The puddles covered the road, creating mirages. Small drops of rain fell onto these pools of water, disturbing their still surfaces. A child in the distance jumps into a puddle. Water and mud splashes up onto her yellow raincoat. She laughs with glee, the noise tinkling, creating echoes in the silence.
Shruti
I was standing in the puddle. I was frozen with emotion. The rain was dripping down my face and my shoes were filling with water. I didn’t care where I was at that moment all I wanted was to not see what I just saw. I didn’t want to hear what I just heard… but I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to stay where I was… in that puddle, waiting for something good to happen. Waiting for him to come back.
puddles of gasoline rainbows, puddles of rain, of mud, of sand, of grass. i always liked how the clouds drifted across the surface of the water, like you could just as easily reach out and touch them like cotton candy.
Something about the way your eyes melt when they lock with mine, it’s like staring at a reflection, but unlike the static glass of a mirror, it’s moving, they’re searching. Where are you going? I’m right here and there’s nothing else in this world but the two pools, moving like water, showing me only the hints of the deeper end into your you. I could get lost in them, even drown under, just don’t stop, promise me you won’t give up treading this world with me.
A puddle on the ground… After a rainy day passed us by. A reminder of what was..Sun rays dance across the ground… Just as a fading memory.. gone is the puddle.
I recently made the mistake of using a restroom in a gas station. After I had finished washing my hands, heading for the door, I found myself falling and creating a rather painful body-floor collision. It seems that I had slipped on–and landed in–a puddle.
So, it seems the frigid layer of ice surrounding your heart has finally melted? Good to hear. Leave it in a puddle by the door–it’s not like either of us have any use for it.
puddle of mud should be a puddle of chocolate pudding like we all lived in Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. I don’t want meatballs in my puddle of chocolate; I’d rather have meatballs in a puddle of marinara and mozarella. OOh, 3 m’s. but not sticky like tape. sticky like gooey yummy good. like chocolate lpudding. I mean puddle.
Rhonda
You left your smokey puddles in my house the last time you were here. I can dance within your essence until it dissipates into the air. I can see your blinding smile, twinkling eyes, and postured body reflecting on the surface. I see your lips moving but I can’t hear your angelic voice piercing the stale air with valor. I hope you return to turn these puddles into pools, those pools into an ocean, and then remaining here in permanence.
Desiree
You spill your cereal and now there’s a puddle of milk and lucky charms on the floor and I want to scream at you, because I’m tired of taking care of you and cleaning up after you and making sure you don’t lock your keys in your car. When are you going to start taking care of me?
The water gathered so perfectly on the driveway and he just had to…had to…had to jump in and make the biggest splash he possibly could. Sure, the puddle would be gone afterward. But it was worth it.
Bethany
the puddle was formed by a great painter who had splashed his cool, clear paintbrush at the floor. Seemed a shame to waste such a work of art so Silvie put her foot into it and kept the water safely in her socks.
Amy Tipler
The galaxy shined on the print of her silk gown, as she reflected in the puddle glazed with cherry blossoms.
She woke up with a start, wondering instantly how she could have been near that fountain in Nancy, France. Where did that come from? Why was she crying in the dream? Then she remembered the puddles of memory, the lost cause that was her career, the ancient tolling
Babette
I feel like my body could just melt down into a dark, bloody puddle on the floor. everything in me feels like it’s breaking, shattering to a point where the cells no longer hold themselves together, effectively liquifying all thoughts or dreams or feeling or touches i’ve ever had or shared.
Anna
I’ll throw my penny in a puddle. Because my wish isn’t worthy of a fountain.
I was running through my driveway during that summer shower- my tiny yellow rain boots plopping through the puddles. Only a single thought crossed mind that day: Don’t let the rain stop!
The puddle filled her shoes with the warm water of summer rain. She smiled as she sloshed through the parking lot, stretching out her back and thinking of the fun to be had in the weeks to come. Leaning against her car, he smiled back at her and held out his arms.
Hannah
The puddle was round, and flat; there was an irregular sheen of oil on the top of it, which is what had drawn her attention. The rainbow shift and dance of the oil slick was hypnotic. She paused, and crouched down to look more closely at it.
