A resident looks outside the window, watching the children play outside. She remembers her childhood, the times she was the one, running around without a care in the world. She was a child back then, not a single worry on her mind. It was different now.. Everything was. She would never be this careless again. She would never feel at home. That time was over. What was to come, was unclear.
The resident plans to move again. The current locale will never work out. The only comforting thought is the likelihood of seeing some cashed out equity in selling the house as more of the area develops. Becomes desirable. Other thoughts are not so kind and actually rather disquieting: like the inevitable break-up if one wishes to go and another wishes to stay. An end is coming that much is clear whether it takes one or more several years. It’s a story that circles back on itself time and time again for the resident could be like any other who’s faced a similar choice and had to move on.
Atlas
Many years he had waited, and nothing had changed. A chasm of despair and loneliness created only by the separation of society surrounded his whole being. The arms that longed to be held by flesh and blood scratched against the invisible barrier clouding his vision. It only grew thicker as seconds ticked by. Each tick of a clock that he couldn’t find, drove a nail into his heart, until enough had gone by that the very essence of his soul was no longer visible. It was covered and mutilated by the cold-blooded lonesome demon whose purpose was to force the submission of emotion. In reality, creating the thing the demon longed for the most, a companion. One who felt as though he did. Frenzied words ripped themselves out of his throat clinging to a newfound partner, silence. Brutish creatures who once looked as he did, had eyes that followed him everywhere. Their convenient mouths were not twisted into a perpetual sneer, but into a look of alienation and callousness. A patient knock filled with a somehow irresistible contagion of hope penetrated the fog surrounding him. From his makeshift pillow of rolled, tattered clothing and a blanket of crumpled paper he opened his eyes fully for the first time in years. He dragged his mutilated body toward the entrance of his cardboard castle. He grabbed the brush he had bought with the money he received for almost dying for his country, and tried to brush the gnarled greasy rat’s nest which he called his hair. With apprehension building and the continued knock of hope pounding on his heart, he grabbed the door. He opened it not only to the empty doorstep of his home, but to shining of the sun and the brisk clicking of the expensive shoes worn only by impatient women. For he was no longer a resident of loneliness, but a citizen of the world.
I am a resident of the hotel of love-
And you are the one who gave me lease;
I cannot leave
It’s too addicting
You’re always around
And i’m always surrounded
I’m never alone
even if sometimes I feel alone
But I know you’re there
Not too far away.
It’s a rollercoaster of emotions
Trying to upkeep
And keep it all glued together
But I know,
That It’ll work out
I never want to leave.
she was a resident . Residents are curious . curious are residents . Residents are like presidents but not the same so residents are plain , plain as day !!
grace
She was the only resident who couldn’t afford her rent consistently. That is why she began sleeping with the landlord. She knew she couldn’t handle being out on the streets again. She felt that she was happier giving up her dignity than having nowhere to call her own.
“I’ve forgotten my pass, you see,” he said. But the stonewall of a face didn’t crack with recognition. He fumbled to remember a few facts he could use as proof, but the adrenaline clouded the pool of his memory.
ml
I am a resident of San Antonio. When I first moved to Texas, I really didn’t want to become a Texan. I had very negative stereotypes of the ignorant redneck Texan cowboy who hates anyone different than themselves. But my new hometown broke all those views for me. I love my city now and am proud to say that I live in San Antonio.
Andrew
The resident artist sat alone in his tree house, his pencil to his lip and his notebook open in front of him. He had a far away expression on his face. Finally, he started to jot down some words on the paper. “monkey” “far away” “Moonshine”.
Jenx looked away from the screen and towards her teacher. The other students looked as confused as she felt. “Those words don’t mean anything do they?”
The teacher scolded her. “How are we to know? Do you understand the creative process? He is writing something great.” Jenx shrugged and looked at the next screen, viewing other specimens from Earth. She still felt a nagging sense that the words meant something.
When the teacher called them, she gave a final glance at the screen of the resident artist. He was standing behind his table and staring directly at the camera. For a second, it seemed their eyes met and Jenx felt strange. She wondered if he knew that he was being watched.
