Those things
At the top of their hats
In the progression
And we didn’t say
Anything
Which I don’t regret
I regret seeing the piece of chocolate
By your feet
And leaving it for you to find
Which you never did
You idiot
It was our favorite
And you let it bake and melt
Under the feeble
Wavering shade
Of their plumes
Liv
The sharp intake of breath transformed into salvation. He had a chance to survive. He could breathe! He just had to forget the pain pressuring its body, holding him down and quiet. His body should not feel like plumes. It should not feel floating upwards. Oh no. That was it. Maybe it had been too late.
Light.
Noise… cheers.
Or… maybe it was the rescue team. Maybe they were finally releasing his body from the mass of fallen rocks that captured him.
Once upon a time. There was a ghost that lived alone in a house across the way from another abandoned house occupied by another ghost… And this ghost was very interesting and attractive.
So our ghost and that ghost had a little ghost fling.
But it all changed once plumes of smoke came out of that ghost’s house’s chimney
hush sweet girl, there is no
fear, but a flower in the meadow
glistening, glowing, ghastly apparition.
And when I touch your face, do not weep
For fluent as my motions
May be, I come calmly, no harm
Intended.
Jason Ohono
(plumes)The skirt billowed out around her, like a princess floating on magical clouds filled with joy. She looked so damn happy. The crown wasn’t even worth anything. I bet they got it at Wal-Mart. All hail the prom queen.
What is a plume? I don’t know, but I will search Google for it. Actually, I know in French it means pen, like nom de plume, as in pen name. Can I have some plumes?
Plumes of feathers, rich, draping fabric, and plenty of food decorated the room.
Victoria
Scattered are the blue plumes throughout the yard.
Blue bird has an egg, blue bird’s wife keeps it warm.
Sticks, weeds and dirt thrown together to make a nest.
Little crafty bound angels just trekking though life.
Sit momma bird, sit.
Nest your baby,
I’ll protect you from harm.
feathers blowing in the wind. Peacock wants to show off. Mating season. colors and patterns dazzling psychedelic formations. ruffle
mark
He speaks, puffed up and pompous, long and winded without really saying anything. Her eyes drift to the side and out and open window. She gazes at little robin bird that pecks at the dirt, his bright red feathers contrasted against the brown dirt path.
ella
I held my head up and watched as the peacocks strutted along the line their plumage blindingly beautiful. Jealousy tore through me. I could never possess such grace.
CLaire
Colors she’d never imagined existed in nature obscured the sun. Vivid teals, emeralds, cobalts and golds, fluttered around her, bathed her in fluid light not unlike that of stained glass. She blinked, rubber her eyes. The peacocks had nested in her windowsill again.
I put my plume into the top of my shako. My marching band uniform was now complete. Soon, we would be lining up, getting ready for our special march. 100 years of tradition. Getting the audience pumped up. Ready to show them our amazing show. Hopefully not lose the football game. Again.
As I saw the plumes of smoke and ash being spewed out the fiery mountain on the television, I thought to myself “I was there. Just a year ago.”
Yas
Three large, red plumes of smoke gurgled from between the slats of the window – thick and bitter like dark, unsweetened chocolate; globs of chemicals as heavy as the puddles left by the river after a heavy storm. Paul had taken up smoking again, and he only picked the rarest tobacco.
Belinda Roddie
Plumes of smoke had filled the sky. The visitors all looked up as if something magnificent had taken place on the cold windy day in England. They knew then that that building was not just an old skeleton, but a living, breathing, being, awaiting the first explorers to enter its depths.
Jennifer
Birds, chicken, anything with feather. It means feather. I looked it up and that what it means.
Birds, with feathers, of course. To fly like a bird, soar high in the sky. Its plumes detaching in
the said bird.
Some of its plumes are used for pillows, jackets, and it’s becoming endangered. Feathers, they are light, and comfortable, many people love them. It is bad for the birds.
I found a feather in the water. My mother told me it belonged to a blue jay. I asked her if I should give it back but she said that he didn’t need it anymore. Birds are always loosing their feathers in flight. I wish I were a bird with beautiful feathers and a beautiful voice.
light as a feather, she was. Light and white and beautiful. Her laughter contained pearls in it, her smile the most precious material in the world. He needed her like birds needed feathers to fly- he needed her because she was part of him, and he would not be able to fly without her.
