I have a desk. I fact, I have two desks. One at one side of the room, one at the other. I like to move between them when I work. As if they are two sides to my brain. Separate places for thinking.
Iain Broome
I’m sitting here, writing at my desk. Desks remind me of school and I love school! Desks are where ideas can be born. And don’t forget the words of the hatter, “How is a raven like a writing desk?”
Michaella
The desk is the sanctuary. The artist in the muse become married in holy matramony. The tools resemble the promise. The desk is where the magic happens. Where the artist and the desk make love. And make babies.
Well I’m not sitting at one, but this is what I would be working on if not on a table. This is my dinner table I’m working on. A desk is what I work on at school. In Spanish, a desk is a pupitre for a student’s desk. I forget the name of a desk for a TEACHER’s desk.
Michael
Where I sit at school. The piece of furniture in my dorm room that has a variety of things in it and on it. The place where I do school work. The place where I might work at some point. The fathers day present that we never finished. Made of wood most of the time. Large and heavy for the most part.
chair is a pretty thing to see.. i dont like desk’s it reminds me of school. ewewwewwe. hahahahahahah omg one minute takes long ._. im scared of waht might happen next ahhh the time is going fast. desk is pretty <3.<3 lalalalalalla ahh time out ! for me ! hahah ! f
Raso
Why do you censor everything I write, trite website?
“You have been bitten by God,” they told us, as they jabbed us with their syringes. “Marked from birth, each and every one of you. Flesh and bone bound by divine illumination; disciples to the path of truth with the gift of righteous working. This is a blessing.”
“Blessing?” I thought. If this was a blessing, I wanted to see a curse.
The serum had already begun it’s work. My mind faded to a blank as my surroundings took on a ghostly hue, the fragile couplings of reality slowly starting to fray. They had already placed the manuscript at my desk, and I stumbled down to my seat in a daze. My thoughts slowed down to a crawl, allowing me to analyze the intricacies of each word, slowly turning over the implications of each sentence over on my tongue as I silently mouthed out the words. “I pledge to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Truth, in the name of Ruth.”
I just sat. Sat and learned new words. New words which I wrote down. French once.
Je ne sais pas comment le dire proprement, mais ondule est mon ami. La peine et la hurte de simplement m’asseoir pendant des heures and des autres heures et plus d’heures.
The wooden school desk was old, battered, as if past students used to pound the surface with something heavy (like textbooks). There were many scars and little indentations in the wood. Perhaps there were traces of gum substance left behind after several years of being stuck to the desk. Or perhaps through osmosis, the gum has become infused with the desk altogether.
Cindy
Oh all the success that has happened at a desk. I can’t think of many words that has desk as a prefix, but I do most of the successes, crimes, business deals, dissertations, and overnighters have happened at desks.
Kent
He glanced quickly over to the desk and noticed that it had been bitten and gnawed on too. “What the hell on earth could cause something or someone to gnaw on wood to this degree, and then where did all this blood come from?” Jensen asked himself. A tap on his shoulder freaked him out of his contemplation and he jolted.
Elementary school and four desks put together. I remember a teacher asking us what our first through fourth choices would be for who we’d want in our group. I was always worried I’d end up with people I didn’t like, but every time, I loved my group of four. I think everybody was happy with their seating assignments. I don’t remember any of us looking at another table and pining for friends WAY over there! – Impressive that our teacher successfully pulled that off every time.
Noisy Quiet
I love to work at my desk. clean it. organize it. paper and pencil. photos. phone. It is great to have a clean desk. It inspires work. It is useful for working on all sorts of projects. Storage space is useful. No distractions is also helpful. I will see how much I have created.
no more
I’m sitting at the desk for the first time in weeks. I usually sit at the bar, drinking my way through a haze of nothing. My ind locked down and thoughts evading me. Running for their life.
