Recorder is an instrument much like a flute. I can remember playing the recorder in 5th grade. We called it a “song flute” but, they are both the same thing. Wow, I don’t know what else to say.
Angie
video recorder of my sisters dancing to power rangers
recorders in elementary school
i quit
she shouldn’t have quit. I think this will be recorded.
Kyle And Juls
i love the movie twilight.
bb
i love dogs i think there the best pet .i have a dog her name is fiona she is 2 i love her a lot.shes the best dog ever
alice
i love dogs i think there the best pet .i have a dog
bella
something to record my thoughts… oh, that would be nice. i can see it now, just driving down the road, and one of those random thoughts pops into my head…and now i can remember it. that would make life easier! haha
cari
There I stood in my god awful dress with the white frills, so proud of myself. I had just finished my solo of “O Canada” on my recorder, and I was flushed with a feeling of contentment and exultation.
Tassia
recorder is a musical intrument that when i used it, was plastic and sounded liek crap. I remeber Mrs. Rheinhart, my music teacher, a large red head woman who would sit at a piano and play songs, while we were supposed to play along with our recorder. Hot Cross Buns never sounded so great, thanks Mrs. “Rhino Fart”
Jake
Bob stared at the juvenile instrument in disgust. How could Tyler stand to play that dinky plastic thing? And she’d bought it USED, which meant there was someone’s spit already on it. No sir, it had to go.
Nik
banana angel fly can’t love break me down turn around house hope want need see could be as nefarious wonder imagine beetle first day autumn leaves halloween never could see happiness cry seeing figure out freeze
Red
Sometimes I use a recorder to record lectures, and other times, I use it to record TV shows. But my memory is the ultimate recorder. Recorder of past, present, and future. All at once. Emotions, pain, beauty, happiness
Anonymous
music listening hal playing in 3rd grade. buttons. black and white. small musical qualities. wind. air. sound
Anonymous
recorder on
*($&%($&%$)&$%$*()
(%)$()%$*%$*%($*%
)_*$(#*$#(_%#_#%#
random space
the message?
everything is there,
everything,
in the background noise.
nicki
ONe time i recorded an experiment and i needed more time to talk with the people involved and i realized i used to play the recorder in my 4th grade class and figured out it will all be ok anyway. I need another recorder though. Soon. Time is being wasted
Anonymous
i wonder what my tape sounds like.
the one that is recording everything that rolls out of my mouth- apologies, whispered i love you’s, answers and questions and unspoken words.
i wonder what my tape sounds like if it is rewound…. like sounds tape my what i wonder.
Dawn
the recorder plays
the tune i know
but yet i don’t think
about it
softly
it alarmly
strikes me
there
where i thought it
wouldn’t know
funny
how it all seems
like yesterday
emily
there once was a kid named blake. in his music class there were learning how to play the recorder, but this wasnt a normal recorder, it was an extraordinary recorded with magical powers. eventually, blake died with the recorder by his side. the end
just
The recorder sounds in the distance. I can hear my sister mess up the notes. I cover my ears. The sound makes my hear hurt and my eyes water. I become extremely thankful that I am done with taht instrument.
Karen
the grandfather sat down for his afternoon shows on the recorder in his family room. it was a daily ritual for the old man that had never been broken in his 45 years of age. his father had it before him and his father before him would’ve done the same but recorder’s had not been invented yet. These were the days he wish to spend with his son but he had no son to show the way. he was a widower
Anonymous
record your ideas dont let life go by without all of the intuitive creative thoughts that we all have different from eachothers.
phil
playing with my friends
never seeing the reason for something like this to live
this device, mocking the other instruments
should’ve gotten out of choir when i still had a chance
now i’m stuck playing this damn recorder
i should have just stuck to makin pants
MPolo
the ultimate recorder of light, of words, of sound, of memories, of life. all nestled in a little bone box. Gray and wrinkled, it is the ultimate recorder; it recreates life, it makes you you.
provie82
the player had already stopped
the device had looked up and shutted its top
the man behind the scenes opened his eyes
the girl in front playing the tambourine sent him to his knees
the recorder hadn’t been pushed
nothing could’ve been more
damn the recorder
MPolo
One word.. could mean anything.
Lane
reminds me of elementary school because we all had to have one in 4th grade for music. mine was used. my sisters. chewed up by an un-disciplined black lab. embarrassing being poor. but hey, in the 90’s with 4 kids who wasn’t poor? i wasn’t aware of it till later of course. my parents tried though.
vvv
Recorder.
Strangely enough it reminds me of an ancient photo. on old ripped photo i once saw of my mom when she was younger. She had a bright smile and was pushing a stroller, a stroller that held a tiny doll.
She claims her brother was odd–is odd, but all the same, he’s with her in that photo, and smiling right along with her.
Brooke.