Juliana
What in the heck are plumes? Plumes are the hairs atop the hats of Romans. They could be purple or red or those were the more important colors. But remember that purple was hard to come by, so they mainly wore red. I am rather interested that one word chose plumes.
She dips the quill in the ink, black plume sticking upright. She puts the quill against the paper. She writes.
She doesn’t stop until she feels like she’s poured her soul onto the page–until every last bit, every succulent drop of desperation has left her body in a whoosh of emotion.
The varied colored plumes stuck out of her hat like peacock feathers which made her awkward stance even funnier. Gerty didn’t care. She liked how she looked; the masses be damned! Norman liked her too and that’s just about all she cared about. He not only liked her, he was head over heals in love with her.
I had embarrassment over needing to look up and verify such a word. She took me by surprise. At first I thought of sweet juices and the taste of her lips. But she was flocking colorful feathers in diction and I was caught up in the tender, soft look to her fingers.
He watched in silence as the Norwegian Blue swept gracefully across the sky, its deep, rich indigo plumes catching the morning sun. Sometimes, he smiled to himself, he actually liked being stranded on this godforsaken island!
tonykeyesjapan
I looked around the crowded supermarket. It smelled of old ladies and sweet plumes. I did a light smile and tucked my hair behind me.
“Young lady” a seller said to me.
“Yes?” I responded back.
“Would you like to sample a piece of my delicious bread.” the old women replied.
She looked as if me saying yes would make me the happiest person alive.
“Of course.” I said back to the nice lady.
I reached for the good looking bread. As soon as the beautiful creation hit my tongue, all was black.
Sydney
tasty, fruit, summer, warm weathe, sunny days, sea, having fun while eating plumes :D
sweet plumes…the end probably
Olha
I looked around the crowded supermarket. It smelled of old ladies and plsweet
Sydney
I think of french people and big hats but maybe these are feathers the man is fat and so is the lady and I think they are okay with that because they are old (not by our standards but by theirs) and also homely (by our standards and theirs) and I also read this and first started writing about plums. I think I wasn’t supposed to delete the part about plums but I did.
Kathryn
they shot out of the earth, deep red, orange, tinged with the black edge of hell or at least that’s what David said as we watched, stoned, from a ridge far back of the eruption.
On the horizon we could see plumes of smoke wafting into a serene, pale sky. The chaos of the day before now over, everything was still again.
martin b
Plumes. hmmmm, don’t you mean plums, I asked?
No, no, plumes. You know, the feather…
No. I don’t.
And that was the end of that.
JoJo
Plumes of thick, acrid smoke concealed the sky from sight in streaks of charcoal gray whilst flames of bright red and orange licked and hissed at the city’s center.
They are raising in the west and him with them while she’s left to suffer in the mire. The plumes of the ascended flutter in the wind, a horrible shade of jade with just the touch of…pink? She doesn’t know. She’s only from the east side where the only colors are shit and copper.
Ashley
Plumes of thick black smoke curled around him and blocked out the sun. He was dazed, but he had to find her. “Anna!”, he called again and again. No response. “What on earth will I tell her family? How can a secretary get into so many jams? I’m supposed to be the one who faces these situations all the time.” He wanted desperately to sit down, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get up again. What he really wanted was to wake up and find this all just a nasty nightmare. That’s what it felt like. Trembling, he stumbled on, hoping beyond reason that he would find her curled up behind some large box, waiting to be found. “What if I never even find her body?” He stood still for the first time since the explosion. All the blood left his face, then his countenance became cold and steely. The one thing he could not do was leave her here, dead or alive. He would search until he found her. He would not leave. Then a hoarse whisper reached his ears. “Daniel?”
Victoria
The smoke rose in plumes, mixing with the red-orange sky. The sun was just setting, but the fire was lighting up all faces in the area. There were no frowns, but no smiles either. We were just content to be here, with a group of people we could love.
Kayla
What are plumes? Are they plums? I don’t know but I really love plums. Just kidding, I’ve never tried plums. But they look good. Like purple pears
Shelby
of fire lash the sky
as the bonfire leaps into it zenith.
the birds know to avoid this flame
lest they join Icarus in his fall
to the scorched earth.
