I remember the childhood romps around the den, wrestling with Daddy until Mom called us in for dinner: happy days, before things got serious and life took over.
In the den that is you arms I felt loved, safe, protected. And now as I lay out in the cold I remember that happy place and my heart aches. Maybe some day I will return to the loving arms of a beautiful person but until then I lay, forgotten in the snow of loneliness.
My friend bought a wolf at the same time he had his backyard landscaped. One day he came home and realized that she had built a den in the corner of the yard. No one told him when he bought her that she was pregnant and she built the den for her pups. At first he was mad that she had destroyed part of his landscape until he realized that this is what wolves do. Then he was fine with it.
Peaceable
it’s waking up knowing that the need to function isn’t really a need, its a want you have to care for and treat delicately.
it’s that fragility that you spend hours contemplating because function has became an option but deteriorating seems far too cliche.
it’s knowing somethings wrong and not fixing it; not because tomorrow is too far away, but because it is so damn close.
it’s time better spent towards working to the top instead used to make yourself the worst.
it’s being awkward, not because your social skills are undeveloped but for the very fact that breathing like a normal person makes your skin crawl.
it’s hands you can’t forget but you totally regret
it’s allowing todays to cease, yesterdays to move, and being scared of the next second.
it’s going to sleep with teardrops falling on your head and whispering, ‘that doesn’t mean that I am dead.’
it’s your grotesque, naked reflection that vividly replays in your mind as you go to lunch
it’s what you’ve finally admitted to becoming: yourself
Alyssa Johnson
I had den yesterday. I guess I’m just anxious and the site hasn’t updated yet. Oh well. I’ll be back.
Amanda
I’d like to have a den—a “room of one’s own—as coined by Virginia Wolfe. I’d want it to be a haven, a shelter from the storms of family life and work, and the world when it all just gets too crazy to bear.
Andie
type of cattle found mainly in Africa and Asia
Maansi
I am in my den. Only, it doesn’t feel happy and safe and sound and I don’t feel like a cute little fox.I feel like an ogre, unlovable and too big for everything, with one eye looking clumsily out on the lonely world. This is my dirt world.
The place of refuge for David and his men was tiny – four feet wide and three feet high.
a definite cause for claustrophobia.
Yet, in that cramped, damp space,
hearts were strengthened, courage grew.
Walking into the lion’s den is only fun when you’ve brought the lunch.
Lauren Elizabeth
dens are usually in places that we human beings can not find . I think they may be the last places that are not polluted in this world
Brenda
Ey, kennst du den? – Ne, du? – Ne, ich auch nicht. Aber der sieht voll süß aus. Oder? – Na ja, ich weiß nicht. Ich steh’ nicht so auf… Striche. – Wie, Striche? – Na, schau doch mal, wie dünn der ist! – Mh.
I don’t really have a den or know anyone who does. I believe that the homes that foxes live in is called a den. Say? Does that mean they should have called it “The Playboy Den”?
The mother bear stirred in her footsteps. A cold breeze made its way through the trees, blowing softly against her thick fur. The warm season was coming to an end. She pawed at the soft ground idly, knowing that it was time to start providing for herself. With the colorful leaves and the autumn, she knew that winter was coming.
I sat in my little den all day today. My brain was fogged by 5 o’clock and the harsh light of day was confronting. I shouldn’t stay away from reality for long periods of time…
The cub scurried out of the prickly bush and ran to its mother, who eyed the offending plant suspiciously, its eyes narrowed. The leopardess licked the top of her offspring’s head, peeling away the small leaves stuck in its fur.
A place where one goes to get away from the troubles of life…to forget the hardship and stress of the day been and plan the days ahead…dark, warm and inviting only to oneself.
Ben
She craved the warmth of a warm den, with a fire crackling and meat cooking on a stick. Yet she kept trudging through the knee deep snow.
twat sucked Obama is a whole lot worse
I remember the childhood romps around the den, wrestling with Daddy until Mom called us in for dinner: happy days, before things got serious and life took over.