This reminds me of when I was in elementary school our teacher had to teach us how to play the recorder. It was called Karate Recorder and I really sucked at it. There was no point to me being in it because I really thought I sucked and she let me believe it.
katie mae
I just gave a little recorder along with a little tamborine and a “boo-tar” (translation – guitar) to my granddaughter for her birthday back in May. She is really into music. She loved all these musical gifts which pleases me and her Paw Paw.
bearbear
he eyed the small black box in the corner. it was a tape recorder, recording everything he said. he would have to be careful.
walking to the other side of the room, he sat down, without making any noise.
sitting for a long time, waiting…waiting…not saying a word.
Cherry
I was playing my recorder when it hit a bad note. Squidward from Spongebob came over and then ate the recorder before he realized it was not a clarinet. How dreadful. Then I was left musicless and sad because Squidward was chocking and I was deemed a bad musician. Boo Hoo.
Allie P
I never could play the recorder. My friend Melinda tried to teach me in college, I never did quite get it. The two kids had to play it in elementary school they did much better.
vic
I tried to remember everything about the moment. It seemed so perfect, but I knew that it all would fade, until that one day when I look back and realize that it means nothing anymore. I knew that end would come, no matter how hard I stared at the fuzzy reality of his blue cotton sweatshirt, or how often I let his hands slip into mine. I knew that life is not about recording. I would remember it the way it needed to be remembered, and that was all I could settle for.
*sorry, completely off-topic, but whatever.*
Bekkah
I used to play the recorder in elementary school. My mom bought me a pink one for when we had to learn them. It was that or purple, I chose pink.
Dum Dee Dum
i record so little of my time with words. and i should. there is music to be had and heard. music to be shared. music to be played at high volumes, volumes upon volumes of unplayed words. and this i contend with. day after day.
krista mckay
It’s that little instrument you play in music class when you’re little. I dunno why, but I’ve always hated them. It seemed as if no one could play recorders, even the people who were good at music.
Anyways, my recorder always sounded like a dying goose. Very pleasant. I gave up on instruments soon after.
Alison
there are six of them in my house, even though there are only five of us. we do play them sometimes and we fancy we sound better than your average fifth grader recorder band. we play other musical instruments, you know, flutes and harpsichords and oboes and harmoniums, so we think that should make us better. but it doesn’t. we sound just as awful as anyone else who ever played a recorder. there are no recorder virtuosos and for good reason.
Florence
i love you in live just simple love two people with very strong feeling towords each other
Anonymous
the person in the meeting who came to talk was declared to be the recorder – and was not permitted to talk – just capture the words of all the others. Just talk and the recorder will listen to your every word.
bobby
the recorder was turned on you can talk freely now its recording i know you want this all recorded.yes ,yes i do. it started out small it was only once in a while ,if they were hitch hiking on the road or a hooker here and there bu
byron steele
One day at Musical Theather Our music teacher Thomas told us to bring a recorder to recored our singing. I told my mom and she might have one. I am still waiting.
Recorder is an instrument much like a flute. I can remember playing the recorder in 5th grade. We called it a “song flute” but, they are both the same thing. Wow, I don’t know what else to say.
video recorder of my sisters dancing to power rangers
recorders in elementary school
i quit
she shouldn’t have quit. I think this will be recorded.
i love the movie twilight.
i love dogs i think there the best pet .i have a dog her name is fiona she is 2 i love her a lot.shes the best dog ever
i love dogs i think there the best pet .i have a dog
something to record my thoughts… oh, that would be nice. i can see it now, just driving down the road, and one of those random thoughts pops into my head…and now i can remember it. that would make life easier! haha
There I stood in my god awful dress with the white frills, so proud of myself. I had just finished my solo of “O Canada” on my recorder, and I was flushed with a feeling of contentment and exultation.
recorder is a musical intrument that when i used it, was plastic and sounded liek crap. I remeber Mrs. Rheinhart, my music teacher, a large red head woman who would sit at a piano and play songs, while we were supposed to play along with our recorder. Hot Cross Buns never sounded so great, thanks Mrs. “Rhino Fart”
Bob stared at the juvenile instrument in disgust. How could Tyler stand to play that dinky plastic thing? And she’d bought it USED, which meant there was someone’s spit already on it. No sir, it had to go.
banana angel fly can’t love break me down turn around house hope want need see could be as nefarious wonder imagine beetle first day autumn leaves halloween never could see happiness cry seeing figure out freeze
Sometimes I use a recorder to record lectures, and other times, I use it to record TV shows. But my memory is the ultimate recorder. Recorder of past, present, and future. All at once. Emotions, pain, beauty, happiness
music listening hal playing in 3rd grade. buttons. black and white. small musical qualities. wind. air. sound
recorder on
*($&%($&%$)&$%$*()
(%)$()%$*%$*%($*%
)_*$(#*$#(_%#_#%#
random space
the message?
everything is there,
everything,
in the background noise.
