I see the pine and the vine and I wanna be divine in a sea of refined forestry and the wondrous life cuts me like a knife and it puts me in strife to ever be denied such a wonderful life
walking through a forest… sunlight peeking through the trees… I’m treading a well-worn path traveled by countless thousands of people, unsure of where it goes but counting more on the journey than on the destination… Old trees surround me like old friends… Sheltering and protecting me.
Stephanie
The pinetree smelled almost like cinnamon, and also a brand new car. It was getting cold outside and my shoes weren’t waterproof in the snow. It was so icy, I took the tiniest steps possible to decrease the chances of me sliding down the driveway, bum against the ice. I could almost smell the fresh mail in the steel box.
Scythe42
the smell of pine when hunting 2 hours for the perfect Christmas tree is one of my favorite childhood memories. this will be another year without my family in search for the perfect tree. but i am happy.
Renae
needles and nuts smells good reminds me of grandma chirstin light colored with black spots, kinda like dalmation dogs, pine needle beatles eating up the forrests in colorado. Use these resources to make something productive. Christmas time smell, snow, flakes.
Anonymous
The sweet scent of pine fills the air as I walk through the mist and into the forest. It’s misty and the light of the sun is dimmed through the cloud cover, casting a magestical glow on through the canopy and on to the forest floor.
Shiina
The pine tree was covered with snow.
It was a cold winter morning.
How daft!
I am saying all the things that are supposed to be said
what i really wanna say is the scrat will come for the acorn!
so grow more pine!
Don’t let scrat go extint!!
s
the smell of pine hung in the air like i was surrounded by shriveled christmas trees instead of all of them, their jeering hyena faces with their bright pink gums showing above their yellowy teeth.
claireisalady@hotmail.com
chirstmas time, smells good, pillow at home, has needles, evergreen, what i used to say for fine when i was little, pining for someone, i cant spell now so thats about it really
Em
pining away at this shitty work. digging and searching for answers. why can’t it just be all laid out. why must i keep searching and searching. stupid pine.
~S
i’m pining for you in a way i never thought was entirely possible. mornings i wake up, still foggy from sleep, and think about the curve of your back and the pressure of your spine against your skin. it’s all fantasy, of course, all just my heart running away with reality, but it feels better to imagine you than i think it would to hold you close. in my mind your skin is perfectly soft; but today in the woodshop i saw acne at the base of your neck, sharp.
d elizabeth
oh how i pine fr pine, an analogy? no a fact, pine may be one of the sweetest scents upon this planet, leading me to think that the pine that is synonymous with crave is in fact related to this sweet smell, but i digress, so the nature of turtles…. next time
chum
pine. he pines a lot. i dont know whybut he smells like pine. therefore, he smells like christmas. pine trees! oh what a wonderful smell!
mary
the intense feeling of being a tree, full of branches and sadness. with little leaves poking out of you that are prickly and poke people so they can’t get near you.
Musafah
love
love is the mos wonderful thing in the world
oh, wait it’s pine.i didnt know i had to write about this word.
there is nothing special about this. although it makes me think of christmas. pine. wha
ana
pine. to desire so badly you wring your hands. you think you sweat. your breathing changes. an ache in the pit of your stomach that runs up your chest into your throat and closes your mouth so you can’t say a word.
leetotheanne
nuts, leaves and branches. All bring to mind a certain startling imagery and that intense smell memory of Christmas and exploring in the wintertime. Those fake green little air freshener trees that have grown faded and bundle together so awkwardly. I really can’t understand why they’ve made trees of so many colours now.
Casey
I pine for him.He pines for her.
Yes,and we all love pine tries.
I always guess “pine” when people say “trees”
Ah,I always do that.Look at me,I’m so sad.
Cry sob cry.
Als
He didn’t pine over anyone, or so he told himself. Rather, he just enjoyed the scenery in the back of that particular photograph that had her so scantily clad in the foreground. He wasn’t lusting, he wasn’t pining, and he certainly wasn’t falling in love with HER of all people.
Because that would just be silly. That would just be wrong, wrong of him anyway.
George.
Walking down the street, the pine trees decorated, sparkling, festive.
Atop a single tree, near the centre, illuminated by the icy blue Christmas lights, the solitary thrush pined for the mate lost in the winter blizzards. A forest of pines, of cheer, of twinkling lights and promises of feasts and gifts, of the single song of loneliness and the mournful carol of the lost.
Gleek
Pine trees. They’re so common, yet a lot about them goes against what you’d expect of a tree. Their leaves are like needles, and pinecodes are massive.
K
pine
Anonymous
The pine needles covered the carpet, getting stuck so months later we would still find the traces of christmas. They covered our presents, and for some reason I enjoyed pooling them together as my brother and I tried to guess what would be in each perfectly wrapped package.
Emma
pine needles
pining for needles
grew up rough
grew up sharp
walked away
opened out
folded over
god knows what.
Anonymous
pine needles
pining for needles
grew up rough
grew up sharp
walked away
opened out
folded over
god knows what.