She shifted the bags on her hips, trying to reach the button without dropping anything. She almost had it when the door swung open quickly and nearly knocked her in the face. “Oh dear god!”
there was a resident, who saw through
the shame and the guilt of the city
therein, innervated the soul noone knew
protested against the epidome
of relectuctant christmas chiimeny’s
where familys fought over the simplest
steeps of tea.
everybody has their own god
full throttle, belifs,
religious theifs
some belived the thin air, and fancy cod.
pull out the rod and fish for bliss
is the only and last tip thatll will glid a kiss!
you foster position in my yellow rooms
your voices is cadence like gauze curtains
pulled back in the wind, into yellow room
like this, your words and mine fit together
your words become the surface of my skin
my painted concrete walls
your words are a puff, are planetary rings around me
like this my body breathes with the breath of my
As a resident of this world, I must live my life in a meaningful way so that I don’t have regrets the day it ends.
Janaki Srinivasan
So long ago
You became a resident of my heart
The first time I saw you, 4th grade
I felt a longing inside I’d never known before
You were beautiful to me
Like a fairy tale, magic, mystery
The world changed for me that day
Then you moved away
The first time I felt my soul tortured
When I got home from school
Tossed myself upon my bed
Tears from an unknown river flowed
Years go by, rarely I think of you
Then 7th grade, you come back
And my heart knew immediately
From it, you’d never gone away
the enchantment, the hex, the spell
whatever sorcery you wielded
still my spirit you did compel
Yet time and fate cruelly repeating
Again, you departed
Where healing had begun
My spirit’s scab was torn away
My love bleeding, sorrow’s rain
Decades later, you still come to mind
On lonely nights when my feelings
Walk the hallways of their history
I pay a visit to your room in my heart
You’re still there
poetwarrior
person that lives in a house, owns a house part of a family, Not homeless. has a house, resides and lives in it . not alone
Terri
The resident of house is like your soul. It stays with you because it’s the only place it has to live. When you die, it flies into nothingness.
Anna
That was what we called him. No one knew what his real name was, so everyone just referred to him as “the resident.”
The first time I saw him was when I moved into the complex, he was smoking a cigarette outside. Didn’t look at me, didn’t offer to help me carry my stuff. But that was fine, I didn’t ask him to.
Del
Heart is a resident of love, close relations, some sweet and some sour memories.
The resident was panting loudly, the only other sound coming from the footsteps just outside the door. He had been so silent, but apparently, hiding had never been enough.
Andréanne
I have spent so many years feeling the distance. The closest of people were nearby yet with a chasm between us. In trying to grow, I strangled the part in me that assumed I had a place in conversation, the part of me that thought it was appropriate to discuss myself in any other way than an anecdote to someone else’s life to make them feel less alone. The rest was fluff, desperate hands reaching from my throat to grab hold of some thread of connection. I wrapped my fingers around her neck and stared into her eyes as they dulled over, hands made of every time the words ‘I’m so glad I understand you so well’ stabbed through my eardrums, and the utter abandonment felt with the realization that they in fact did not understand, and never did. Having killed her who relentlessly tried to bridge the gap, I took up home in a brick one-room handmade with the same fingers; walls strong enough for me to lean on, enough support surely I never need more.
Red walls freeze and scrape at my skin, and can’t ever come close to a warm shoulder on my cheek.
But you have made a home here.
In this little one-room, will it come down to a lease run out -a year, a year and a half?-, or eviction?
How rough these walls will be after something so soft.
I am a resident of my house, a resident of this earth. I like it here; I learn a lot, and it is quiet. There are also a lot of books nearby I can read.
Our resident Animal Man, resident Artist, resident cyborg of a man, made of swearing, sass, beers, and concoctions of powders, fungi, and slick ideas.
Zoe
I am a proud resident of this complex, how dare you try to kick me out?!
Sir, I understand you are pissed but you should know that you shouldn’t fuck your wife on your balcony…
I DON’T CARE
Sir…there are kids that live here
LET THEM WATCH, I LIKE VOYEURS
Matthew Bartee
what does teh word residnet mean to me the word resident means you live in that certain area or you belong to that certain area sometimes
“Excuse me,” piped up the lanky taxman, “is there an actual person living in this house?”
“I’m the resident,” growled Charlene, the cigarette smoke thick against her lips. She was on her tenth cigarette of the day, and the arrival of this bureaucratic bastard on her property was not a welcome sight.
The tax collector stared almost ominously at Charlene, then at her dilapidated home. What it lacked in aesthetics, she thought, it made up for in personality.
A person who lives somewhere permanently or on a long-term basis.
A medical graduate engaged in specialized practice under supervision in a hospital.
a house
person who owns the house
I couldn’t figure anything out for “resident”.
a population of a particular area.
A person who lives somewhere permanently or on a long-term basis.
a person who lives somewhere permanently or on a long-term basis.