Sheila Good
El escritorio estaba mojado
Sus maderas abiertas y resquebrajadas
Con la punta de mis dedos la toqué, como si a través del tacto de mis dedos pudiese consolarla
Levanté los ojos hacia el cielo, vi el techo abierto y las nubes como testigos de aquella tragedia
it’s only a symbol. it’s a symbol of my bondage. it’s a symbol that I am not where I am supposed to be. I’m sitting here, at a desk, filing paper work and making sure things get done but I’m not DOING. everyone else gets to do what they trained for, but for now, until this baby comes, I’m sitting at a desk, typing.
Gloria
table.spoon. mine is green. wood. dots. it has 4 legs and a plate. i’m stupid. close enough. i have no more idea. dinner. wow i have more time. studying. books. why are all of my sentences just one word? purple. colors. gray.
Jenny
She sat at her desk and took flight. As she put paper to pen the dust began to blow out in all directions, propelled backward by the momentum of her creativity. Ever so unnoticably slowly she began to drift up up up- but the phenomena went unnoticed. She was too busy making others fly.
what is this?
woah
what is this it seems cool
im just gonna keep writing till the bar at the end stops. I don’t know how long that will take but ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. really weird. My dog doodle is stupid. He thinks he can jump anything.
Britanee
Professor Bertram kept a small container of snuff within the lowest drawer of his old, oaken desk. The inhalation of the drug calmed him, the tremor in his right hand dissipating as he settled himself down in his chair to correct papers. The seven-page essay written out by one of his star pupils immediately enticed him, and he shuffled other leaves aside to read the particularly pounded out text.
Belinda Roddie
“really? so what is desk in Italian?”
“Deskio.”
Anais
there on the desk sits a pile of pictures, a puddle of ribbons, a sheaf of loose paper and scraps and bits of yarn. I keep meaning to get back to it, but there’s just never enough time in the day to deal with discarded things. I’d really much rather deal with the things that I love.
i don’t have one…. i am not d one wo shld be writing abt it’s significance…life just goes on fine without one …. though i’d like a pink one on my bed side…. with blacks strips..made of choclate
naval
I sit at this desk. My stories pour out of my mind, like flowing water in a stream. But I cannot find the place to set them in stone. But as I sit here, they return to me as if they were new again. I thank my desk for this simple gift.
I sit at my desk, writing. Sometimes I begin my days this way and sometimes I end my days this way, writing under a dim desk lamp, on a chair that squeaks when I turn around. I wonder how many paragraphs and stanzas I will so at this desk. I wonder how many fucks this desk will meet too.
A hard surface that I associate with school and work, but is also potentially somewhere that creative things can happen. I want to change that association rather than allow it to continue in my mind to be the blunt force weapon of negative association that it is now. Power to the desk!
Tom
You can tell an enormous amount about a person just from the way they keep their desk top. Or not as the case may be. A clear desk signals tidiness, order, control. This is someone who cares. Someone who matters or a secretive someone with everything to hide. A desk top where the pens and paper and phone are arranged at regular right angles indicates a fastidiousness possibly bordering on the obsessive compulsive. Someone who cares too much. A messy desk means a disorderly mind; someone who doesn’t care enough about themselves or what anyone else thinks of them. A dirty desk – well just don’t go there. That’s someone who has lost it completely. Someone who doesn’t care at all. Or someone with nothing left to care about. Dig a little deeper always; they all have a story to tell.
My desk is full of work.
What ever shall I do?
Will this work ever get done?
Oh yes I have faith in me.
The desk was bright and orange with spots of yellow and blue.
and not the least inspirational. cold metal, wood and depression; that’s all i see. angular frame gauding me for my lethargy, sarcastic in its accusations that i do not reach my full potential because i can’t be bothered to work.
smileandcry
I pull up to my desk expecting the words to come easy, they don’t, no matter how long I sit here the words do not come. I wait and wait still the words do not come. I long to say what is in my heart and let you hear my love for you but the words do not come.