I’ve cried so much I could soak a rag. I have cried so much I could cry you a puddle. I have cried so much I could cry you a river. I have cried so much I could cry you an ocean of salty tears. But I would still sail over that ocean, I would build a bridge to cross that river, I would by rain boots to walk through that puddle, and I’d wring dry that rag, for you.
My calico cat looked more like a puddle of fluff as it lay on the floor in between the couch and the television. Its glossy green eyes seemed to be glued to the screen, its head tilted as Maury Povich decided that the more redneck-esque guy of the bunch was the father. As I sat down and reached for the remote, a small, plaintive yowl could be heard as my thumb strayed toward the channel button.
“What?” I asked my cat. “You want to watch trash?”
Belinda Roddie
Apudde thgh thite gi firl
christy
I saw a puddle so I just jumped in it and it splashed everywhere, up and over my scarred legs, up and over the bruises, and when I stopped and the surface stilled I was still standing, still breathing, despite everything, despite all of the turbulence, there was still an equal and opposite reaction, my reflection. every action has an equal and opposite reaction and you are mine and thank you and goodnight.
c
The puddle splashes as the foot of the gaunt, hooded figure lands on the ground. The rain falls down like tears from the skies, or some god’s attempt to wash away the dirt obscuring the world. If only the dirt could lift from what you see as well, dear reader. If only what lies underneath shone through clearly.
Puddles and poodles and poodles in puddles is what comes to mind, dear sir. And now I find myself speaking and thinking like an English fellow, skipping alongside the road, splashing in puddles without a care in the world, passing all the precocious ladies with their poodles in their arms or in a handbag.
The puddle was mocking me. No taunting me. Screaming at me. Every time I looked at it, it saw what I didn’t want to see. Myself. But it’s sad really, how little you can recognize yourself sometimes. How hard it is to like what you see.
Julia
she left my heart
laying there
a puddle of yuck
and hurt and love
and sorrow and joy
and pain and beauty
all jumbled up into a
giant, messy, gross, disgusting
puddle.
how will i ever
clean up this mess?
Puddle. The drop on the floor. I knew if I jumped in it–there would be no end. No. Zeno had an arrow or something, didn’t he? Don’t puddle splashes just take you back to that drop when you could still laugh and were so young?
Puddle. Someone told me to look into the physical word and see what I find. I almost find pull, almost find dull. led? I guess my imagination is drained for now. I think it;s time for a new rainfall.
tammy
You drop me in a puddle. You do not even notice, not even when I drip on your favorite rug. I HATE me, I love her and smoke this :)
The puddle looked invitingly muddy. From her position by her mother’s side, Isabella glanced longingly at it. However, her mother had been VERY clear on such matters. She was wearing her patent leather shoes and they were NOT under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES to be muddied. But…surely, she hadn’t considered THIS circumstance. How could her mother have known that this puddle, this incredibly alluring puddle, would present itself to her? Maybe she’d meant ‘not under any circumstance EXCEPT for this one teeny, tiny, insignificant puddle’?
I don’t like stepping in puddles on the track. They splash into the person behind you, and the person in front of you inevitably gets you wet. This is why you should run faster, only sometimes people get tired. I do, sometimes. This is why I avoid puddles.
Well
He recoiled in horror at the sight of the puddle. It took him a few moments to discern what exactly was it that lay unmoving at his feet. Blood. A calm, collected ring of blood lurked near the soles of his feet. He panicked, looking to his left and then ran as fast as he could. Far, far away.
AfterMath
there are old people, dressed like children acting young and free, rain boots and raincoats. there is rain outside and the puddles are collecting underneath the windowsill. they splash about and laugh and run. they play like they are young again, like they are free from the real world. nothing can stop them, the rain has given them their youth back.
I’m going mad inside. The words that are coming out are like a puddle around my being, or maybe they’re like a puddle inside f me, leaking out through the cracks in my fingers to trickle down into a messy mess on the keyboard, getting gunk all over the keys and making them stick as I try to let more of the insides out. I’m going mad inside – and I don’t know how to make this all stop.
The puddles covered the road, creating mirages. Small drops of rain fell onto these pools of water, disturbing their still surfaces. A child in the distance jumps into a puddle. Water and mud splashes up onto her yellow raincoat. She laughs with glee, the noise tinkling, creating echoes in the silence.