1.a person who lives somewhere permanently or on a long-term basis.
Resident can me someone can live at a certain house for a long period of time.
We have a new resident in the neighborhood.
a neighbor
Someone who lives in a house.
A person who lives somewhere permanently or on a long-term basis.
i am the resident of the glass prison of my own dreams . can it be any more obvious when false pride is the norm and reality is the dr
A resident looks outside the window, watching the children play outside. She remembers her childhood, the times she was the one, running around without a care in the world. She was a child back then, not a single worry on her mind. It was different now.. Everything was. She would never be this careless again. She would never feel at home. That time was over. What was to come, was unclear.
The resident plans to move again. The current locale will never work out. The only comforting thought is the likelihood of seeing some cashed out equity in selling the house as more of the area develops. Becomes desirable. Other thoughts are not so kind and actually rather disquieting: like the inevitable break-up if one wishes to go and another wishes to stay. An end is coming that much is clear whether it takes one or more several years. It’s a story that circles back on itself time and time again for the resident could be like any other who’s faced a similar choice and had to move on.
Many years he had waited, and nothing had changed. A chasm of despair and loneliness created only by the separation of society surrounded his whole being. The arms that longed to be held by flesh and blood scratched against the invisible barrier clouding his vision. It only grew thicker as seconds ticked by. Each tick of a clock that he couldn’t find, drove a nail into his heart, until enough had gone by that the very essence of his soul was no longer visible. It was covered and mutilated by the cold-blooded lonesome demon whose purpose was to force the submission of emotion. In reality, creating the thing the demon longed for the most, a companion. One who felt as though he did. Frenzied words ripped themselves out of his throat clinging to a newfound partner, silence. Brutish creatures who once looked as he did, had eyes that followed him everywhere. Their convenient mouths were not twisted into a perpetual sneer, but into a look of alienation and callousness. A patient knock filled with a somehow irresistible contagion of hope penetrated the fog surrounding him. From his makeshift pillow of rolled, tattered clothing and a blanket of crumpled paper he opened his eyes fully for the first time in years. He dragged his mutilated body toward the entrance of his cardboard castle. He grabbed the brush he had bought with the money he received for almost dying for his country, and tried to brush the gnarled greasy rat’s nest which he called his hair. With apprehension building and the continued knock of hope pounding on his heart, he grabbed the door. He opened it not only to the empty doorstep of his home, but to shining of the sun and the brisk clicking of the expensive shoes worn only by impatient women. For he was no longer a resident of loneliness, but a citizen of the world.
I am a resident of the hotel of love-
And you are the one who gave me lease;
I cannot leave
It’s too addicting
You’re always around
And i’m always surrounded
I’m never alone
even if sometimes I feel alone
But I know you’re there
Not too far away.
It’s a rollercoaster of emotions
Trying to upkeep
And keep it all glued together
But I know,
That It’ll work out
I never want to leave.
she was a resident . Residents are curious . curious are residents . Residents are like presidents but not the same so residents are plain , plain as day !!
She was the only resident who couldn’t afford her rent consistently. That is why she began sleeping with the landlord. She knew she couldn’t handle being out on the streets again. She felt that she was happier giving up her dignity than having nowhere to call her own.
“I’ve forgotten my pass, you see,” he said. But the stonewall of a face didn’t crack with recognition. He fumbled to remember a few facts he could use as proof, but the adrenaline clouded the pool of his memory.
I am a resident of San Antonio. When I first moved to Texas, I really didn’t want to become a Texan. I had very negative stereotypes of the ignorant redneck Texan cowboy who hates anyone different than themselves. But my new hometown broke all those views for me. I love my city now and am proud to say that I live in San Antonio.
The resident artist sat alone in his tree house, his pencil to his lip and his notebook open in front of him. He had a far away expression on his face. Finally, he started to jot down some words on the paper. “monkey” “far away” “Moonshine”.
Jenx looked away from the screen and towards her teacher. The other students looked as confused as she felt. “Those words don’t mean anything do they?”
The teacher scolded her. “How are we to know? Do you understand the creative process? He is writing something great.” Jenx shrugged and looked at the next screen, viewing other specimens from Earth. She still felt a nagging sense that the words meant something.
When the teacher called them, she gave a final glance at the screen of the resident artist. He was standing behind his table and staring directly at the camera. For a second, it seemed their eyes met and Jenx felt strange. She wondered if he knew that he was being watched.