Die Tafeln stapelten sich an der Wand. Es waren grüne und weiße, rote und schwarze, einige mit ganz undefinierbaren Farbmischungen. Auf allen stand das eine Wort: “Käse.”
The desk was clean. Too clean. Without a word, Storm sat down, letting his fingers slide over the smooth wood of Flash’s desk. Flash had never used it, this was true. But why was it clean now? Dust should have speckled upon the hard surface, but yet it wasn’t. Someone had been here.
It was old and had been sanded down more than once by weathered hands, but with patience that could only be found in the waves that rocked against the shore with a consistency that could only envied on ground.
What I sit at to write, to read, to draw, to work. The place I can always come back to. The place my calendar is. Where my nick knacks live :)
Emily
The desk in my office is made from wood. It’s bright wood, cheap wood. There are four screens on my desk. I spend my working days in front of four screens and sometimes I ask myself, if that is called progress.
corinnele
funny…as I write about this word I am staring at the place where my desk will be. I see this desk in my mind….like I’ve written on it before…
desk…
vessel to other worlds, places
minds and spaces
truth and lies
dunno’s and whys
description and dialogue
no writing my brain gets clogged
words on a page
spill out my rage
dissipate my sadness
invite greater gladness
trips through time
rythm and rhyme
truth and lies
dunno’s and whys
My desk. Where I work. No, where I procrastinate. No, where I edit. Wait. Yes, edit. Writing, life, relationships. Where’s my eraser? Or spell check! If I could only transform the feeling, the experiences of my dreams, of the inner feeling of peace onto a peace of paper. On to the keyboard. Coffee. Yes, coffee. another way to procrastinate.
the desk is the place where i do work and where things get done. the desk is wood and the desk takes alot of beating becasue of the use that gets out of it. the desk is wodden, and i use it everyday. i need a new one becasue the old one is falling apart i love when my desk is there for me to use and i dont have to do work on the bed because it makes it so much easier.
tori
If you opened a desk
a broken, brittle thing
discarded and detached
from the purpose of its build
to be rested on my head or hand
to write, draw, paint – communicate
a life lived in words and colours
I have a desk. I fact, I have two desks. One at one side of the room, one at the other. I like to move between them when I work. As if they are two sides to my brain. Separate places for thinking.
I’m sitting here, writing at my desk. Desks remind me of school and I love school! Desks are where ideas can be born. And don’t forget the words of the hatter, “How is a raven like a writing desk?”
The desk is the sanctuary. The artist in the muse become married in holy matramony. The tools resemble the promise. The desk is where the magic happens. Where the artist and the desk make love. And make babies.
Well I’m not sitting at one, but this is what I would be working on if not on a table. This is my dinner table I’m working on. A desk is what I work on at school. In Spanish, a desk is a pupitre for a student’s desk. I forget the name of a desk for a TEACHER’s desk.
Where I sit at school. The piece of furniture in my dorm room that has a variety of things in it and on it. The place where I do school work. The place where I might work at some point. The fathers day present that we never finished. Made of wood most of the time. Large and heavy for the most part.
chair is a pretty thing to see.. i dont like desk’s it reminds me of school. ewewwewwe. hahahahahahah omg one minute takes long ._. im scared of waht might happen next ahhh the time is going fast. desk is pretty <3.<3 lalalalalalla ahh time out ! for me ! hahah ! f
Why do you censor everything I write, trite website?
“You have been bitten by God,” they told us, as they jabbed us with their syringes. “Marked from birth, each and every one of you. Flesh and bone bound by divine illumination; disciples to the path of truth with the gift of righteous working. This is a blessing.”
“Blessing?” I thought. If this was a blessing, I wanted to see a curse.
The serum had already begun it’s work. My mind faded to a blank as my surroundings took on a ghostly hue, the fragile couplings of reality slowly starting to fray. They had already placed the manuscript at my desk, and I stumbled down to my seat in a daze. My thoughts slowed down to a crawl, allowing me to analyze the intricacies of each word, slowly turning over the implications of each sentence over on my tongue as I silently mouthed out the words. “I pledge to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Truth, in the name of Ruth.”
