I need to nourish the soul so it doesn’t die but it will die if it doesn’t get words so there must be nourishment somewhere. Where to find it is the key and to look for it is the plan, but finding can be difficult. Hunting is the only way so we must hit the streets and not stop, walk until the sun goes down and slap our feet against the pavement in search of nourishment for our souls. For our minds. For our hearts. It’s out there, we must find it.
Caroline Josephine
I want nourish you because you are hurt-because people hurt you. Your insides want to cave in from human emotions. You feel as if your throat is wrapped around in chains. It is being pulled every minute, every hour, everyday, every week. Your eyes are red. There are tears forming on the edges, but they are not rolling down your cheeks. I want to nourish you because you are breaking. I can see the cracks.
tani
I matted down his hair, picking a few bugs off his head. He sat in front of me happily munching on a twig of termites I had showed him how to find. I gazed at him fondly, hoping he would always be well nourished.
Shruti
I thought about kids who’d starved today. Kids I had no way of helping. I wondered if I should feel guilty. Guilty that I’d spent exorbitant amounts of money on things I didn’t need. Wasted food. Wasted resources. Wasted things that could’ve easily been used to help them.
Jed
my fingers outline the bones beneath my skin, the crevasses of my ribs and the mountains of my spine. there is no flesh here, no meat–no place for nourishment in beauty.
nourish.
i think of companies selling creams to soothe the skin, special waters with added vitamins and divine-smelling shampoos to hydrate your hair.
there are too many things trying to make us more beautiful than we already are. if we go too far we actually lose who we naturally were, in a sense. it makes me sad.
Growing up I have always been well nourished. There has never been a minute when I have had to go with out. My mother always made sure that I had what I needed and as I grew older I began to see how thankful I should have been for all of the countless effort she had made.
Nourishment. A mother nourishes a new born. Unlike my sister, who instead was a druggie and is still in jail. My niece is now 10. and an annoying little brat who was raised wrong. She wasn’t nourished.
It was cold out. The sun nowhere to be found, the sky draped in gray curtains. There would be no nourishment coming, not from the sun, not from her family.
My under eye circles. Becoming smaller, my mother says and I look at myself and the grayness and its depth is becoming light brown again, the color of my skin. I need to sleep better and eat better, my mother says. Cut down on the ice, she says when I clear my throat.
As I passed through the kitchen I swiped a ripe pear, taking a juicy bite into the fruit’s green flesh. I thought about how healthy and good this pear was, and what nutrients that it provided me. This also reminded me of the love that I lacked, and while my physical body was getting the nourishment that it sought out, my heart was about to dry out.
The young boy stared up, unsure of what to do. The man was different from all the others he had met. He was taller, wearing a suit, and holding out some kind of paper bag. It had two arches in the shape of an ‘M’ on its front. The man ordered him to take it. The boy did. The man nodded and walked away, leaving the boy alone in the alleyway with his bag.
It wasn’t going to give him a home, but at least he had enough food to stay alive.
The rain pours down and fills the soil, pulling nutrients, filling me up with the nourishment that pushes me closer to the sky closer to the ever giving sunlight that I so desperately crave, the one way of reaching that which makes it all worth it. That nourishment I need, that nourishment that means it all.
George
The soil was placed in the hole. With the small seed-like objects that were thrown in, it was certain to nourish the small bush. It was a sweet-scented bush and it’s flowers, when they bloomed, were known to be some of the most colourful.
The kit nursed at the bottle, warm in her arms. The little one often whined at any contact, but never with her, and never while being fed. She sang softly and rocked her little one.
to nourish the thoughts of creativity an atmosphere of harmony is a must. a cohesive environment not only helps ideas blossom but it also makes way for new ideas to come through shared experiences. a disruptive environment, factually, malnourishes the the very root of imagination.
Omkar Thakur
It was a nourishing environment, they said. ABC’s and 1-2-3’s, new friends, healthy snacks, caring adults watching our baby’s every move.
It flourished, unchecked and ignored, for several years in her heart. It was fed by her envious thoughts and hateful intentions, hungrily turning dark leaves to gather up as much of its caustic nourishment as possible. After its first year in existance, it transformed from a bloody red rock-like bulb, sending up shadowy stalks in the confines of her chest. Deep-set branching roots followed the year after, creeping sinewy anchors into her surrounding organs until, dissatisfied, slowly winding themselves up her spinal column. The third year offered weedy red flowers, pulsating and thorny and poisonous to touch. The ragged red blossoms finally bore their shriveled black fruit in the fourth year, made hard and bitter through her discontent.
What had started as a little spore of self-doubt had grown into a wild meadow in her heart, deep-rooted, fostering dependence, and deeply ingrained into her very being.
nourish. kids take time to nourish. you have to feed them as they grow, buy them clothes, and be there for them when they are struggling. they need time to understand what their priorities are in life. they need to see that the world doesn’t revolve around them and there are other people the can help.
His mother unbuttoned her blouse to reveal a heaving, ample bosom. Nipples alert and ready, life saving nourishment that would restore his fragile imbalance. The only trouble is, Tim was 42 years old. He shielded his eyes in disgust.
this is a different type of nourishment.