She walked through her garden as she did every morning. As she turned the bend, her peacock greeted her with his plumes arrayed beautifully for her to see
Those things
At the top of their hats
In the progression
And we didn’t say
Anything
Which I don’t regret
I regret seeing the piece of chocolate
By your feet
And leaving it for you to find
Which you never did
You idiot
It was our favorite
And you let it bake and melt
Under the feeble
Wavering shade
Of their plumes
The sharp intake of breath transformed into salvation. He had a chance to survive. He could breathe! He just had to forget the pain pressuring its body, holding him down and quiet. His body should not feel like plumes. It should not feel floating upwards. Oh no. That was it. Maybe it had been too late.
Light.
Noise… cheers.
Or… maybe it was the rescue team. Maybe they were finally releasing his body from the mass of fallen rocks that captured him.
Once upon a time. There was a ghost that lived alone in a house across the way from another abandoned house occupied by another ghost… And this ghost was very interesting and attractive.
So our ghost and that ghost had a little ghost fling.
But it all changed once plumes of smoke came out of that ghost’s house’s chimney
hush sweet girl, there is no
fear, but a flower in the meadow
glistening, glowing, ghastly apparition.
And when I touch your face, do not weep
For fluent as my motions
May be, I come calmly, no harm
Intended.
(plumes)The skirt billowed out around her, like a princess floating on magical clouds filled with joy. She looked so damn happy. The crown wasn’t even worth anything. I bet they got it at Wal-Mart. All hail the prom queen.
What is a plume? I don’t know, but I will search Google for it. Actually, I know in French it means pen, like nom de plume, as in pen name. Can I have some plumes?
Plumes of feathers, rich, draping fabric, and plenty of food decorated the room.
Scattered are the blue plumes throughout the yard.
Blue bird has an egg, blue bird’s wife keeps it warm.
Sticks, weeds and dirt thrown together to make a nest.
Little crafty bound angels just trekking though life.
Sit momma bird, sit.
Nest your baby,
I’ll protect you from harm.
feathers blowing in the wind. Peacock wants to show off. Mating season. colors and patterns dazzling psychedelic formations. ruffle
He speaks, puffed up and pompous, long and winded without really saying anything. Her eyes drift to the side and out and open window. She gazes at little robin bird that pecks at the dirt, his bright red feathers contrasted against the brown dirt path.
I held my head up and watched as the peacocks strutted along the line their plumage blindingly beautiful. Jealousy tore through me. I could never possess such grace.
Colors she’d never imagined existed in nature obscured the sun. Vivid teals, emeralds, cobalts and golds, fluttered around her, bathed her in fluid light not unlike that of stained glass. She blinked, rubber her eyes. The peacocks had nested in her windowsill again.
I put my plume into the top of my shako. My marching band uniform was now complete. Soon, we would be lining up, getting ready for our special march. 100 years of tradition. Getting the audience pumped up. Ready to show them our amazing show. Hopefully not lose the football game. Again.
As I saw the plumes of smoke and ash being spewed out the fiery mountain on the television, I thought to myself “I was there. Just a year ago.”
Three large, red plumes of smoke gurgled from between the slats of the window – thick and bitter like dark, unsweetened chocolate; globs of chemicals as heavy as the puddles left by the river after a heavy storm. Paul had taken up smoking again, and he only picked the rarest tobacco.
Plumes of smoke had filled the sky. The visitors all looked up as if something magnificent had taken place on the cold windy day in England. They knew then that that building was not just an old skeleton, but a living, breathing, being, awaiting the first explorers to enter its depths.
Birds, chicken, anything with feather. It means feather. I looked it up and that what it means.
Birds, with feathers, of course. To fly like a bird, soar high in the sky. Its plumes detaching in
the said bird.
Some of its plumes are used for pillows, jackets, and it’s becoming endangered. Feathers, they are light, and comfortable, many people love them. It is bad for the birds.
I found a feather in the water. My mother told me it belonged to a blue jay. I asked her if I should give it back but she said that he didn’t need it anymore. Birds are always loosing their feathers in flight. I wish I were a bird with beautiful feathers and a beautiful voice.
light as a feather, she was. Light and white and beautiful. Her laughter contained pearls in it, her smile the most precious material in the world. He needed her like birds needed feathers to fly- he needed her because she was part of him, and he would not be able to fly without her.