I just sat. Sat and learned new words. New words which I wrote down. French once.
Je ne sais pas comment le dire proprement, mais ondule est mon ami. La peine et la hurte de simplement m’asseoir pendant des heures and des autres heures et plus d’heures.
The wooden school desk was old, battered, as if past students used to pound the surface with something heavy (like textbooks). There were many scars and little indentations in the wood. Perhaps there were traces of gum substance left behind after several years of being stuck to the desk. Or perhaps through osmosis, the gum has become infused with the desk altogether.
Oh all the success that has happened at a desk. I can’t think of many words that has desk as a prefix, but I do most of the successes, crimes, business deals, dissertations, and overnighters have happened at desks.
He glanced quickly over to the desk and noticed that it had been bitten and gnawed on too. “What the hell on earth could cause something or someone to gnaw on wood to this degree, and then where did all this blood come from?” Jensen asked himself. A tap on his shoulder freaked him out of his contemplation and he jolted.
Desk
Elementary school and four desks put together. I remember a teacher asking us what our first through fourth choices would be for who we’d want in our group. I was always worried I’d end up with people I didn’t like, but every time, I loved my group of four. I think everybody was happy with their seating assignments. I don’t remember any of us looking at another table and pining for friends WAY over there! – Impressive that our teacher successfully pulled that off every time.
I love to work at my desk. clean it. organize it. paper and pencil. photos. phone. It is great to have a clean desk. It inspires work. It is useful for working on all sorts of projects. Storage space is useful. No distractions is also helpful. I will see how much I have created.
I’m sitting at the desk for the first time in weeks. I usually sit at the bar, drinking my way through a haze of nothing. My ind locked down and thoughts evading me. Running for their life.
El escritorio estaba mojado
Sus maderas abiertas y resquebrajadas
Con la punta de mis dedos la toqué, como si a través del tacto de mis dedos pudiese consolarla
Levanté los ojos hacia el cielo, vi el techo abierto y las nubes como testigos de aquella tragedia
it’s only a symbol. it’s a symbol of my bondage. it’s a symbol that I am not where I am supposed to be. I’m sitting here, at a desk, filing paper work and making sure things get done but I’m not DOING. everyone else gets to do what they trained for, but for now, until this baby comes, I’m sitting at a desk, typing.
table.spoon. mine is green. wood. dots. it has 4 legs and a plate. i’m stupid. close enough. i have no more idea. dinner. wow i have more time. studying. books. why are all of my sentences just one word? purple. colors. gray.
She sat at her desk and took flight. As she put paper to pen the dust began to blow out in all directions, propelled backward by the momentum of her creativity. Ever so unnoticably slowly she began to drift up up up- but the phenomena went unnoticed. She was too busy making others fly.
what is this?
woah
what is this it seems cool
im just gonna keep writing till the bar at the end stops. I don’t know how long that will take but ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. really weird. My dog doodle is stupid. He thinks he can jump anything.
Professor Bertram kept a small container of snuff within the lowest drawer of his old, oaken desk. The inhalation of the drug calmed him, the tremor in his right hand dissipating as he settled himself down in his chair to correct papers. The seven-page essay written out by one of his star pupils immediately enticed him, and he shuffled other leaves aside to read the particularly pounded out text.
“really? so what is desk in Italian?”
“Deskio.”
there on the desk sits a pile of pictures, a puddle of ribbons, a sheaf of loose paper and scraps and bits of yarn. I keep meaning to get back to it, but there’s just never enough time in the day to deal with discarded things. I’d really much rather deal with the things that I love.
i don’t have one…. i am not d one wo shld be writing abt it’s significance…life just goes on fine without one …. though i’d like a pink one on my bed side…. with blacks strips..made of choclate
I sit at this desk. My stories pour out of my mind, like flowing water in a stream. But I cannot find the place to set them in stone. But as I sit here, they return to me as if they were new again. I thank my desk for this simple gift.
