Festival. Happiness. Smiling faces. Smells of yummy food cooking. Sounds of laughter. Arts. Creativity. Colors. Dancing. Singing. Selling. Good times. All the time.
Kristen
Festival is something that happens with pointless reasons that don’t even matter I have always hated those who care about politics and major government stuff only and hate childish things but they don’t realize there is something bigger then politics and the secrets behind them. There is something bigger out there and no one is yet to figure them out.
M
Hula hoops trailed up her body, flying into the air. A fiery ring in the night sky. Across the way, pounded the sweet violin of the performer. Girls crowded around, melting over the seemingly disinterested artist. Yogis sat. Meditating in the back of the field. So far away that the only thing seen was long hair melted with long skirts. How I love wanderlust. This magical music and yoga festival.
The festival was in full swing by the time she got there. The lights, the sounds, the smells. It all reminded her of the days before; when things were easier and there was such a thing as freedom outside this quiet, sad corner of her mind. She wished those days had never faded.
They dance, they sing
They miss their loved one
But a last you must look at the positive
Passed to another life he is
Never to return
But we shall return to him
Kidd
Orange and fire colors rain from the sky in the form of confetti. Confetti sounds so formal, though. It fails to capture the chaos present on the street, and you look up and your lower lip hangs a bit because you find it difficult to process everything that’s happening around you all at the same second.
Festival of arts, festival a place where people go to spend money on things they don’t need and will end up in the basement or at a garage sale. Cherry Creek Arts festival.
Ross
The festival? The festival! It was happening all over again. The streamers dangling from each window, the heavenly smell of dishes from all over town. Francis’s baked fish, Granny Storm’s pies, and of course, Mister Fox’s fresh meats, cheeses, and soups. And the boys were at it again, dancing and cavorting about in their fancy red jackets and new brown shoes. I watched them with a cup of ale and felt the familiar smile creep across my lips again.
Belinda Roddie
HANNUKA IS THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS. first thing i thought of. hannukah song
but really:
acl. that festival. the point that you actually feel like you have some freedom. the one night. when we acted our age for one second. we actually acted 13. we stopped putting on our sophisticated mask and for that one moment… i felt free.
so don’t you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine, and life makes love look hard. the stakes are high, and the waters rough, but this love is ours.
Gddamnit, I already wrote about festivals. I suppose that was before I had an account. Auth-or-iz-ation. and whatnot. Well, what is there to say? That I got super stoned and laid in the tent for a few hours, sticky and languorous in the Tennessee heat? And that there was music, oh– music.
The festival lights blurred and her head spun as the crowds’ ambiguous noises meshed together. All she could think was; “what pretty lights. So pretty.” And all she could see were the spots of color before she passed out.
X
fun
party
goes till night
lots of food
lots of people
streamers
lanterns
Festive. Festivus. Festivating. We are festivating. No, that can’t be right. Spell check says it’s not a word it must not be a word we are not festive. We are, instead, lackadaisic. No? Fuck it, who has time for adjectives these days? Or gerunds. Am I supposed to be writing, still? The directions are not clear. At any rate, I wish that I could write as well as Dave Eggers. I already do write as well as Dave Eggers, in my own way. Perhaps, then, what I wish is that I could find the inclination to write more often. Also that I hadn’t strayed so far from the concept of festivals. Lastly, that I focused my writing in the physical because it is often much easier to describe than all of this… shit… that’s happening inside of me.
L.V.Newc
i dream of festivals of long skirts, cropped tank tops, intoxication and friends. I have never been to one and certainly don’t have the last one of these descriptions and so i sit in my apartment above a garage that rattles the thin white walls, shaking even the heaviest sleeper out of a deep slumber, just dreaming. I dream, the only problem with it is they never turn out as you create them in your mind so it becomes an incredibly high bar for expectation that always fall through.
Abby
and the festival music plays
and we swing to the beat
and you hold me close
and touch my hair
and wonder what it’s like to kiss me
and i wish you would stop wondering
and just do it
Once again I think I’ve done this one before. Probably due to a different word that makes this same song come to mind:
♫The King is holding a Festival! I wish to go to the festival! And the ball!