I was standing in the puddle. I was frozen with emotion. The rain was dripping down my face and my shoes were filling with water. I didn’t care where I was at that moment all I wanted was to not see what I just saw. I didn’t want to hear what I just heard… but I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to stay where I was… in that puddle, waiting for something good to happen. Waiting for him to come back.
puddles of gasoline rainbows, puddles of rain, of mud, of sand, of grass. i always liked how the clouds drifted across the surface of the water, like you could just as easily reach out and touch them like cotton candy.
Working to jump just about took it out of her.
jumping in them is so much fun!!! puddle duddle puddle! big puddles, small puddles, they’re all fun! big puddles are awesome!!
Something about the way your eyes melt when they lock with mine, it’s like staring at a reflection, but unlike the static glass of a mirror, it’s moving, they’re searching. Where are you going? I’m right here and there’s nothing else in this world but the two pools, moving like water, showing me only the hints of the deeper end into your you. I could get lost in them, even drown under, just don’t stop, promise me you won’t give up treading this world with me.
A puddle on the ground… After a rainy day passed us by. A reminder of what was..Sun rays dance across the ground… Just as a fading memory.. gone is the puddle.
I recently made the mistake of using a restroom in a gas station. After I had finished washing my hands, heading for the door, I found myself falling and creating a rather painful body-floor collision. It seems that I had slipped on–and landed in–a puddle.
It wasn’t water.
So, it seems the frigid layer of ice surrounding your heart has finally melted? Good to hear. Leave it in a puddle by the door–it’s not like either of us have any use for it.
A Puddle of mud,
A Cow chews cud,
A Elmer fud,
A fertile Stud,
releases a flood,
must be in his blood,
could be a dud…
puddle of mud should be a puddle of chocolate pudding like we all lived in Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. I don’t want meatballs in my puddle of chocolate; I’d rather have meatballs in a puddle of marinara and mozarella. OOh, 3 m’s. but not sticky like tape. sticky like gooey yummy good. like chocolate lpudding. I mean puddle.
You left your smokey puddles in my house the last time you were here. I can dance within your essence until it dissipates into the air. I can see your blinding smile, twinkling eyes, and postured body reflecting on the surface. I see your lips moving but I can’t hear your angelic voice piercing the stale air with valor. I hope you return to turn these puddles into pools, those pools into an ocean, and then remaining here in permanence.
You spill your cereal and now there’s a puddle of milk and lucky charms on the floor and I want to scream at you, because I’m tired of taking care of you and cleaning up after you and making sure you don’t lock your keys in your car. When are you going to start taking care of me?
The water gathered so perfectly on the driveway and he just had to…had to…had to jump in and make the biggest splash he possibly could. Sure, the puddle would be gone afterward. But it was worth it.
the puddle was formed by a great painter who had splashed his cool, clear paintbrush at the floor. Seemed a shame to waste such a work of art so Silvie put her foot into it and kept the water safely in her socks.
The galaxy shined on the print of her silk gown, as she reflected in the puddle glazed with cherry blossoms.
She woke up with a start, wondering instantly how she could have been near that fountain in Nancy, France. Where did that come from? Why was she crying in the dream? Then she remembered the puddles of memory, the lost cause that was her career, the ancient tolling
I feel like my body could just melt down into a dark, bloody puddle on the floor. everything in me feels like it’s breaking, shattering to a point where the cells no longer hold themselves together, effectively liquifying all thoughts or dreams or feeling or touches i’ve ever had or shared.
I’ll throw my penny in a puddle. Because my wish isn’t worthy of a fountain.
I was running through my driveway during that summer shower- my tiny yellow rain boots plopping through the puddles. Only a single thought crossed mind that day: Don’t let the rain stop!
The puddle filled her shoes with the warm water of summer rain. She smiled as she sloshed through the parking lot, stretching out her back and thinking of the fun to be had in the weeks to come. Leaning against her car, he smiled back at her and held out his arms.
The puddle was round, and flat; there was an irregular sheen of oil on the top of it, which is what had drawn her attention. The rainbow shift and dance of the oil slick was hypnotic. She paused, and crouched down to look more closely at it.
I’ve cried so much I could soak a rag. I have cried so much I could cry you a puddle. I have cried so much I could cry you a river. I have cried so much I could cry you an ocean of salty tears. But I would still sail over that ocean, I would build a bridge to cross that river, I would by rain boots to walk through that puddle, and I’d wring dry that rag, for you.
