stands on the peak of the hill. it stares me down, menacingly. my pupils dilate as it penetrates the depths of my absent, depraved soul. all i can think, is Poland, 1900.
Why did the road kill the chicken? He double-crossed him! nevermind…
greggles
Cross the road safely, kids. Look both ways. Hold hands with someone above four feet in height, preferably. And don’t get hit by a car, those things are dangerous. Yeah. Be careful.
Emma
Man, this word really makes me mad. Its like I’m so cross. wow this just really gets to me, i think i’ll go jay walk to cross the street then make someone else mad. go for cross people! heck yea. :D
I keep my grandfather’s cross in my back pocket wherever I go. It is how I know that he is with me, even when I am alone and in darkness. He keeps me safe.
Unfortunately this has only been so since his passing. I don’t remember what he was like when he was alive at all.
Amelia
I get so damn cross when people push me.
Why push me, push yourself!
I’m no pushover. I just keep pulling through, and I don’t need someone else wondering if I’m going fast enough. Life is doubtful process, I just need you to let me follow this path, because it’s all I’ll ever have.
As she walked the lonely steets of her small town she began to remember what happened last year. The scenes of solders taking her family away played over and over in her mind as if it had just happened. She remembered how her parents had told her how much they loved her right before the hid her from the solders. She had prayed for them for three years but was beginning to lose hope. As she continued walking she looked up and saw the small black cross hanging in the window and she began to hope…
three stones sit there, out of place, in the dusty road. not quite pebbles, kicked up from the tires of leviathan trucks, and not quite large enough to be markers or to hold up an old rotting sign posts. those three, medium-sized rocks just keep on sitting in the cross in the road.
cyrus
criss cross apple sauce had enough of my dad as boss. in the end I’m depraved and lost. at such a cost to myself. at such a loss
John
A cross, a crucifix. Mine is still hanging, barely, on my tangled chain. I used to wear it every day. Now it’s snarled and thrown away somewhere in my room.
Set aside all allusions to the bible or disappointed parents. Criss cross-applesauce. The hand clap game. When the most confusing thing in life was to see if you could do it with your eyes closed.
I’m at a cross roads. I am standing there. My heart is beating faster faster faster. It almost leaps out of my chest. How can I love you so much? I didn’t think it was possible. But you will hurt me. They always do and I cant bare to lose you. You mean so much to me but it hurts being around you when I know you don’t feel the same way. So what do I do? Do I stay and suffer or walk away? I am at a cross roads.
The silver and white cross loomed large on the mountain. It was the only thing in site. She made her pilgramage there weekly with fresh flowers to say goodbye. He was gone for twenty-three years now. And she missed him still. He left her a long time ago.
Darlene Reilley
“You see this?” he retorted, lifting the cross on its chain. He let it swing in front of his face. “This is why I’m not scared of you.”
“A piece of metal,” Rask said drily.
“A shield,” he corrected.
Every Sunday morning i see Him. I see him staring down at me up on that cross. Pastor talks about all of his stories, all of his accomplishments, all of his love. I thank him everyday for what I stare up at him nailed to.
Why do people cross the street? Why did the chicken cross the road? Is there somewhere specific that people are crossing places to go to? Where do you have to cross to get to the place you love? Crossing the street can be a hard journey, but when you cross the street, will it be worth it?
I looked at the cross that I wore around my neck and wondered if it meant anything. Was I wearing it for myself or using it as a show for other people to perceive me differently. The cross made me feel like a better person. I felt like I could do the bad and be forgiven.
Darin
Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side.
Why did the orphan cross the road? To find his parents. (What parents?)
Why did the rooster cross the road? To prove he isn’t a chicken.
What do you call a chicken that crosses the road without looking both ways? Dead.
What do you call a person who actually spent time to read all of this? Bored.
I’d hang you from the ceiling with your suicidal grin still on your face. and that satisfaction you always seemed to radiate when you got what you wanted. arms spreading perpendicular wide, teeth showing off a white fan of knives.