I miss my kingdom up in the sky…
More than anything…♫
That’s what comes into my head first. I could write about other festivals, of course, but my 60 seconds is up!
* AH HA! I’m right!!!! “Festival” was the word 10 days ago (2/1/12)! – Well at least I’m consistent.
Noisy Quiet
A carnival is the best kind of festival celebration. There’s cotton candy, which I love, and rides. There’s also games, but they are usually rigged. I tend to go on lots of rides, even though they are pretty ghetto. But the food is by far the best part.
festivals are fun. okay that was an automatic thought. i dont know if i like festivals or not. i mean i hate crowds. i really do i feel so uncomfortable in them like everyone is looking at me and criticizing me. but of course considering my social anxiety i guess thats expected. but whatever. festival. ive been to festivals before. i think.at least my idea of what they are. fun. i guess.
rebecca singleton
We just had this prompt 11 days ago! What, did they think we wouldn’t notice, or have they jusy run out of interesting words?
The festival was grand, like never before. They all ate and danced and told stories in the fires. No one could remember a better festival.
Marie Grace
The Festival of Lights. How many years has it been since I’ve last celebrated? I can’t remember the last time… it’s my favourite “holiday”. The festival in which one gets to ignite fireworks, just like Victoria Day. I look forward to the next one.
There were many people at the festival as he hopped out of the car. Ponyies walked around, pigs squealed, and kids screamed. The sun beamed. Cotton Candy shone like stars, The food smelled great. This was going to be the best festival ever!
The festival was in full swing, the atmosphere was happy, cheerful and perfect that the thought of anything going wrong seemed unlikely. The fireworks burst in the air, the people cheered and drunken revelry ensued. They had no idea that tomorrow was going to mark the beginning of the end of the world.
it sthe day of the festival and i am with the boy of my dreams. He walk hand in nhand through the sand to the ferris wheel. As we move slowly he gazes into my eyes and it feels like we arent moving at all. The sand between my toes and the wind through my hair reminds me this vacation will not last forever and i will be stuff alone back in Wiconsin. The worst of this news is i will have to live without him.
natalie
A place where people celebrate and forget their cares. Or a place where people come to hawk their work and be judged by others. A festival is rarely as festive as it should be. People are the fabric of festivals, making them interesting or dull. My favorite kind of festival is the film festival…I like stories and people who make them.
Lisa
All the neurons were at the festival. Some were eating sausages and watching the band play from up on the hill. Others were dancing down in front of the stage. Still others were getting the fire going, as it would soon be dark. All of them were firing, releasing neurotransmitters, and singing I AM I AM I AM.
Rushing wind while she glides through the air, She dances in unique outfits no one else dares to wear. She is the most beautiful vision they have ever seen , her mind in an altered state… a real life fantasy.
She was walking through the festival with all the scents and sounds around her. But she felt this presence that she couldn’t explain, as if someone was watching her, she turned, and there he was.
Mary Lou Wynegar
Festival of lights. A time to reflect. A time to remember those that we love. A time to remember those we have lost. A festival of love, life and memories.
There is a festival of lights and canopies over the Autumn night sky. The lights flicker off and on like fireflies flirting with the stars. Never before had her hair felt so free, and never before did his blue shirt shimmer so bright. There was a look, a pause, and a knowing, a before that need not to feel strung along by an unknown ending. Ubuntu.
Will Brummett
the winter festival was in full swing when the gristly discovery was made. the fingers were splayed out in a a gesture that could have been called a wave. if they were attached to a hand. the eyes stared blankly into the distance, perhaps searching for the skull they once called home.
debra
A crowd of people, positive energy flowing. Music. Commingling of food scents and smoke. Laughter rises up to the scattered clouds and bounces off the sparkling light.
Party it up! she said and walked out the door. She had second thoughts, but they were only thoughts. She didn’t say them aloud; she was afraid they’d just pressure her into it anyway. So, heels on her feet, purse in her hand, she went through the door into the bar, and that’s the last thing she remembered.
Katharine
There is a feeling of anticipation in the air, the aura of a carnival or a festival. The hope of good things, of joy and laughter, of memories made that would warm the heart for years to come.
I took the first bite with trepidation but the festival in my mouth convinced me to give up on the diet.