What in the heck are plumes? Plumes are the hairs atop the hats of Romans. They could be purple or red or those were the more important colors. But remember that purple was hard to come by, so they mainly wore red. I am rather interested that one word chose plumes.
She dips the quill in the ink, black plume sticking upright. She puts the quill against the paper. She writes.
She doesn’t stop until she feels like she’s poured her soul onto the page–until every last bit, every succulent drop of desperation has left her body in a whoosh of emotion.
The varied colored plumes stuck out of her hat like peacock feathers which made her awkward stance even funnier. Gerty didn’t care. She liked how she looked; the masses be damned! Norman liked her too and that’s just about all she cared about. He not only liked her, he was head over heals in love with her.
I had embarrassment over needing to look up and verify such a word. She took me by surprise. At first I thought of sweet juices and the taste of her lips. But she was flocking colorful feathers in diction and I was caught up in the tender, soft look to her fingers.
He watched in silence as the Norwegian Blue swept gracefully across the sky, its deep, rich indigo plumes catching the morning sun. Sometimes, he smiled to himself, he actually liked being stranded on this godforsaken island!
I looked around the crowded supermarket. It smelled of old ladies and sweet plumes. I did a light smile and tucked my hair behind me.
“Young lady” a seller said to me.
“Yes?” I responded back.
“Would you like to sample a piece of my delicious bread.” the old women replied.
She looked as if me saying yes would make me the happiest person alive.
“Of course.” I said back to the nice lady.
I reached for the good looking bread. As soon as the beautiful creation hit my tongue, all was black.
tasty, fruit, summer, warm weathe, sunny days, sea, having fun while eating plumes :D
sweet plumes…the end probably
I looked around the crowded supermarket. It smelled of old ladies and plsweet
I think of french people and big hats but maybe these are feathers the man is fat and so is the lady and I think they are okay with that because they are old (not by our standards but by theirs) and also homely (by our standards and theirs) and I also read this and first started writing about plums. I think I wasn’t supposed to delete the part about plums but I did.
they shot out of the earth, deep red, orange, tinged with the black edge of hell or at least that’s what David said as we watched, stoned, from a ridge far back of the eruption.
On the horizon we could see plumes of smoke wafting into a serene, pale sky. The chaos of the day before now over, everything was still again.
Plumes. hmmmm, don’t you mean plums, I asked?
No, no, plumes. You know, the feather…
No. I don’t.
And that was the end of that.
Plumes of thick, acrid smoke concealed the sky from sight in streaks of charcoal gray whilst flames of bright red and orange licked and hissed at the city’s center.
They are raising in the west and him with them while she’s left to suffer in the mire. The plumes of the ascended flutter in the wind, a horrible shade of jade with just the touch of…pink? She doesn’t know. She’s only from the east side where the only colors are shit and copper.
Plumes of thick black smoke curled around him and blocked out the sun. He was dazed, but he had to find her. “Anna!”, he called again and again. No response. “What on earth will I tell her family? How can a secretary get into so many jams? I’m supposed to be the one who faces these situations all the time.” He wanted desperately to sit down, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get up again. What he really wanted was to wake up and find this all just a nasty nightmare. That’s what it felt like. Trembling, he stumbled on, hoping beyond reason that he would find her curled up behind some large box, waiting to be found. “What if I never even find her body?” He stood still for the first time since the explosion. All the blood left his face, then his countenance became cold and steely. The one thing he could not do was leave her here, dead or alive. He would search until he found her. He would not leave. Then a hoarse whisper reached his ears. “Daniel?”
The smoke rose in plumes, mixing with the red-orange sky. The sun was just setting, but the fire was lighting up all faces in the area. There were no frowns, but no smiles either. We were just content to be here, with a group of people we could love.
What are plumes? Are they plums? I don’t know but I really love plums. Just kidding, I’ve never tried plums. But they look good. Like purple pears
of fire lash the sky
as the bonfire leaps into it zenith.
the birds know to avoid this flame
lest they join Icarus in his fall
to the scorched earth.
We were watching all the lovely bird life in this fascinating hot country. The really colourful plumes were radiant.
She walked through her garden as she did every morning. As she turned the bend, her peacock greeted her with his plumes arrayed beautifully for her to see
spouting, fresh, water, force, whales, power, feathers, preening