Josh
The cross dangled from the thin gold chain that she always wore. I never saw her without that cross all the years we knew each other. Maybe her religion was this…be the best person she knew how to be and wear the cross as a sign of devotion. In her case, I think this was enough.
Wow, my brain is really sort of blank tonight, nothing at all crosses it. Perhaps I’ve killed the creative cells writing so much lately? How ironic! Or is it?
Twenty years ago
My path began.
Kinder garden and grade school
My path continued
And I always stopped
to pick flowers along the way
Middle school and High School
My path took many twists and turns
I often got turned around and confused
But I always found my way back
College was an uphill slope
The higher I rose
The harder the winds blew
Then my path got easier
I began to walk slower and notice the flowers again
Two months ago
your path was crossed mine
And I’ll never be the same.
well i already wrote about this one. i do not like the religious htings it evokes.
i ilike thinking about math.. and the ways lines cross.. each destined to a set destination unwavering in their path, although struck by another
Cross roads.
Cross roads.
Cross roads.
Cross roads.
Cross roads.
Cross roads.
Cross roads.
Cross roads.
Alone.
The cross can be a symbol of many things. For most, Christianity is the first thing that comes to mind. However, cross can be a verb as well as a symbol. For example, “I crossed the street.” Nifty, huh?
He hung there, suspended between flight and desperate falling. The cross dangled tediously from his neck. Smiling and laughing, he swung back and forth from the tree branch, as if daring fate to let him fall, to end his story right then.
These marks on my withered hands formed who I am today. These crosses and scars and deformities. Today, I made a difference. Today, I mattered.
jesus… hung on a cross. that’s waht i think of first. that evokes or is supposed to at least, evoke sadness pain and suffering.
i also think about crossing path.. like two lines that intersect but remain going on..
exfoliated by trinities. should it be orthdoxy or orthopraxy? i’m at a crossroads here, and there’s nothing i can do to save myself.
stitched between bricks, cell walls and electron clouds. a vibrating prism displayed in anachronism. coalesce cococoaglescegulasce coagulesteCOAGCOCOco coagulate.
Cross be damned, I’ll not stay here. All I can do is run, then. Run until the bleeding stops, run until my legs stop, run until their hearts starting beating again with someone else’s blood.
it didn’t even cross my mind. not even for a milla second did I think I would get caught. being wrong has never felt like more of a surprise. we were caught.
We held hands as we stepped off the curb to cross the street. It was a warm April day and the kids were excited to venture out for the first time that Spring. Now I watch as my eldest takes his child’s hands and prepares to cross the street.
it was just a plain bridge.
“this is it?” I asked, disappointment tugging at my lips.
“yep.” he said. he offered no other explanation.
I looked again. Perhaps I overlooked something.
There it was. Almost a complete straight line across, with whereabouts unknown.
“So…” I tried again, looking at what was presumably his point. “Now what?”
Jack gestured toward weathered connection. “Now we cross.”
Jesus was forced to carry the cross as he was lead to the site where he was to be crucified.A stranger helped carry it when he grew too weak to carry it any further. He died so that we may live with him and his Father in Heaven. He was the final sacrifice for all our sins.
the cross is the subject of so much pain
not so much pain for an imaginary god
I don’t mind that
a fictional tale wielded to control others
to cast guilt and doubt
now that
I mind
angry, religious symbol,
he was nailed to it. gives me strength to make it through all the hard times. a symbol. love, truth, existence. salvation, because of a man nailed to a cross.
Her necklace was in the shape of a cross, that much I do recall about her. She lowered herself down, kissing me sensually, the golden cross pendant tickling my collar bone, yet all I could think of was the fact I had someone waiting for me at home. I pushed her away, picked up my dress from the floor, and left her small apartment. I finally realized what I had been missing was curled up in my bed, waiting for me.
the cross stands on the peak of the hill. it stares me down, menacingly. my pupils dilate as it penetrates the depths of my absent, depraved soul. all i can think, is Poland, 1900.