Festival. Happiness. Smiling faces. Smells of yummy food cooking. Sounds of laughter. Arts. Creativity. Colors. Dancing. Singing. Selling. Good times. All the time.
Festival is something that happens with pointless reasons that don’t even matter I have always hated those who care about politics and major government stuff only and hate childish things but they don’t realize there is something bigger then politics and the secrets behind them. There is something bigger out there and no one is yet to figure them out.
Hula hoops trailed up her body, flying into the air. A fiery ring in the night sky. Across the way, pounded the sweet violin of the performer. Girls crowded around, melting over the seemingly disinterested artist. Yogis sat. Meditating in the back of the field. So far away that the only thing seen was long hair melted with long skirts. How I love wanderlust. This magical music and yoga festival.
and the festival of lights was so near commencing! the city was bright and ablaze,
but who would have guessed- they had a special guest,
and the party goers were in a craze.
who was this dark figure, looming in the near distance,
which one of us invited him here?
but amidst their confusion,
it was to their delusion,
it had been summoned thanks to their hidden fear.
The festival was in full swing by the time she got there. The lights, the sounds, the smells. It all reminded her of the days before; when things were easier and there was such a thing as freedom outside this quiet, sad corner of her mind. She wished those days had never faded.
They dance, they sing
They miss their loved one
But a last you must look at the positive
Passed to another life he is
Never to return
But we shall return to him
Orange and fire colors rain from the sky in the form of confetti. Confetti sounds so formal, though. It fails to capture the chaos present on the street, and you look up and your lower lip hangs a bit because you find it difficult to process everything that’s happening around you all at the same second.
Festival of arts, festival a place where people go to spend money on things they don’t need and will end up in the basement or at a garage sale. Cherry Creek Arts festival.
The festival? The festival! It was happening all over again. The streamers dangling from each window, the heavenly smell of dishes from all over town. Francis’s baked fish, Granny Storm’s pies, and of course, Mister Fox’s fresh meats, cheeses, and soups. And the boys were at it again, dancing and cavorting about in their fancy red jackets and new brown shoes. I watched them with a cup of ale and felt the familiar smile creep across my lips again.
HANNUKA IS THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS. first thing i thought of. hannukah song
but really:
acl. that festival. the point that you actually feel like you have some freedom. the one night. when we acted our age for one second. we actually acted 13. we stopped putting on our sophisticated mask and for that one moment… i felt free.
…
so don’t you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine, and life makes love look hard. the stakes are high, and the waters rough, but this love is ours.
Gddamnit, I already wrote about festivals. I suppose that was before I had an account. Auth-or-iz-ation. and whatnot. Well, what is there to say? That I got super stoned and laid in the tent for a few hours, sticky and languorous in the Tennessee heat? And that there was music, oh– music.
The festival lights blurred and her head spun as the crowds’ ambiguous noises meshed together. All she could think was; “what pretty lights. So pretty.” And all she could see were the spots of color before she passed out.
fun
party
goes till night
lots of food
lots of people
streamers
lanterns
Festive. Festivus. Festivating. We are festivating. No, that can’t be right. Spell check says it’s not a word it must not be a word we are not festive. We are, instead, lackadaisic. No? Fuck it, who has time for adjectives these days? Or gerunds. Am I supposed to be writing, still? The directions are not clear. At any rate, I wish that I could write as well as Dave Eggers. I already do write as well as Dave Eggers, in my own way. Perhaps, then, what I wish is that I could find the inclination to write more often. Also that I hadn’t strayed so far from the concept of festivals. Lastly, that I focused my writing in the physical because it is often much easier to describe than all of this… shit… that’s happening inside of me.
i dream of festivals of long skirts, cropped tank tops, intoxication and friends. I have never been to one and certainly don’t have the last one of these descriptions and so i sit in my apartment above a garage that rattles the thin white walls, shaking even the heaviest sleeper out of a deep slumber, just dreaming. I dream, the only problem with it is they never turn out as you create them in your mind so it becomes an incredibly high bar for expectation that always fall through.
and the festival music plays
and we swing to the beat
and you hold me close
and touch my hair
and wonder what it’s like to kiss me
and i wish you would stop wondering
and just do it
Once again I think I’ve done this one before. Probably due to a different word that makes this same song come to mind:
♫The King is holding a Festival! I wish to go to the festival! And the ball!