Anonymous
I pine for you like
the way a bird misses
the nest like
the way the grass misses
the rain like
the way a tree watches
the sky.
Jennifer.
Sitting here, thinking of you. It is 2001 and as soon as you leave my house I pine for you. I cry when your car drives away and wish you were still standing next to me.
Kel
My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me. Tell me where did you sleep last night?
The snow pulls the branches down towards the hills. I think I may like this place.
r.a.
Oak. They belong together. The smell, the season, the age old trees of my youth.
Andrea Wagman-Christian
The heavy scent of pine effused throughout the area. It was almost as if the sweet, heady pine nectar had somehow gotten inside my nostrils, inundating my senses with their marvelous aroma. I breathed deeply, then sighed. I wished you were here.
vish
He loved the smell of pine trees — they reminded him of home, how the planks of the house smelled when they were new.
But the house was getting older now, the chinks between its boards wider and wider with age, and the smell of pine was faint if it was there at all.
That was all right, though. He wasn’t so young himself anymore, and where once he’d been frightened of death, now it seemed only an inevitability. Nothing to be frightened of — only something as natural as wind and water and the scent of a pine tree.
Nathan
Pine is the best smell. It reminds me of Christmas with the tree lit up and ornaments shining. Dad baking cookies in the kitchen while we play card games. I miss my family and Christmas is the best time to enjoy with them.
Me
Pine. It’s a type of tree. It’s a verb and a noun. And an adjective I guess. Yeah. They’re all covered. Am I pining? I don’t think so, I’m more functional than that. Do I like pine trees? Yes. Don’t like the smell that much, though.
Karin
As I travelled throughout the woods, I noticed many a tall pine tree looming overhead. I recalled climbing these when I was younger. The prickly needles sticking into my sides and hands as I clung to the branches, climbing ever higher. Of course, the trees were much smaller than these. Small firs that lived in our backyard.
Meta
Shillong. My life in India. Cold weather. Parents.
Rdas
wish
hope
fantasy
love the way i love
longing
longing
longing
never touching
always hoping
never enough
not now
not ever
when when when
never
queen.mern
cones always remind me of my walk back from the shops when I was a child. Someone once told me you could predict the weather using a cone. If it was open, it would rain if it was closed it would stay sunny.. not sure if its true though.
Shane Loake
under the bed,
‘neath the floor,
in our fingers,
under our nose.
it caught the ceiling–
because somebody told it how.
it caught the children–
because nobody told it how.
it caught the aching–
because it always knew how.
it caught our hearts–
because in our eyes,
all we could see was
the glint of what was last year.
I see the pine and the vine and I wanna be divine in a sea of refined forestry and the wondrous life cuts me like a knife and it puts me in strife to ever be denied such a wonderful life
tree, smell, yummy, winter skiing snow, fresh, mopped floors, sol, christmas candles, colorado, fresh air, dry tahoe summers, GREEN
tree
walking through a forest… sunlight peeking through the trees… I’m treading a well-worn path traveled by countless thousands of people, unsure of where it goes but counting more on the journey than on the destination… Old trees surround me like old friends… Sheltering and protecting me.
The pinetree smelled almost like cinnamon, and also a brand new car. It was getting cold outside and my shoes weren’t waterproof in the snow. It was so icy, I took the tiniest steps possible to decrease the chances of me sliding down the driveway, bum against the ice. I could almost smell the fresh mail in the steel box.
the smell of pine when hunting 2 hours for the perfect Christmas tree is one of my favorite childhood memories. this will be another year without my family in search for the perfect tree. but i am happy.
needles and nuts smells good reminds me of grandma chirstin light colored with black spots, kinda like dalmation dogs, pine needle beatles eating up the forrests in colorado. Use these resources to make something productive. Christmas time smell, snow, flakes.
The sweet scent of pine fills the air as I walk through the mist and into the forest. It’s misty and the light of the sun is dimmed through the cloud cover, casting a magestical glow on through the canopy and on to the forest floor.
The pine tree was covered with snow.
It was a cold winter morning.
How daft!
I am saying all the things that are supposed to be said
what i really wanna say is the scrat will come for the acorn!
so grow more pine!
Don’t let scrat go extint!!
the smell of pine hung in the air like i was surrounded by shriveled christmas trees instead of all of them, their jeering hyena faces with their bright pink gums showing above their yellowy teeth.
chirstmas time, smells good, pillow at home, has needles, evergreen, what i used to say for fine when i was little, pining for someone, i cant spell now so thats about it really
pining away at this shitty work. digging and searching for answers. why can’t it just be all laid out. why must i keep searching and searching. stupid pine.
i’m pining for you in a way i never thought was entirely possible. mornings i wake up, still foggy from sleep, and think about the curve of your back and the pressure of your spine against your skin. it’s all fantasy, of course, all just my heart running away with reality, but it feels better to imagine you than i think it would to hold you close. in my mind your skin is perfectly soft; but today in the woodshop i saw acne at the base of your neck, sharp.