Why did the road kill the chicken? He double-crossed him! nevermind…
Cross the road safely, kids. Look both ways. Hold hands with someone above four feet in height, preferably. And don’t get hit by a car, those things are dangerous. Yeah. Be careful.
Man, this word really makes me mad. Its like I’m so cross. wow this just really gets to me, i think i’ll go jay walk to cross the street then make someone else mad. go for cross people! heck yea. :D
I keep my grandfather’s cross in my back pocket wherever I go. It is how I know that he is with me, even when I am alone and in darkness. He keeps me safe.
Unfortunately this has only been so since his passing. I don’t remember what he was like when he was alive at all.
I get so damn cross when people push me.
Why push me, push yourself!
I’m no pushover. I just keep pulling through, and I don’t need someone else wondering if I’m going fast enough. Life is doubtful process, I just need you to let me follow this path, because it’s all I’ll ever have.
As she walked the lonely steets of her small town she began to remember what happened last year. The scenes of solders taking her family away played over and over in her mind as if it had just happened. She remembered how her parents had told her how much they loved her right before the hid her from the solders. She had prayed for them for three years but was beginning to lose hope. As she continued walking she looked up and saw the small black cross hanging in the window and she began to hope…
three stones sit there, out of place, in the dusty road. not quite pebbles, kicked up from the tires of leviathan trucks, and not quite large enough to be markers or to hold up an old rotting sign posts. those three, medium-sized rocks just keep on sitting in the cross in the road.
criss cross apple sauce had enough of my dad as boss. in the end I’m depraved and lost. at such a cost to myself. at such a loss
A cross, a crucifix. Mine is still hanging, barely, on my tangled chain. I used to wear it every day. Now it’s snarled and thrown away somewhere in my room.
Set aside all allusions to the bible or disappointed parents. Criss cross-applesauce. The hand clap game. When the most confusing thing in life was to see if you could do it with your eyes closed.
I’m at a cross roads. I am standing there. My heart is beating faster faster faster. It almost leaps out of my chest. How can I love you so much? I didn’t think it was possible. But you will hurt me. They always do and I cant bare to lose you. You mean so much to me but it hurts being around you when I know you don’t feel the same way. So what do I do? Do I stay and suffer or walk away? I am at a cross roads.
The silver and white cross loomed large on the mountain. It was the only thing in site. She made her pilgramage there weekly with fresh flowers to say goodbye. He was gone for twenty-three years now. And she missed him still. He left her a long time ago.
“You see this?” he retorted, lifting the cross on its chain. He let it swing in front of his face. “This is why I’m not scared of you.”
“A piece of metal,” Rask said drily.
“A shield,” he corrected.
Every Sunday morning i see Him. I see him staring down at me up on that cross. Pastor talks about all of his stories, all of his accomplishments, all of his love. I thank him everyday for what I stare up at him nailed to.
Why do people cross the street? Why did the chicken cross the road? Is there somewhere specific that people are crossing places to go to? Where do you have to cross to get to the place you love? Crossing the street can be a hard journey, but when you cross the street, will it be worth it?
jesus death crusifiction tattoo justification life salvation happiness christ grafitti thankfull peace love sacrifice
I looked at the cross that I wore around my neck and wondered if it meant anything. Was I wearing it for myself or using it as a show for other people to perceive me differently. The cross made me feel like a better person. I felt like I could do the bad and be forgiven.
Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side.
Why did the orphan cross the road? To find his parents. (What parents?)
Why did the rooster cross the road? To prove he isn’t a chicken.
What do you call a chicken that crosses the road without looking both ways? Dead.
What do you call a person who actually spent time to read all of this? Bored.
I’d hang you from the ceiling with your suicidal grin still on your face. and that satisfaction you always seemed to radiate when you got what you wanted. arms spreading perpendicular wide, teeth showing off a white fan of knives.
The cross dangled from the thin gold chain that she always wore. I never saw her without that cross all the years we knew each other. Maybe her religion was this…be the best person she knew how to be and wear the cross as a sign of devotion. In her case, I think this was enough.