ONe time i recorded an experiment and i needed more time to talk with the people involved and i realized i used to play the recorder in my 4th grade class and figured out it will all be ok anyway. I need another recorder though. Soon. Time is being wasted
i wonder what my tape sounds like.
the one that is recording everything that rolls out of my mouth- apologies, whispered i love you’s, answers and questions and unspoken words.
i wonder what my tape sounds like if it is rewound…. like sounds tape my what i wonder.
the recorder plays
the tune i know
but yet i don’t think
about it
softly
it alarmly
strikes me
there
where i thought it
wouldn’t know
funny
how it all seems
like yesterday
there once was a kid named blake. in his music class there were learning how to play the recorder, but this wasnt a normal recorder, it was an extraordinary recorded with magical powers. eventually, blake died with the recorder by his side. the end
The recorder sounds in the distance. I can hear my sister mess up the notes. I cover my ears. The sound makes my hear hurt and my eyes water. I become extremely thankful that I am done with taht instrument.
the grandfather sat down for his afternoon shows on the recorder in his family room. it was a daily ritual for the old man that had never been broken in his 45 years of age. his father had it before him and his father before him would’ve done the same but recorder’s had not been invented yet. These were the days he wish to spend with his son but he had no son to show the way. he was a widower
record your ideas dont let life go by without all of the intuitive creative thoughts that we all have different from eachothers.
playing with my friends
never seeing the reason for something like this to live
this device, mocking the other instruments
should’ve gotten out of choir when i still had a chance
now i’m stuck playing this damn recorder
i should have just stuck to makin pants
the ultimate recorder of light, of words, of sound, of memories, of life. all nestled in a little bone box. Gray and wrinkled, it is the ultimate recorder; it recreates life, it makes you you.
the player had already stopped
the device had looked up and shutted its top
the man behind the scenes opened his eyes
the girl in front playing the tambourine sent him to his knees
the recorder hadn’t been pushed
nothing could’ve been more
damn the recorder
One word.. could mean anything.
reminds me of elementary school because we all had to have one in 4th grade for music. mine was used. my sisters. chewed up by an un-disciplined black lab. embarrassing being poor. but hey, in the 90’s with 4 kids who wasn’t poor? i wasn’t aware of it till later of course. my parents tried though.
Recorder.
Strangely enough it reminds me of an ancient photo. on old ripped photo i once saw of my mom when she was younger. She had a bright smile and was pushing a stroller, a stroller that held a tiny doll.
She claims her brother was odd–is odd, but all the same, he’s with her in that photo, and smiling right along with her.
This reminds me of when I was in elementary school our teacher had to teach us how to play the recorder. It was called Karate Recorder and I really sucked at it. There was no point to me being in it because I really thought I sucked and she let me believe it.
I just gave a little recorder along with a little tamborine and a “boo-tar” (translation – guitar) to my granddaughter for her birthday back in May. She is really into music. She loved all these musical gifts which pleases me and her Paw Paw.
he eyed the small black box in the corner. it was a tape recorder, recording everything he said. he would have to be careful.
walking to the other side of the room, he sat down, without making any noise.
sitting for a long time, waiting…waiting…not saying a word.
I was playing my recorder when it hit a bad note. Squidward from Spongebob came over and then ate the recorder before he realized it was not a clarinet. How dreadful. Then I was left musicless and sad because Squidward was chocking and I was deemed a bad musician. Boo Hoo.
I never could play the recorder. My friend Melinda tried to teach me in college, I never did quite get it. The two kids had to play it in elementary school they did much better.
I tried to remember everything about the moment. It seemed so perfect, but I knew that it all would fade, until that one day when I look back and realize that it means nothing anymore. I knew that end would come, no matter how hard I stared at the fuzzy reality of his blue cotton sweatshirt, or how often I let his hands slip into mine. I knew that life is not about recording. I would remember it the way it needed to be remembered, and that was all I could settle for.
*sorry, completely off-topic, but whatever.*
I used to play the recorder in elementary school. My mom bought me a pink one for when we had to learn them. It was that or purple, I chose pink.
i record so little of my time with words. and i should. there is music to be had and heard. music to be shared. music to be played at high volumes, volumes upon volumes of unplayed words. and this i contend with. day after day.
It’s that little instrument you play in music class when you’re little. I dunno why, but I’ve always hated them. It seemed as if no one could play recorders, even the people who were good at music.
Anyways, my recorder always sounded like a dying goose. Very pleasant. I gave up on instruments soon after.
there are six of them in my house, even though there are only five of us. we do play them sometimes and we fancy we sound better than your average fifth grader recorder band. we play other musical instruments, you know, flutes and harpsichords and oboes and harmoniums, so we think that should make us better. but it doesn’t. we sound just as awful as anyone else who ever played a recorder. there are no recorder virtuosos and for good reason.
i love you in live just simple love two people with very strong feeling towords each other
the person in the meeting who came to talk was declared to be the recorder – and was not permitted to talk – just capture the words of all the others. Just talk and the recorder will listen to your every word.
the recorder was turned on you can talk freely now its recording i know you want this all recorded.yes ,yes i do. it started out small it was only once in a while ,if they were hitch hiking on the road or a hooker here and there bu
One day at Musical Theather Our music teacher Thomas told us to bring a recorder to recored our singing. I told my mom and she might have one. I am still waiting.