This is not made for your body
This is for your mind.
Breathe deep.
Eyes open.
Clear your mind.
Nourish every part of your soul.
Nourish every crazy idea and every impossible, improbable thought
Megan
I have un-nourished my creativity at this point. I love this.
I feed my blody slowly, not with food, but the usual. Anger, jealousy. I hate that I do this. but it happens every time.
Megan Durbin
nature. a softly bubbling creek. green. sunlight streaming through the shadows. pure blue skies beyond the branches. tiny sprouts and towering trees. and i am in the middle of it all. and it refreshes my body and soul.
katie
He gazed upon her, nourished to the bone with the promises that one day she could drink in his love the way he drank in her beauty. He needed no water, no food, her prosperity was his sustenance. And he adored her for feeding him in the way he had starved for so very long.
AV
she was on the ground
laying
head in her arms
ribs showing through
her skin
malnourished
she was
weak
alone
no one would
help her
left there to
die
malnourished
this poor
small
innocent
child
carrying the
heaviest
woe
death is
upon her
the sunlight glimmered as she tossed her hair over a slightly damp shoulder. if only the morning’s dew would last. she sighed, her thick tongue parched from the previous night. and the night before that. and that. if only she could remember where her mother took her. the place with water. the place with hope.
The taste of love gave me the nourishment to give it another chance. I tasted it again and its power nourished by soul giving flight to the waves of sexual tension; inside.
Zach Pauly
The children stood before me, thin and malnourished. You couldn’t look at these kids without feeling something. I wanted to rip open a pound of rice and feed it to just one kid. I couldn’t do that though. We had to ration the little food we had to give. How could so many people overlook this?
DreamerGirl
I try to give my body what it needs, food, water, exercise. But it’s so hard to keep up. How am I supposed to stay well nourished, and in good physical health when 1. I am allergic to everything, and 2. I have no time to sit down and prepare a nice healthy meal. I can;t eat most healthy things, even granola bars are a nono. So tell me, what am I to do?
Wer Hass nährt, lässt die Liebe hungern.
Enriching. Food for my soul. Conversation. Education. Music with a purpose.
I needed food to nourish me; but all I felt like eating was junk food. The doctor had warned me about me diet but I didn’t care now she had gone.
nourish is an entirely positive word.
sigh,
soft soft
hand against mine, mother eve pressing
the fruit of life
to my
lips
(the sky rings blue and the harvest is good, again)
I need to nourish the soul so it doesn’t die but it will die if it doesn’t get words so there must be nourishment somewhere. Where to find it is the key and to look for it is the plan, but finding can be difficult. Hunting is the only way so we must hit the streets and not stop, walk until the sun goes down and slap our feet against the pavement in search of nourishment for our souls. For our minds. For our hearts. It’s out there, we must find it.
I want nourish you because you are hurt-because people hurt you. Your insides want to cave in from human emotions. You feel as if your throat is wrapped around in chains. It is being pulled every minute, every hour, everyday, every week. Your eyes are red. There are tears forming on the edges, but they are not rolling down your cheeks. I want to nourish you because you are breaking. I can see the cracks.
I matted down his hair, picking a few bugs off his head. He sat in front of me happily munching on a twig of termites I had showed him how to find. I gazed at him fondly, hoping he would always be well nourished.
I thought about kids who’d starved today. Kids I had no way of helping. I wondered if I should feel guilty. Guilty that I’d spent exorbitant amounts of money on things I didn’t need. Wasted food. Wasted resources. Wasted things that could’ve easily been used to help them.
my fingers outline the bones beneath my skin, the crevasses of my ribs and the mountains of my spine. there is no flesh here, no meat–no place for nourishment in beauty.
nourish.
i think of companies selling creams to soothe the skin, special waters with added vitamins and divine-smelling shampoos to hydrate your hair.
there are too many things trying to make us more beautiful than we already are. if we go too far we actually lose who we naturally were, in a sense. it makes me sad.
Growing up I have always been well nourished. There has never been a minute when I have had to go with out. My mother always made sure that I had what I needed and as I grew older I began to see how thankful I should have been for all of the countless effort she had made.
Nourishment. A mother nourishes a new born. Unlike my sister, who instead was a druggie and is still in jail. My niece is now 10. and an annoying little brat who was raised wrong. She wasn’t nourished.
It was cold out. The sun nowhere to be found, the sky draped in gray curtains. There would be no nourishment coming, not from the sun, not from her family.
One can’t even be sure what to or not to consume, seeking nourishment. where are our standards and why have we been forsaken?
My under eye circles. Becoming smaller, my mother says and I look at myself and the grayness and its depth is becoming light brown again, the color of my skin. I need to sleep better and eat better, my mother says. Cut down on the ice, she says when I clear my throat.
As I passed through the kitchen I swiped a ripe pear, taking a juicy bite into the fruit’s green flesh. I thought about how healthy and good this pear was, and what nutrients that it provided me. This also reminded me of the love that I lacked, and while my physical body was getting the nourishment that it sought out, my heart was about to dry out.