She shifted the bags on her hips, trying to reach the button without dropping anything. She almost had it when the door swung open quickly and nearly knocked her in the face. “Oh dear god!”
there was a resident, who saw through
the shame and the guilt of the city
therein, innervated the soul noone knew
protested against the epidome
of relectuctant christmas chiimeny’s
where familys fought over the simplest
steeps of tea.
everybody has their own god
full throttle, belifs,
religious theifs
some belived the thin air, and fancy cod.
pull out the rod and fish for bliss
is the only and last tip thatll will glid a kiss!
resident of the moon hotel, there are three pools and a bleached whale skeleton hanging in the main lobby
you foster position in my yellow rooms
your voices is cadence like gauze curtains
pulled back in the wind, into yellow room
like this, your words and mine fit together
your words become the surface of my skin
my painted concrete walls
your words are a puff, are planetary rings around me
like this my body breathes with the breath of my
As a resident of this world, I must live my life in a meaningful way so that I don’t have regrets the day it ends.
So long ago
You became a resident of my heart
The first time I saw you, 4th grade
I felt a longing inside I’d never known before
You were beautiful to me
Like a fairy tale, magic, mystery
The world changed for me that day
Then you moved away
The first time I felt my soul tortured
When I got home from school
Tossed myself upon my bed
Tears from an unknown river flowed
Years go by, rarely I think of you
Then 7th grade, you come back
And my heart knew immediately
From it, you’d never gone away
the enchantment, the hex, the spell
whatever sorcery you wielded
still my spirit you did compel
Yet time and fate cruelly repeating
Again, you departed
Where healing had begun
My spirit’s scab was torn away
My love bleeding, sorrow’s rain
Decades later, you still come to mind
On lonely nights when my feelings
Walk the hallways of their history
I pay a visit to your room in my heart
You’re still there
person that lives in a house, owns a house part of a family, Not homeless. has a house, resides and lives in it . not alone
The resident of house is like your soul. It stays with you because it’s the only place it has to live. When you die, it flies into nothingness.
That was what we called him. No one knew what his real name was, so everyone just referred to him as “the resident.”
The first time I saw him was when I moved into the complex, he was smoking a cigarette outside. Didn’t look at me, didn’t offer to help me carry my stuff. But that was fine, I didn’t ask him to.
Heart is a resident of love, close relations, some sweet and some sour memories.
The resident was panting loudly, the only other sound coming from the footsteps just outside the door. He had been so silent, but apparently, hiding had never been enough.
I have spent so many years feeling the distance. The closest of people were nearby yet with a chasm between us. In trying to grow, I strangled the part in me that assumed I had a place in conversation, the part of me that thought it was appropriate to discuss myself in any other way than an anecdote to someone else’s life to make them feel less alone. The rest was fluff, desperate hands reaching from my throat to grab hold of some thread of connection. I wrapped my fingers around her neck and stared into her eyes as they dulled over, hands made of every time the words ‘I’m so glad I understand you so well’ stabbed through my eardrums, and the utter abandonment felt with the realization that they in fact did not understand, and never did. Having killed her who relentlessly tried to bridge the gap, I took up home in a brick one-room handmade with the same fingers; walls strong enough for me to lean on, enough support surely I never need more.
Red walls freeze and scrape at my skin, and can’t ever come close to a warm shoulder on my cheek.
But you have made a home here.
In this little one-room, will it come down to a lease run out -a year, a year and a half?-, or eviction?
How rough these walls will be after something so soft.
I am a resident of my house, a resident of this earth. I like it here; I learn a lot, and it is quiet. There are also a lot of books nearby I can read.
Our resident Animal Man, resident Artist, resident cyborg of a man, made of swearing, sass, beers, and concoctions of powders, fungi, and slick ideas.
I am a proud resident of this complex, how dare you try to kick me out?!
Sir, I understand you are pissed but you should know that you shouldn’t fuck your wife on your balcony…
I DON’T CARE
Sir…there are kids that live here
LET THEM WATCH, I LIKE VOYEURS
what does teh word residnet mean to me the word resident means you live in that certain area or you belong to that certain area sometimes
to belong to a group or area.
part ownership
temporary, able to change
residing in area
“Excuse me,” piped up the lanky taxman, “is there an actual person living in this house?”
“I’m the resident,” growled Charlene, the cigarette smoke thick against her lips. She was on her tenth cigarette of the day, and the arrival of this bureaucratic bastard on her property was not a welcome sight.
The tax collector stared almost ominously at Charlene, then at her dilapidated home. What it lacked in aesthetics, she thought, it made up for in personality.