I’ve made my way in to this deepness. Warm fuzz and crackling. Writing of my days with you.
come,
hide from the elements.
come,
kick your feet up
next to the fire.
come,
hibernate.
Let’s vibe together.
In the den that is you arms I felt loved, safe, protected. And now as I lay out in the cold I remember that happy place and my heart aches. Maybe some day I will return to the loving arms of a beautiful person but until then I lay, forgotten in the snow of loneliness.
My friend bought a wolf at the same time he had his backyard landscaped. One day he came home and realized that she had built a den in the corner of the yard. No one told him when he bought her that she was pregnant and she built the den for her pups. At first he was mad that she had destroyed part of his landscape until he realized that this is what wolves do. Then he was fine with it.
it’s waking up knowing that the need to function isn’t really a need, its a want you have to care for and treat delicately.
it’s that fragility that you spend hours contemplating because function has became an option but deteriorating seems far too cliche.
it’s knowing somethings wrong and not fixing it; not because tomorrow is too far away, but because it is so damn close.
it’s time better spent towards working to the top instead used to make yourself the worst.
it’s being awkward, not because your social skills are undeveloped but for the very fact that breathing like a normal person makes your skin crawl.
it’s hands you can’t forget but you totally regret
it’s allowing todays to cease, yesterdays to move, and being scared of the next second.
it’s going to sleep with teardrops falling on your head and whispering, ‘that doesn’t mean that I am dead.’
it’s your grotesque, naked reflection that vividly replays in your mind as you go to lunch
it’s what you’ve finally admitted to becoming: yourself
I had den yesterday. I guess I’m just anxious and the site hasn’t updated yet. Oh well. I’ll be back.
I’d like to have a den—a “room of one’s own—as coined by Virginia Wolfe. I’d want it to be a haven, a shelter from the storms of family life and work, and the world when it all just gets too crazy to bear.
type of cattle found mainly in Africa and Asia
I am in my den. Only, it doesn’t feel happy and safe and sound and I don’t feel like a cute little fox.I feel like an ogre, unlovable and too big for everything, with one eye looking clumsily out on the lonely world. This is my dirt world.
I sit in my den
hungry and restless
alone without kin
i breathe until breathless
forever I watch,
I’m a lonely sasquatch
The place of refuge for David and his men was tiny – four feet wide and three feet high.
a definite cause for claustrophobia.
Yet, in that cramped, damp space,
hearts were strengthened, courage grew.
Walking into the lion’s den is only fun when you’ve brought the lunch.
dens are usually in places that we human beings can not find . I think they may be the last places that are not polluted in this world
Ey, kennst du den? – Ne, du? – Ne, ich auch nicht. Aber der sieht voll süß aus. Oder? – Na ja, ich weiß nicht. Ich steh’ nicht so auf… Striche. – Wie, Striche? – Na, schau doch mal, wie dünn der ist! – Mh.
She pulled aside the strings of african beads that hung in the doorway of the den, ignoring the familiar swishing as they settled back into place.
I don’t really have a den or know anyone who does. I believe that the homes that foxes live in is called a den. Say? Does that mean they should have called it “The Playboy Den”?
The mother bear stirred in her footsteps. A cold breeze made its way through the trees, blowing softly against her thick fur. The warm season was coming to an end. She pawed at the soft ground idly, knowing that it was time to start providing for herself. With the colorful leaves and the autumn, she knew that winter was coming.
I sat in my little den all day today. My brain was fogged by 5 o’clock and the harsh light of day was confronting. I shouldn’t stay away from reality for long periods of time…
The cub scurried out of the prickly bush and ran to its mother, who eyed the offending plant suspiciously, its eyes narrowed. The leopardess licked the top of her offspring’s head, peeling away the small leaves stuck in its fur.
A place where one goes to get away from the troubles of life…to forget the hardship and stress of the day been and plan the days ahead…dark, warm and inviting only to oneself.
She craved the warmth of a warm den, with a fire crackling and meat cooking on a stick. Yet she kept trudging through the knee deep snow.