oh how i pine fr pine, an analogy? no a fact, pine may be one of the sweetest scents upon this planet, leading me to think that the pine that is synonymous with crave is in fact related to this sweet smell, but i digress, so the nature of turtles…. next time
pine. he pines a lot. i dont know whybut he smells like pine. therefore, he smells like christmas. pine trees! oh what a wonderful smell!
the intense feeling of being a tree, full of branches and sadness. with little leaves poking out of you that are prickly and poke people so they can’t get near you.
love
love is the mos wonderful thing in the world
oh, wait it’s pine.i didnt know i had to write about this word.
there is nothing special about this. although it makes me think of christmas. pine. wha
pine. to desire so badly you wring your hands. you think you sweat. your breathing changes. an ache in the pit of your stomach that runs up your chest into your throat and closes your mouth so you can’t say a word.
nuts, leaves and branches. All bring to mind a certain startling imagery and that intense smell memory of Christmas and exploring in the wintertime. Those fake green little air freshener trees that have grown faded and bundle together so awkwardly. I really can’t understand why they’ve made trees of so many colours now.
I pine for him.He pines for her.
Yes,and we all love pine tries.
I always guess “pine” when people say “trees”
Ah,I always do that.Look at me,I’m so sad.
Cry sob cry.
He didn’t pine over anyone, or so he told himself. Rather, he just enjoyed the scenery in the back of that particular photograph that had her so scantily clad in the foreground. He wasn’t lusting, he wasn’t pining, and he certainly wasn’t falling in love with HER of all people.
Because that would just be silly. That would just be wrong, wrong of him anyway.
Walking down the street, the pine trees decorated, sparkling, festive.
Atop a single tree, near the centre, illuminated by the icy blue Christmas lights, the solitary thrush pined for the mate lost in the winter blizzards. A forest of pines, of cheer, of twinkling lights and promises of feasts and gifts, of the single song of loneliness and the mournful carol of the lost.
Pine trees. They’re so common, yet a lot about them goes against what you’d expect of a tree. Their leaves are like needles, and pinecodes are massive.
pine
The pine needles covered the carpet, getting stuck so months later we would still find the traces of christmas. They covered our presents, and for some reason I enjoyed pooling them together as my brother and I tried to guess what would be in each perfectly wrapped package.
pine needles
pining for needles
grew up rough
grew up sharp
walked away
opened out
folded over
god knows what.
pine needles
pining for needles
grew up rough
grew up sharp
walked away
opened out
folded over
god knows what.
I pine for you like
the way a bird misses
the nest like
the way the grass misses
the rain like
the way a tree watches
the sky.
Sitting here, thinking of you. It is 2001 and as soon as you leave my house I pine for you. I cry when your car drives away and wish you were still standing next to me.
My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me. Tell me where did you sleep last night?
The snow pulls the branches down towards the hills. I think I may like this place.
Oak. They belong together. The smell, the season, the age old trees of my youth.
The heavy scent of pine effused throughout the area. It was almost as if the sweet, heady pine nectar had somehow gotten inside my nostrils, inundating my senses with their marvelous aroma. I breathed deeply, then sighed. I wished you were here.
He loved the smell of pine trees — they reminded him of home, how the planks of the house smelled when they were new.
But the house was getting older now, the chinks between its boards wider and wider with age, and the smell of pine was faint if it was there at all.
That was all right, though. He wasn’t so young himself anymore, and where once he’d been frightened of death, now it seemed only an inevitability. Nothing to be frightened of — only something as natural as wind and water and the scent of a pine tree.
Pine is the best smell. It reminds me of Christmas with the tree lit up and ornaments shining. Dad baking cookies in the kitchen while we play card games. I miss my family and Christmas is the best time to enjoy with them.
Pine. It’s a type of tree. It’s a verb and a noun. And an adjective I guess. Yeah. They’re all covered. Am I pining? I don’t think so, I’m more functional than that. Do I like pine trees? Yes. Don’t like the smell that much, though.
As I travelled throughout the woods, I noticed many a tall pine tree looming overhead. I recalled climbing these when I was younger. The prickly needles sticking into my sides and hands as I clung to the branches, climbing ever higher. Of course, the trees were much smaller than these. Small firs that lived in our backyard.
Shillong. My life in India. Cold weather. Parents.
wish
hope
fantasy
love the way i love
longing
longing
longing
never touching
always hoping
never enough
not now
not ever
when when when
never
cones always remind me of my walk back from the shops when I was a child. Someone once told me you could predict the weather using a cone. If it was open, it would rain if it was closed it would stay sunny.. not sure if its true though.
under the bed,
‘neath the floor,
in our fingers,
under our nose.
it caught the ceiling–
because somebody told it how.
it caught the children–
because nobody told it how.
it caught the aching–
because it always knew how.
it caught our hearts–
because in our eyes,
all we could see was
the glint of what was last year.