The young boy stared up, unsure of what to do. The man was different from all the others he had met. He was taller, wearing a suit, and holding out some kind of paper bag. It had two arches in the shape of an ‘M’ on its front. The man ordered him to take it. The boy did. The man nodded and walked away, leaving the boy alone in the alleyway with his bag.
It wasn’t going to give him a home, but at least he had enough food to stay alive.
The rain pours down and fills the soil, pulling nutrients, filling me up with the nourishment that pushes me closer to the sky closer to the ever giving sunlight that I so desperately crave, the one way of reaching that which makes it all worth it. That nourishment I need, that nourishment that means it all.
The soil was placed in the hole. With the small seed-like objects that were thrown in, it was certain to nourish the small bush. It was a sweet-scented bush and it’s flowers, when they bloomed, were known to be some of the most colourful.
The kit nursed at the bottle, warm in her arms. The little one often whined at any contact, but never with her, and never while being fed. She sang softly and rocked her little one.
to nourish the thoughts of creativity an atmosphere of harmony is a must. a cohesive environment not only helps ideas blossom but it also makes way for new ideas to come through shared experiences. a disruptive environment, factually, malnourishes the the very root of imagination.
It was a nourishing environment, they said. ABC’s and 1-2-3’s, new friends, healthy snacks, caring adults watching our baby’s every move.
It flourished, unchecked and ignored, for several years in her heart. It was fed by her envious thoughts and hateful intentions, hungrily turning dark leaves to gather up as much of its caustic nourishment as possible. After its first year in existance, it transformed from a bloody red rock-like bulb, sending up shadowy stalks in the confines of her chest. Deep-set branching roots followed the year after, creeping sinewy anchors into her surrounding organs until, dissatisfied, slowly winding themselves up her spinal column. The third year offered weedy red flowers, pulsating and thorny and poisonous to touch. The ragged red blossoms finally bore their shriveled black fruit in the fourth year, made hard and bitter through her discontent.
What had started as a little spore of self-doubt had grown into a wild meadow in her heart, deep-rooted, fostering dependence, and deeply ingrained into her very being.
i need some time,
a mental vacation
to completely nourish
my soul.
i don’t want to go back
to who i was.
i don’t want to drown
in this sadness.
Her mother’s breast millk
pouring into an open mouth
salty and sweet
pure
full of nutrients needed for a healthy mind to grow
and grow
and grow
until there is another mother
and another baby
nature vs. nuture
so clearly at work
nourishing.
nourish. kids take time to nourish. you have to feed them as they grow, buy them clothes, and be there for them when they are struggling. they need time to understand what their priorities are in life. they need to see that the world doesn’t revolve around them and there are other people the can help.
His mother unbuttoned her blouse to reveal a heaving, ample bosom. Nipples alert and ready, life saving nourishment that would restore his fragile imbalance. The only trouble is, Tim was 42 years old. He shielded his eyes in disgust.
Through my own two hand can I nourish my mind…
this is a different type of nourishment.
This is not made for your body
This is for your mind.
Breathe deep.
Eyes open.
Clear your mind.
Nourish every part of your soul.
Nourish every crazy idea and every impossible, improbable thought
I have un-nourished my creativity at this point. I love this.
i dived heart-first and found delight
somewhere six-feet down all covered in dirt,
let my body decay and in death
give life to the earth. i nourish.
I feed my blody slowly, not with food, but the usual. Anger, jealousy. I hate that I do this. but it happens every time.
nature. a softly bubbling creek. green. sunlight streaming through the shadows. pure blue skies beyond the branches. tiny sprouts and towering trees. and i am in the middle of it all. and it refreshes my body and soul.
He gazed upon her, nourished to the bone with the promises that one day she could drink in his love the way he drank in her beauty. He needed no water, no food, her prosperity was his sustenance. And he adored her for feeding him in the way he had starved for so very long.
she was on the ground
laying
head in her arms
ribs showing through
her skin
malnourished
she was
weak
alone
no one would
help her
left there to
die
malnourished
this poor
small
innocent
child
carrying the
heaviest
woe
death is
upon her
the sunlight glimmered as she tossed her hair over a slightly damp shoulder. if only the morning’s dew would last. she sighed, her thick tongue parched from the previous night. and the night before that. and that. if only she could remember where her mother took her. the place with water. the place with hope.
The taste of love gave me the nourishment to give it another chance. I tasted it again and its power nourished by soul giving flight to the waves of sexual tension; inside.
The children stood before me, thin and malnourished. You couldn’t look at these kids without feeling something. I wanted to rip open a pound of rice and feed it to just one kid. I couldn’t do that though. We had to ration the little food we had to give. How could so many people overlook this?
I try to give my body what it needs, food, water, exercise. But it’s so hard to keep up. How am I supposed to stay well nourished, and in good physical health when 1. I am allergic to everything, and 2. I have no time to sit down and prepare a nice healthy meal. I can;t eat most healthy things, even granola bars are a nono. So tell me, what am I to do?