The skyline was full of clouds, and they were moving fast. The colors added to the clouds by the setting sun was a deep orange and violet combination with just the slightest edge of red and yellow. The river hills were visible but I just wasn’t high enough. I stood inside the passenger side door but it still wasn’t high enough. I climbed up onto the roof I my jeep, finally I was high enough, then the rainbow came out.
I watch the swollen orange globe methodically raise itself over the line in the distance. Lazily rising, much like I do.
rich laperle
I have always wanted to visit one of those stereotypical parking lot locations on a cliff overlooking the skyline of a nearby city, where the young and restless teens go to make out with each other. I never been to one though.
I like to drive to Atlanta and see the skyling. Being from the country I rarely see tall bulidings. I especially like to see the Atlanta skyline at night timr. The lights are beautiful.
Sarah Marchese
Picking himself up off the side of the road, a sharp pain snapped him to attention. He didn’t know where he was. It was dark. Quiet. And the skyline in the distance was no help.
theinkpuncher
the new yourk city skline is the coolest thing in the world you look up and you see all sorts of differnt building and skyscrapers they will have cool names and such names are so cool to learn about.
Lilly
Hello!
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generic
We’d been underground for so long. All the dark, lit only by torches, only by the weird glows of the strange green rocks that appeared in clusters here and there. I’d forgotten what it looked like outside, where there was actually sky, actually true and real light. And as we climbed up the craggy, crumbled pathway up to the world above, my stomach twisted with the sight that met my eyes: the ruins of the old city, skeletal and broken against the sunset.
FA Hakimian
I can’t see the skyline of Miami because the rain is falling too hard. Seeing it is a highlight of my day but today will be a rainy day because there’s a tropical storm right on top of us. Oh well, hopefully by tomorrow it will have passed. Let’s pray for no flooding!
the skyline is my byline, i’m walking on a fine line, neon, bright, missing-you city, sand in my shoes, ocean beneath me, a little high on the memory, moving away from me, you are down there somewhere, somewhere in the skyline.
She watched that firy line in the sky. The dragons were back. She ran through the wood whistled for her sheep and the dog – the only thing that would save them was the small cave at the foot of the mountain. Then she stumbled.
Silke Seßler
in the distance, skyscrapers, a bridge. against the horizon, long and cold. worshipped by many as the place where their dreams might come true. sometimes the background red-gold.
ben
I don’t know what a skyline is, but it sounds interesting.
Da Schnazz
Everyone thinks that the skyline is there to be admired. But when you compare the skyline that is visible in nature to one where the line has been corrupted by the advancement of humanity, then the skyline that is the one of nature is far more superior.
He looked off at the setting sun and was amazed by it. It was like nothing was wrong, the glare of the sun masking everything. It felt like any other day, the warmth of the sun playing off his skin. The only indication that anything was wrong was the smell coming from the streets below. If one didn’t look down, it would be perfect.
i see the birds flying over the skyline chirping at the clouds
haika
I wish I could see the very tops of the buildings along the city skyline. Unfortunately, the fog conceals all edges, deletes the sharper corners and surfaces from my memory, as if I have blurred the outlines of a photograph with an online editing tool. Still, the lights are something out – white and crystalline, like miniature chandeliers casting reflections across the water.
Belinda Roddie
Thoughts create skylines
I try to see the stars through;
light pollution swallows
and burps up a moon
you have to shield
your eyes to see.
It’s too artificial.
Slow footfalls down dead streets.
They don’t live here, anymore.
They don’t live here, anymore.
I count the wildflowers
stroking past my fingers,
and ask them of loneliness.
“Define it, please,” I ask the lilacs.
They sing to me of the absence of stars,
and I confide, “It’s okay, I never see them, either.”
This night wasn’t like any other night. It was cold and wet. The skyline was black against the purple sky. Nothing was left in those buildings. The war made sure of that. If only there was a way to bring it back to life. The way it used to be.
The skyline was full of clouds, and they were moving fast. The colors added to the clouds by the setting sun was a deep orange and violet combination with just the slightest edge of red and yellow. The river hills were visible but I just wasn’t high enough. I stood inside the passenger side door but it still wasn’t high enough. I climbed up onto the roof I my jeep, finally I was high enough, then the rainbow came out.
I watch the swollen orange globe methodically raise itself over the line in the distance. Lazily rising, much like I do.
I have always wanted to visit one of those stereotypical parking lot locations on a cliff overlooking the skyline of a nearby city, where the young and restless teens go to make out with each other. I never been to one though.
I like to drive to Atlanta and see the skyling. Being from the country I rarely see tall bulidings. I especially like to see the Atlanta skyline at night timr. The lights are beautiful.
Picking himself up off the side of the road, a sharp pain snapped him to attention. He didn’t know where he was. It was dark. Quiet. And the skyline in the distance was no help.
the new yourk city skline is the coolest thing in the world you look up and you see all sorts of differnt building and skyscrapers they will have cool names and such names are so cool to learn about.
Hello!
Hello!
We’d been underground for so long. All the dark, lit only by torches, only by the weird glows of the strange green rocks that appeared in clusters here and there. I’d forgotten what it looked like outside, where there was actually sky, actually true and real light. And as we climbed up the craggy, crumbled pathway up to the world above, my stomach twisted with the sight that met my eyes: the ruins of the old city, skeletal and broken against the sunset.
I can’t see the skyline of Miami because the rain is falling too hard. Seeing it is a highlight of my day but today will be a rainy day because there’s a tropical storm right on top of us. Oh well, hopefully by tomorrow it will have passed. Let’s pray for no flooding!
the skyline is my byline, i’m walking on a fine line, neon, bright, missing-you city, sand in my shoes, ocean beneath me, a little high on the memory, moving away from me, you are down there somewhere, somewhere in the skyline.
She watched that firy line in the sky. The dragons were back. She ran through the wood whistled for her sheep and the dog – the only thing that would save them was the small cave at the foot of the mountain. Then she stumbled.
in the distance, skyscrapers, a bridge. against the horizon, long and cold. worshipped by many as the place where their dreams might come true. sometimes the background red-gold.
I don’t know what a skyline is, but it sounds interesting.
Everyone thinks that the skyline is there to be admired. But when you compare the skyline that is visible in nature to one where the line has been corrupted by the advancement of humanity, then the skyline that is the one of nature is far more superior.
He looked off at the setting sun and was amazed by it. It was like nothing was wrong, the glare of the sun masking everything. It felt like any other day, the warmth of the sun playing off his skin. The only indication that anything was wrong was the smell coming from the streets below. If one didn’t look down, it would be perfect.
i see the birds flying over the skyline chirping at the clouds
I wish I could see the very tops of the buildings along the city skyline. Unfortunately, the fog conceals all edges, deletes the sharper corners and surfaces from my memory, as if I have blurred the outlines of a photograph with an online editing tool. Still, the lights are something out – white and crystalline, like miniature chandeliers casting reflections across the water.
Thoughts create skylines
I try to see the stars through;
light pollution swallows
and burps up a moon
you have to shield
your eyes to see.
It’s too artificial.
Slow footfalls down dead streets.
They don’t live here, anymore.
They don’t live here, anymore.
I count the wildflowers
stroking past my fingers,
and ask them of loneliness.
“Define it, please,” I ask the lilacs.
They sing to me of the absence of stars,
and I confide, “It’s okay, I never see them, either.”
This night wasn’t like any other night. It was cold and wet. The skyline was black against the purple sky. Nothing was left in those buildings. The war made sure of that. If only there was a way to bring it back to life. The way it used to be.