My calico cat looked more like a puddle of fluff as it lay on the floor in between the couch and the television. Its glossy green eyes seemed to be glued to the screen, its head tilted as Maury Povich decided that the more redneck-esque guy of the bunch was the father. As I sat down and reached for the remote, a small, plaintive yowl could be heard as my thumb strayed toward the channel button.
“What?” I asked my cat. “You want to watch trash?”
Apudde thgh thite gi firl
I saw a puddle so I just jumped in it and it splashed everywhere, up and over my scarred legs, up and over the bruises, and when I stopped and the surface stilled I was still standing, still breathing, despite everything, despite all of the turbulence, there was still an equal and opposite reaction, my reflection. every action has an equal and opposite reaction and you are mine and thank you and goodnight.
The puddle splashes as the foot of the gaunt, hooded figure lands on the ground. The rain falls down like tears from the skies, or some god’s attempt to wash away the dirt obscuring the world. If only the dirt could lift from what you see as well, dear reader. If only what lies underneath shone through clearly.
Puddles and poodles and poodles in puddles is what comes to mind, dear sir. And now I find myself speaking and thinking like an English fellow, skipping alongside the road, splashing in puddles without a care in the world, passing all the precocious ladies with their poodles in their arms or in a handbag.
She jumped over the first puddle and happily danced through the second one.
Her father stood at the end of the lane, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Having fun, Analisse?” He called.
She flashed a fairy-smile at him. “It’s fun, Papi!” She twirled and made another spectacular jump. “Come play!”
“I can’t, pudding.” His smile softened and turned regretful as he watched her. “Maybe next time. Come on, we have to hurry.”
The little girl in the solemn black dress looked up as the smile froze on her face. She inched out of the puddle and ran to hold her Papi’s hand.
They walked together, hand in hand, to the funeral home.
The puddle was mocking me. No taunting me. Screaming at me. Every time I looked at it, it saw what I didn’t want to see. Myself. But it’s sad really, how little you can recognize yourself sometimes. How hard it is to like what you see.
she left my heart
laying there
a puddle of yuck
and hurt and love
and sorrow and joy
and pain and beauty
all jumbled up into a
giant, messy, gross, disgusting
puddle.
how will i ever
clean up this mess?
Puddle. The drop on the floor. I knew if I jumped in it–there would be no end. No. Zeno had an arrow or something, didn’t he? Don’t puddle splashes just take you back to that drop when you could still laugh and were so young?
Puddle. Someone told me to look into the physical word and see what I find. I almost find pull, almost find dull. led? I guess my imagination is drained for now. I think it;s time for a new rainfall.
You drop me in a puddle. You do not even notice, not even when I drip on your favorite rug. I HATE me, I love her and smoke this :)
The puddle looked invitingly muddy. From her position by her mother’s side, Isabella glanced longingly at it. However, her mother had been VERY clear on such matters. She was wearing her patent leather shoes and they were NOT under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES to be muddied. But…surely, she hadn’t considered THIS circumstance. How could her mother have known that this puddle, this incredibly alluring puddle, would present itself to her? Maybe she’d meant ‘not under any circumstance EXCEPT for this one teeny, tiny, insignificant puddle’?
i’ve cried so much,
i’ve made a puddle.
i’ve bled so much,
i’ve made an ocean.
I don’t like stepping in puddles on the track. They splash into the person behind you, and the person in front of you inevitably gets you wet. This is why you should run faster, only sometimes people get tired. I do, sometimes. This is why I avoid puddles.
He recoiled in horror at the sight of the puddle. It took him a few moments to discern what exactly was it that lay unmoving at his feet. Blood. A calm, collected ring of blood lurked near the soles of his feet. He panicked, looking to his left and then ran as fast as he could. Far, far away.
there are old people, dressed like children acting young and free, rain boots and raincoats. there is rain outside and the puddles are collecting underneath the windowsill. they splash about and laugh and run. they play like they are young again, like they are free from the real world. nothing can stop them, the rain has given them their youth back.
I’m going mad inside. The words that are coming out are like a puddle around my being, or maybe they’re like a puddle inside f me, leaking out through the cracks in my fingers to trickle down into a messy mess on the keyboard, getting gunk all over the keys and making them stick as I try to let more of the insides out. I’m going mad inside – and I don’t know how to make this all stop.