I miss my kingdom up in the sky…
More than anything…♫
That’s what comes into my head first. I could write about other festivals, of course, but my 60 seconds is up!
* AH HA! I’m right!!!! “Festival” was the word 10 days ago (2/1/12)! – Well at least I’m consistent.
A carnival is the best kind of festival celebration. There’s cotton candy, which I love, and rides. There’s also games, but they are usually rigged. I tend to go on lots of rides, even though they are pretty ghetto. But the food is by far the best part.
festivals are fun. okay that was an automatic thought. i dont know if i like festivals or not. i mean i hate crowds. i really do i feel so uncomfortable in them like everyone is looking at me and criticizing me. but of course considering my social anxiety i guess thats expected. but whatever. festival. ive been to festivals before. i think.at least my idea of what they are. fun. i guess.
We just had this prompt 11 days ago! What, did they think we wouldn’t notice, or have they jusy run out of interesting words?
Festival
This was the only time of year
The only of its kind
The festival was grand, like never before. They all ate and danced and told stories in the fires. No one could remember a better festival.
The Festival of Lights. How many years has it been since I’ve last celebrated? I can’t remember the last time… it’s my favourite “holiday”. The festival in which one gets to ignite fireworks, just like Victoria Day. I look forward to the next one.
There were many people at the festival as he hopped out of the car. Ponyies walked around, pigs squealed, and kids screamed. The sun beamed. Cotton Candy shone like stars, The food smelled great. This was going to be the best festival ever!
The festival was in full swing, the atmosphere was happy, cheerful and perfect that the thought of anything going wrong seemed unlikely. The fireworks burst in the air, the people cheered and drunken revelry ensued. They had no idea that tomorrow was going to mark the beginning of the end of the world.
it sthe day of the festival and i am with the boy of my dreams. He walk hand in nhand through the sand to the ferris wheel. As we move slowly he gazes into my eyes and it feels like we arent moving at all. The sand between my toes and the wind through my hair reminds me this vacation will not last forever and i will be stuff alone back in Wiconsin. The worst of this news is i will have to live without him.
A place where people celebrate and forget their cares. Or a place where people come to hawk their work and be judged by others. A festival is rarely as festive as it should be. People are the fabric of festivals, making them interesting or dull. My favorite kind of festival is the film festival…I like stories and people who make them.
All the neurons were at the festival. Some were eating sausages and watching the band play from up on the hill. Others were dancing down in front of the stage. Still others were getting the fire going, as it would soon be dark. All of them were firing, releasing neurotransmitters, and singing I AM I AM I AM.
Rushing wind while she glides through the air, She dances in unique outfits no one else dares to wear. She is the most beautiful vision they have ever seen , her mind in an altered state… a real life fantasy.
She was walking through the festival with all the scents and sounds around her. But she felt this presence that she couldn’t explain, as if someone was watching her, she turned, and there he was.
Festival of lights. A time to reflect. A time to remember those that we love. A time to remember those we have lost. A festival of love, life and memories.
There is a festival of lights and canopies over the Autumn night sky. The lights flicker off and on like fireflies flirting with the stars. Never before had her hair felt so free, and never before did his blue shirt shimmer so bright. There was a look, a pause, and a knowing, a before that need not to feel strung along by an unknown ending. Ubuntu.
the winter festival was in full swing when the gristly discovery was made. the fingers were splayed out in a a gesture that could have been called a wave. if they were attached to a hand. the eyes stared blankly into the distance, perhaps searching for the skull they once called home.
A crowd of people, positive energy flowing. Music. Commingling of food scents and smoke. Laughter rises up to the scattered clouds and bounces off the sparkling light.
No.
Party it up! she said and walked out the door. She had second thoughts, but they were only thoughts. She didn’t say them aloud; she was afraid they’d just pressure her into it anyway. So, heels on her feet, purse in her hand, she went through the door into the bar, and that’s the last thing she remembered.
There is a feeling of anticipation in the air, the aura of a carnival or a festival. The hope of good things, of joy and laughter, of memories made that would warm the heart for years to come.