feathered hair was what i needed to be like her. The first compliment I remember: you have beautiful hair. I don’t want bangs, I want it feathered. The first stirrings of womanhood… if I can have a particular way to do my hair, maybe i’ll be closer to having a particular way to be.
nancy
like the wind brushes along your faint skin, causing a tickle as it whisps along your fine hair. then stops, suddenly like a dramatic pause
thomas
The baby bird frills his naked body, and looks up to the sky, missing his mother’s warmth. Her feathers made him feel happy, and home. He misses the way they made him feel closer to the world.
Erynn
My mind races, but haven’t I seen this word already? Perhaps it is a trick, a dream of events that have not yet passed, but I’d like to think I was more temporally stable than that.
You never know though. My mother knew a guy who was an amazing faker. He was constantly flitting through time, and yet he could live a normal life, at least in our time. God knows what those other seconds were like.
Jules
That little feathered hat hung from the mirror on her dresser, reminding her of what had come before. Her great-grandmother, fresh off the boat from Poland, had received it from a kind stranger on the street. It was raggedy and tattered looking, but it held great meaning. Not everyone hated everyone. Not everyone was evil. A feather dropped from the hat and landed on the floor.
Kat
soft. lovely. light. all encompassing comfort is exposed. we are what we wish we could be. unknown. mysterious. unrestrained.
Silver
My fine feathered friend is not a bird. She’s the loser of every pillowfight you’ve ever been in. She looks ludicrous, with her plumage arrayed all about her being. She looks like a helicopter crashed into a goose migration. She thinks she’s cool.
Jim
i was eating a feathered bug one day when i decided it was isgousting. i thought hehad poop[ on hisbutt because it was very feathered and fluffy.
if ithadnt beenm for the feathered bug that day i wolda never eaten another oneinmy life.
whata trategy! idk what i would do without it! hahah.
ernist
oh my a funky bird has landed on my hesd. good thing my hed is a venus fly trap.n odd mutation i seem to have developrd while in the amazon. it grows when fed.
Jalan Ember
soft fluffy pillow,
take me away to my dreamland
slowly sift me through
the time and sand within
feathers fall to the ground
leaving behind trails of joy
slip away and fall along
join the rest of the world in time
zulu
Feathered dinosaurs models hovered stock still in the Museum. Petrified in a state of scavenger immorality, they seemed to be joyfully taken with the plastic statuette of the downed triceratops. A lonely night at the Triassic exhibit often led to Alfred the custodian inventing crazed back stories for the pieces. In the back of his mind he couldn’t stop himself from wishing he could relinquish the pained existence of a single-cum-homeless janitor in favor of the dinosaurs in his mind, long extinct yes, but at least happy.
the q
Feathered is the additive used to describe birds and other such animals that fly and have said feathers. Oh birds how i wish i could be you flying high in the sky, but then getting shot down to die. i wonder as a bird fly’s so high in the sky, what does it think.
Zach
Damn. That feathered cat toy did prove to be the end of me. I guess fortune tellers are right sometimes. Either that or cats are just plain evil.
Fox
as soft as snow
the cold feathered wings
brushed my cheek
i caressed them with my fingers
questioning if this was real
or this was a dream.
i couldn’t tell
the scenery was hazy
all i knew was that
i never wanted it to end
i never wanted to wake up
(always)
an endless sleep
within this angel’s arms
i would rest
eternal.
alyssa
her hair it was the 80s and she was proud
a plaything of the ignorant
but she looked great…
…today, and just today.
and then we sat here and now and laughed with our huge, huge glasses that swallowed our face.
because we look great, and she did not.
l-dizzy
Feathered. Like a pillow. Or a bird. Or something beautiful and frayed. A beautiful feathered bird with fire engine red wings wiht blue and green accents, flying through the forest.
Molly
When I was in grade school the “in” hair style was feathered hair. I remember wanting to get my hair feathered but at the time I had never been to a hairstylist. I asked my parents if I could please go to a hairstylist to get my hair feathered. The answer was “no, you’re too young.” At the time our family’s hairstylist was my Father.
E Lo
I had already decided to write about the sky when I got this word, “feather,” which in fact made it nearly impossible to write anything of interest. Too close to home, too obvious, a boring connection.