I sit at my desk, writing. Sometimes I begin my days this way and sometimes I end my days this way, writing under a dim desk lamp, on a chair that squeaks when I turn around. I wonder how many paragraphs and stanzas I will so at this desk. I wonder how many fucks this desk will meet too.
A hard surface that I associate with school and work, but is also potentially somewhere that creative things can happen. I want to change that association rather than allow it to continue in my mind to be the blunt force weapon of negative association that it is now. Power to the desk!
You can tell an enormous amount about a person just from the way they keep their desk top. Or not as the case may be. A clear desk signals tidiness, order, control. This is someone who cares. Someone who matters or a secretive someone with everything to hide. A desk top where the pens and paper and phone are arranged at regular right angles indicates a fastidiousness possibly bordering on the obsessive compulsive. Someone who cares too much. A messy desk means a disorderly mind; someone who doesn’t care enough about themselves or what anyone else thinks of them. A dirty desk – well just don’t go there. That’s someone who has lost it completely. Someone who doesn’t care at all. Or someone with nothing left to care about. Dig a little deeper always; they all have a story to tell.
My desk is full of work.
What ever shall I do?
Will this work ever get done?
Oh yes I have faith in me.
The desk was bright and orange with spots of yellow and blue.
and not the least inspirational. cold metal, wood and depression; that’s all i see. angular frame gauding me for my lethargy, sarcastic in its accusations that i do not reach my full potential because i can’t be bothered to work.
I pull up to my desk expecting the words to come easy, they don’t, no matter how long I sit here the words do not come. I wait and wait still the words do not come. I long to say what is in my heart and let you hear my love for you but the words do not come.
Die Tafeln stapelten sich an der Wand. Es waren grüne und weiße, rote und schwarze, einige mit ganz undefinierbaren Farbmischungen. Auf allen stand das eine Wort: “Käse.”
The desk was clean. Too clean. Without a word, Storm sat down, letting his fingers slide over the smooth wood of Flash’s desk. Flash had never used it, this was true. But why was it clean now? Dust should have speckled upon the hard surface, but yet it wasn’t. Someone had been here.
It was old and had been sanded down more than once by weathered hands, but with patience that could only be found in the waves that rocked against the shore with a consistency that could only envied on ground.
What I sit at to write, to read, to draw, to work. The place I can always come back to. The place my calendar is. Where my nick knacks live :)
The desk in my office is made from wood. It’s bright wood, cheap wood. There are four screens on my desk. I spend my working days in front of four screens and sometimes I ask myself, if that is called progress.
funny…as I write about this word I am staring at the place where my desk will be. I see this desk in my mind….like I’ve written on it before…
desk…
vessel to other worlds, places
minds and spaces
truth and lies
dunno’s and whys
description and dialogue
no writing my brain gets clogged
words on a page
spill out my rage
dissipate my sadness
invite greater gladness
trips through time
rythm and rhyme
truth and lies
dunno’s and whys
My desk. Where I work. No, where I procrastinate. No, where I edit. Wait. Yes, edit. Writing, life, relationships. Where’s my eraser? Or spell check! If I could only transform the feeling, the experiences of my dreams, of the inner feeling of peace onto a peace of paper. On to the keyboard. Coffee. Yes, coffee. another way to procrastinate.
the desk is the place where i do work and where things get done. the desk is wood and the desk takes alot of beating becasue of the use that gets out of it. the desk is wodden, and i use it everyday. i need a new one becasue the old one is falling apart i love when my desk is there for me to use and i dont have to do work on the bed because it makes it so much easier.
If you opened a desk
a broken, brittle thing
discarded and detached
from the purpose of its build
to be rested on my head or hand
to write, draw, paint – communicate
a life lived in words and colours