Octopus, since when, your plural is so evasive. Is it octopuses? Octopi? Octopodes? Whatever the proper, you hold a special place in my heart, which you inhabit mercillesly, like a neverending storm of fire and also squirrels. Creeping along the sea floor inside of a magazine cover, hand-in-hand with the sultan of a far-off district of a country of sand of scorpions of fatal poison.
The eight armed being reached out and smothered the little fish, suffocating it in its grasp. The anger of the sea creatures was great, and their wrath bubbled through the surrounding waters.
Mmmmm… delicious with sushi rice ^-^ I want sushi!
Patty
Everytime I see the word “octopus” I think of the Beatles. Ringo wrote a song about how octopi like to find shiny things and bring them to the cave in which they take residence and leave them in the “garden.” Guess what it’s called.
She couldn’t think of the right word. It didn’t watch her, that sounded scary, like the dolls who sit in little girl’s rooms in the previews for horror movies. It didn’t nurture her–that was the job of a parent, and that it certainly wasn’t.
It had always been there. How, or when, or who had put it there, on the edge of the chair, she didn’t know. It sat.
She loved the way the plush purple changed if you rubbed it in a certain direction. Like the chairs in old theatres.
She loved the way she knew she could depend upon an old stuffed octopus, sitting in the corner, not watching, not asking. Just being.
E
Purple lengths reach seagreen hairs
and dig.
Puffs of thought, like ink blots,
stain the sea.
But no creature swims through
these inkthoughts
And so do they count?
The octopus contemplates
why he is lonely.
His tentacles have found seaweed,
Does that count?
As a friend?
Julia
seriously? what am i supposed to write about an octopus? the only thing we have in common is water…
The octopus that lived in my bath took up too much room. So I lifted it out, chopped its legs off and froze it in tiny bags. Now I’m sick of octopus. Serves me right.
The octopus’ tentacles floated with the waves creating an illusion of an invitation one would be foolish to resist. And I swore I saw him sit down at a round like table with one leg and offer me a stool to sit and share his tea.
His name was Billy, my little octopus. He was red and pink and fluffy. oh I loved him so. He got lost on our way to Kansas. No body knows where to find him except for that old lady who looked like she’d been crying but smiled as she waved goodbye.
Kristina
The octopus had 8 legs. Each one of them wearing a different boot. He had spent month collecting them as they fell from the gods above, but his collection was finally complete.
jenn-
sex shops they have this fetish about octopus. the tentacles making people turn into a mess of things touching, some sensuality that is over the border.
The octopus tangled its arms around the passing ship, trapping it in his grasp forever. The men aboard screamed. He smiled devilishly, and slowly squeezed the life out of them.
Kelli
the octopus has so many arms.. he can do so much. i am so limited in my own body. make use of yourself, octopus.
angeline
I cram myself into a bottle that is much smaller than myself, just like an octopus.
mike
Like an octopus, he was all arms, hitting me from what seemed like eight directions at once. I didn’t know how, but I knew I had to get him to quit hitting me. But as the gunshot rang out, I realized I didn’t have to. She shot him before I had a chance to.
Doug McIntire
Have you ever been on a date with an octopus? You know what I’m talking about…the guy with eight arms, all over you the entire time. I once had one of those at a drive-in. I eventually got to the point where I grabbed the car horn and blared away on it until he finally took his hands—all 8 of them—off me.
Andie
Octopus. Octopi. Octopuses. I stared at my blank exam. How was I supposed to remember how to pluralize it, and when was I ever going to use this? I let out a sigh, more audibly than intended. “Psst” I looked up at the boy next to me who gave me a smile and mouthed the syllable “-es” I smiled back.
Octopus… I wish I had 8 legs like you. Life would be so easy with 8 legs, I could be on the cross country team! And if I lost, I could hide my shame in a cloud of ink…
Octopus, since when, your plural is so evasive. Is it octopuses? Octopi? Octopodes? Whatever the proper, you hold a special place in my heart, which you inhabit mercillesly, like a neverending storm of fire and also squirrels. Creeping along the sea floor inside of a magazine cover, hand-in-hand with the sultan of a far-off district of a country of sand of scorpions of fatal poison.
… … … octopus?
The eight armed being reached out and smothered the little fish, suffocating it in its grasp. The anger of the sea creatures was great, and their wrath bubbled through the surrounding waters.
Mmmmm… delicious with sushi rice ^-^ I want sushi!
Everytime I see the word “octopus” I think of the Beatles. Ringo wrote a song about how octopi like to find shiny things and bring them to the cave in which they take residence and leave them in the “garden.” Guess what it’s called.
She couldn’t think of the right word. It didn’t watch her, that sounded scary, like the dolls who sit in little girl’s rooms in the previews for horror movies. It didn’t nurture her–that was the job of a parent, and that it certainly wasn’t.
It had always been there. How, or when, or who had put it there, on the edge of the chair, she didn’t know. It sat.
She loved the way the plush purple changed if you rubbed it in a certain direction. Like the chairs in old theatres.
She loved the way she knew she could depend upon an old stuffed octopus, sitting in the corner, not watching, not asking. Just being.
Purple lengths reach seagreen hairs
and dig.
Puffs of thought, like ink blots,
stain the sea.
But no creature swims through
these inkthoughts
And so do they count?
The octopus contemplates
why he is lonely.
His tentacles have found seaweed,
Does that count?
As a friend?
seriously? what am i supposed to write about an octopus? the only thing we have in common is water…
The octopus that lived in my bath took up too much room. So I lifted it out, chopped its legs off and froze it in tiny bags. Now I’m sick of octopus. Serves me right.
The octopus’ tentacles floated with the waves creating an illusion of an invitation one would be foolish to resist. And I swore I saw him sit down at a round like table with one leg and offer me a stool to sit and share his tea.
His name was Billy, my little octopus. He was red and pink and fluffy. oh I loved him so. He got lost on our way to Kansas. No body knows where to find him except for that old lady who looked like she’d been crying but smiled as she waved goodbye.
The octopus had 8 legs. Each one of them wearing a different boot. He had spent month collecting them as they fell from the gods above, but his collection was finally complete.
sex shops they have this fetish about octopus. the tentacles making people turn into a mess of things touching, some sensuality that is over the border.
The octopus tangled its arms around the passing ship, trapping it in his grasp forever. The men aboard screamed. He smiled devilishly, and slowly squeezed the life out of them.
the octopus has so many arms.. he can do so much. i am so limited in my own body. make use of yourself, octopus.
I cram myself into a bottle that is much smaller than myself, just like an octopus.
Like an octopus, he was all arms, hitting me from what seemed like eight directions at once. I didn’t know how, but I knew I had to get him to quit hitting me. But as the gunshot rang out, I realized I didn’t have to. She shot him before I had a chance to.
Have you ever been on a date with an octopus? You know what I’m talking about…the guy with eight arms, all over you the entire time. I once had one of those at a drive-in. I eventually got to the point where I grabbed the car horn and blared away on it until he finally took his hands—all 8 of them—off me.
Octopus. Octopi. Octopuses. I stared at my blank exam. How was I supposed to remember how to pluralize it, and when was I ever going to use this? I let out a sigh, more audibly than intended. “Psst” I looked up at the boy next to me who gave me a smile and mouthed the syllable “-es” I smiled back.
Octopus… I wish I had 8 legs like you. Life would be so easy with 8 legs, I could be on the cross country team! And if I lost, I could hide my shame in a cloud of ink…