David
the bird liked the nuts. the squirrel always took the birds nuts. the bird swore a vengeance. instead of following through on her plan, however, the physical stress caused her to have a severe brain hemorrahge and fall from a tree on top of the squirrel who was taking her nuts. by the end of the story, irony saved the day.
Adam Dunlavy
The bird shook it’s feathered wing, but it was broken. It was painful to watch knowing it was suffering. Something that was once able to soar was now destined to stay on the ground with the rest of us mere mortals. It’s beauty was in flight, flight that it would never achieve again. How does one go back, when you have flown with the Gods, can you walk the earth and find happiness?
belle
The black bird swooped gracefully through the skies, giant feathered wings flapping against the strength of the breeze. The fire that danced in its eyes were the battle call of a blood-thirsty raven. And that’s exactly what this so-called “graceful” creature wanted — desired. Blood. Licking it’s lips with a long, pink tongue, the raven swooped down, taking the form of a massive black wolf.
Kaze
My life is so feathered. I am spread out all over the place, only to be held tight in one place. I want to fly to reach my destination, but the tightly locked spansion of my place keeps me still.
Lynn
feathered pillows in the bedroom where we both slept that one night. red faced lovers tossed in sheets made of down. it was perfect, we were perfect. but things like that never last do they? i always wish they would.
Sophia
as the bird flew from the top
it descended upon an open plain in Kansas
The majestic bird had no plans
but only freedom that flew through its feathered body
Wishing to only feel that about of freedom
is something people wish for everyday
edward
For some reason I’m not thinking feathered like an creature, namely bird, who possesses feathers are a way of protecting the skin and propelling it into flight. Instead I’m focused on the whole concept of being nervous and not being able to be moved. stunned even. maybe that’s cuz i’m feeling feathered right now.
jany
here let the guilt drip from out the sunrise, as the not so neatly feathered clouds turn black, and this parade is on the brink of never coming back
Christian.is
Green, transcending time, transcending the paradox of man and time itself. A union between a god and a wretch. What is it?
jogg. da
There are few things that can control flight. All is lifted backwards in a vamp up to space I feel like lifting my head but I can’t turn nor can I see. It’s a random pattern and we take it in like the cool breath of winter on a hot late-summer’s shoulder. Keep it up keep it down.
Wes Rosen
to the people of the east gotta get it to the west,
i need a airplane, yo, or a feathered foot rest
don’t try to emulate
just got to perpetrate
to the air
with the beating
of your flying legrest something
juan
‘one word’. it’s actually two words.
hm.
max
birds gently feathered in flight, soft pillow delight
John
There was a nicely done image on the page with a feathered edge. It bled nicely to the white space around it giving it that snowed in feel. It was as if the image was being sucked down into a reverse black hole and all that was remaining was the nothingness
dennis coxe
The feathered boa is the perfect acroument for the drag queen on the prowl. Colors are as wild as the imagination. Would you prefer the papal purple for the stately and possibly religious drag queens or maybe neon pink is the way for you. It says, “you’re out and nothing in this world can put you back in.”
Evan
I wish I got my hair feathered instead of bobbed. The seventies are in, the 80’s are out. Oh well it’s only hair it will grow out. until next time
cindy
Pink as the feathered coat I saw hanging by the door of the club, the sky, the clouds, they moved slowly into the night as we stood outside and watch the sun sink into the black of the mountains – so distant, I always thought I’d never see what lies behind them…
Somehow, I don’t need to.
R
The image that first invades my mind is that of an angel’s wings; the soft, heavenly waves. It’s an image of two things: grace and entrapment.
I wish I were somehow entwined in either; lost to grace, or trapped to an extent beyond saving.
Shane Woodard
his mind wandered through the pages of the everyday. he kept remembering things the way they should’ve happened. it was a painful thing to do, you know. think of how drastic the desire of someone has to be for one to imagine memories that never existed, essentially altering history without the reality. every memory would be of her. every thought was of her. every dream will be of her. to what avail? he wanted his life at her editing, but did she feel like reading? was she ready to create the story he wanted to read?
Fred Man Jones
As she walked in the room, her dress feathered out at her feet. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her long chocolate brown hair, feel in loose curls down her shoulders and her eyes sparkled like diamonds.
belle
birds are feathered of course. and we all know we all want to be birds. like icarus. but maybe without the burning. suppose there are many other creatures who have feathers. but i can’t even get my hair done now. would birds have a thing like a bad feather day? there’s something to think about.
desire and necessity
throw in the like
treason and heresy
awkward and aflight
feathered hair was what i needed to be like her. The first compliment I remember: you have beautiful hair. I don’t want bangs, I want it feathered. The first stirrings of womanhood… if I can have a particular way to do my hair, maybe i’ll be closer to having a particular way to be.
like the wind brushes along your faint skin, causing a tickle as it whisps along your fine hair. then stops, suddenly like a dramatic pause
The baby bird frills his naked body, and looks up to the sky, missing his mother’s warmth. Her feathers made him feel happy, and home. He misses the way they made him feel closer to the world.
My mind races, but haven’t I seen this word already? Perhaps it is a trick, a dream of events that have not yet passed, but I’d like to think I was more temporally stable than that.
You never know though. My mother knew a guy who was an amazing faker. He was constantly flitting through time, and yet he could live a normal life, at least in our time. God knows what those other seconds were like.
That little feathered hat hung from the mirror on her dresser, reminding her of what had come before. Her great-grandmother, fresh off the boat from Poland, had received it from a kind stranger on the street. It was raggedy and tattered looking, but it held great meaning. Not everyone hated everyone. Not everyone was evil. A feather dropped from the hat and landed on the floor.
soft. lovely. light. all encompassing comfort is exposed. we are what we wish we could be. unknown. mysterious. unrestrained.
My fine feathered friend is not a bird. She’s the loser of every pillowfight you’ve ever been in. She looks ludicrous, with her plumage arrayed all about her being. She looks like a helicopter crashed into a goose migration. She thinks she’s cool.
i was eating a feathered bug one day when i decided it was isgousting. i thought hehad poop[ on hisbutt because it was very feathered and fluffy.
if ithadnt beenm for the feathered bug that day i wolda never eaten another oneinmy life.
whata trategy! idk what i would do without it! hahah.
oh my a funky bird has landed on my hesd. good thing my hed is a venus fly trap.n odd mutation i seem to have developrd while in the amazon. it grows when fed.
soft fluffy pillow,
take me away to my dreamland
slowly sift me through
the time and sand within
feathers fall to the ground
leaving behind trails of joy
slip away and fall along
join the rest of the world in time
Feathered dinosaurs models hovered stock still in the Museum. Petrified in a state of scavenger immorality, they seemed to be joyfully taken with the plastic statuette of the downed triceratops. A lonely night at the Triassic exhibit often led to Alfred the custodian inventing crazed back stories for the pieces. In the back of his mind he couldn’t stop himself from wishing he could relinquish the pained existence of a single-cum-homeless janitor in favor of the dinosaurs in his mind, long extinct yes, but at least happy.
Feathered is the additive used to describe birds and other such animals that fly and have said feathers. Oh birds how i wish i could be you flying high in the sky, but then getting shot down to die. i wonder as a bird fly’s so high in the sky, what does it think.
Damn. That feathered cat toy did prove to be the end of me. I guess fortune tellers are right sometimes. Either that or cats are just plain evil.
as soft as snow
the cold feathered wings
brushed my cheek
i caressed them with my fingers
questioning if this was real
or this was a dream.
i couldn’t tell
the scenery was hazy
all i knew was that
i never wanted it to end
i never wanted to wake up
(always)
an endless sleep
within this angel’s arms
i would rest
eternal.
her hair it was the 80s and she was proud
a plaything of the ignorant
but she looked great…
…today, and just today.
and then we sat here and now and laughed with our huge, huge glasses that swallowed our face.
because we look great, and she did not.
Feathered. Like a pillow. Or a bird. Or something beautiful and frayed. A beautiful feathered bird with fire engine red wings wiht blue and green accents, flying through the forest.
When I was in grade school the “in” hair style was feathered hair. I remember wanting to get my hair feathered but at the time I had never been to a hairstylist. I asked my parents if I could please go to a hairstylist to get my hair feathered. The answer was “no, you’re too young.” At the time our family’s hairstylist was my Father.
I had already decided to write about the sky when I got this word, “feather,” which in fact made it nearly impossible to write anything of interest. Too close to home, too obvious, a boring connection.
the bird liked the nuts. the squirrel always took the birds nuts. the bird swore a vengeance. instead of following through on her plan, however, the physical stress caused her to have a severe brain hemorrahge and fall from a tree on top of the squirrel who was taking her nuts. by the end of the story, irony saved the day.
The bird shook it’s feathered wing, but it was broken. It was painful to watch knowing it was suffering. Something that was once able to soar was now destined to stay on the ground with the rest of us mere mortals. It’s beauty was in flight, flight that it would never achieve again. How does one go back, when you have flown with the Gods, can you walk the earth and find happiness?
The black bird swooped gracefully through the skies, giant feathered wings flapping against the strength of the breeze. The fire that danced in its eyes were the battle call of a blood-thirsty raven. And that’s exactly what this so-called “graceful” creature wanted — desired. Blood. Licking it’s lips with a long, pink tongue, the raven swooped down, taking the form of a massive black wolf.
My life is so feathered. I am spread out all over the place, only to be held tight in one place. I want to fly to reach my destination, but the tightly locked spansion of my place keeps me still.
feathered pillows in the bedroom where we both slept that one night. red faced lovers tossed in sheets made of down. it was perfect, we were perfect. but things like that never last do they? i always wish they would.
as the bird flew from the top
it descended upon an open plain in Kansas
The majestic bird had no plans
but only freedom that flew through its feathered body
Wishing to only feel that about of freedom
is something people wish for everyday
For some reason I’m not thinking feathered like an creature, namely bird, who possesses feathers are a way of protecting the skin and propelling it into flight. Instead I’m focused on the whole concept of being nervous and not being able to be moved. stunned even. maybe that’s cuz i’m feeling feathered right now.
here let the guilt drip from out the sunrise, as the not so neatly feathered clouds turn black, and this parade is on the brink of never coming back
Green, transcending time, transcending the paradox of man and time itself. A union between a god and a wretch. What is it?
There are few things that can control flight. All is lifted backwards in a vamp up to space I feel like lifting my head but I can’t turn nor can I see. It’s a random pattern and we take it in like the cool breath of winter on a hot late-summer’s shoulder. Keep it up keep it down.
to the people of the east gotta get it to the west,
i need a airplane, yo, or a feathered foot rest
don’t try to emulate
just got to perpetrate
to the air
with the beating
of your flying legrest something
‘one word’. it’s actually two words.
hm.
birds gently feathered in flight, soft pillow delight
There was a nicely done image on the page with a feathered edge. It bled nicely to the white space around it giving it that snowed in feel. It was as if the image was being sucked down into a reverse black hole and all that was remaining was the nothingness
The feathered boa is the perfect acroument for the drag queen on the prowl. Colors are as wild as the imagination. Would you prefer the papal purple for the stately and possibly religious drag queens or maybe neon pink is the way for you. It says, “you’re out and nothing in this world can put you back in.”
I wish I got my hair feathered instead of bobbed. The seventies are in, the 80’s are out. Oh well it’s only hair it will grow out. until next time
Pink as the feathered coat I saw hanging by the door of the club, the sky, the clouds, they moved slowly into the night as we stood outside and watch the sun sink into the black of the mountains – so distant, I always thought I’d never see what lies behind them…
Somehow, I don’t need to.
The image that first invades my mind is that of an angel’s wings; the soft, heavenly waves. It’s an image of two things: grace and entrapment.
I wish I were somehow entwined in either; lost to grace, or trapped to an extent beyond saving.
his mind wandered through the pages of the everyday. he kept remembering things the way they should’ve happened. it was a painful thing to do, you know. think of how drastic the desire of someone has to be for one to imagine memories that never existed, essentially altering history without the reality. every memory would be of her. every thought was of her. every dream will be of her. to what avail? he wanted his life at her editing, but did she feel like reading? was she ready to create the story he wanted to read?
As she walked in the room, her dress feathered out at her feet. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her long chocolate brown hair, feel in loose curls down her shoulders and her eyes sparkled like diamonds.
birds are feathered of course. and we all know we all want to be birds. like icarus. but maybe without the burning. suppose there are many other creatures who have feathers. but i can’t even get my hair done now. would birds have a thing like a bad feather day? there’s something to think about.