oh goodness. you have no idea how much love i have for sticks. first of all, they are in my last name. i take it back. they aren’t in my last name. one of them is in my last name. so is a cap. i mean, how important are they? without them there are no smores, no crab cakes, jk, hahahahha, so funny, no yummy butter cream sticks with lettuce and not even to mention the need for cat cream. not that i like to eat cats or anything…
Lily
In westport camping I remember having to collect sticks for the fire although i know it refers to counrty places in america for whatever reason. kInda sounds a bit st
Allana
Leave it to the ground, sticks. They are every size, pieces of wood that have fallen off the vine. She looks like a stick, thin, tall, frail. I wonder if I put two sticks together can I make a doll that looks like her with arms and legs.
They picked up the sticks and decided it was time to begin. We all looked at each other and realized what this meant…things would never be the same again. With a 10 second countdown, they began to poke the dead dog, causing the bloated
Sheila
sticks with you. memories from a distant past. cells undiminished by time. stick with you.
patricia
pick up sticks are very useful for playing with children and infants also, when doing homework, one wonders if it’s feasable to do so whole doing it at the same time..one really wonders at the ability to multi-task. women are especially good at it. some men are too
wse
Running for her life, she went straight onward from backdoor. The woods. She knew the trees would hide her. She kept up her paces, never stopping as the sticks broke underneath her Nike’s.
Johnny
sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. screw that, words will always hurt you. you can be poked and prodded by many sticks and pelted with huge stones and although it may hurt like hell, i’d much rather have my body beaten up than my heart and soul. i’m sick of my brain being tired from all the hurtful words that stick.
sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. you’ve all heard that saying over and over and over many times. and guess what, it’s still not even true. words hurt way more than fucking sticks. sticks are just pieces of wood. words are solid. words are something that everyone has to use against everyone else. you could get beat by a stick and pelted by a stone over and over and sure that hurts like hell, but when you’re repeatedly getting told you’re stupid and worthless, those objects mean nothing.
Ali
sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me. that’s not true. words can hurt you more than sticks ever will. have you ever been called a slut? or worthless? or hopeless? that can hurt much more than being beaten by sticks, or kids throwing things at you in the playground. it’s the kind of stuff that makes you cry at night, the kind of stuff that sticks.
laura
Sticks isn’t easy to write about. It makes me think about the hedge I’ve spent so much time on and the …… stones can break my bones but names will never hurt me!
Sticks you can hit someone with, sticks you can defend yourself with, sticks you can eat, sticks you can use to make your dog run around. Sticks make a tree hold up, sticks you can make wands out of! We are stuck with sticks
ana
It was agony. Red hot fire that ripped through my bones and ate at my muscles and filled my eyes until I couldn’t see. I bit my tongue- anything to distract from the pain. Another rock was thrown, heavy and cumbersome, and I silently wondered how someone so small could heft something so large. Not a second later and it had landed with a sickening crack on my femur (the non-broken one) and snapped the bone in two. I screamed, my throat tearing from the pressure.
When i said sticks and stones may break my bones… i didn’t mean it literally.
Long things that children use to make things fun. Horses and brooms; wands and things for your house. They fall off a tree and can be in any shape or size. Some green and some brown. They burn easily.
Caelen
sticks are noble and thin. with long and gentle figure, they dance and they sing. they take their sticks hands and embrace you and life.
Sticks are the little brothers of trees who never get the glory; the unsung heroes of our world. They get burned, snapped, tossed, thrown, stepped on, and generally mistreated with no appreciation. So here’s to sticks.
sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me….is that right? not sure….doesnt really make sense because words will always hurt. It’s called insults and they will stay with you for the rest of your life. Thats how serial killers are made.
Fi
sticks. long thin wooden pieces that will poke your eyes out. Starts with st and ends with ick. s.
Amy
I hope that for once in my life my resolution sticks! I come up with great ideas of how to improve my behavior, minimize damage to myself and others, but the resolutions never stick. I’m a very weak person and then I get down on myself, which “unsticks” yet another resolution!
Sticks are generally found on the ground, beneath shady trees. They tend to be brown and brittle, but have been seen, on occasion, to be of other such colors and textures. Sticks are awfully popular among many different species – dogs chase them, humans whittle them and use them to support themselves during walks, and beavers build homes out of them.
Tamra
The sticks were too damp to light. The woman was tied to the top of the heap, the bonfire – but there was no fire; there couldn’t be. The tear tracks on her face had dried up long ago. The crowd had stopped braying, wondering if what they were doing was right, if this was divine intervention or-
Or witchcraft. She was a witch, you see.
Luna
sticks and stones, i’m all alone, the memory of where you touched my hand sticks in my memory like glue. i can’t stick to this without you. i’m stuck. sticky stick in the mud, we stuck each other
oliver danni
I knew a man who had unexplainable joy when finding the just-right stick for his fire. So much so, i suppose it was almost like an obsession! His pile of sticks continued to grow far beyond the need of the full year ahead of him, but in relation to his pile, so grew his joy.
When i was young, i visited my grandmother and the next door neighbour taught me to play poo-sticks. I got bitten by a red ant. She died a year or so later.
Jake Holman
“Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never harm me.” We learn this saying when we are very young, when teasing is the norm. It is something we say, but does it ring true? Words can be harmful.
are long and remind me of southpark fish sticks episode with kanye west. and nothing else. except that bug that looks like a branch and it’s creepy.made of wood? hmm. sticks. rhyme with richard
eva simcic
and stones may break my bones, but words will always hurt me. there was a time when words prickled each ventricle in my body, plucked at my sanity to madness and i danced and flames rose like ash in the wind, gone, towards yesterday and past then.
lulu
Sticks and stones may break my bones but I will never fall! Pain may come and go, but Jesus will get me through. Build your house of sticks and it will come tumbling down. Build it out of jesus’s solid word, and thrive forever!
Chels
sticks break my soul and mind. I am a destroyed house of dreams. I am made of sticks.
Ani
“Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me,” Sue cried out, not meaning a single word of it. She said it because it was the thing one should say in such a situation, she thought. You must keep up your appearance.
stevelw
I coughed, blood.
The addiction had risen up inside me like a foul beast.
It started the same way it always did.
To look cool and at parties.
He always liked the way a cigarette looked in my lips.
My red lips, so full of life.
Now they’re lifeless and I am too.
Braden Scanlan
Bang, bom, crash!
The sound of skins and cymbals resonates throughout the room,
I pound and pound, hammering away at the kit.
Sticks of butter –
she ate them
slowly slick and
slippery ‘tween
fattest of fingers
Her lips glowed
in the hot sun and we
knew there would
be none left for
the picnic’s corn.
oh goodness. you have no idea how much love i have for sticks. first of all, they are in my last name. i take it back. they aren’t in my last name. one of them is in my last name. so is a cap. i mean, how important are they? without them there are no smores, no crab cakes, jk, hahahahha, so funny, no yummy butter cream sticks with lettuce and not even to mention the need for cat cream. not that i like to eat cats or anything…
In westport camping I remember having to collect sticks for the fire although i know it refers to counrty places in america for whatever reason. kInda sounds a bit st
Leave it to the ground, sticks. They are every size, pieces of wood that have fallen off the vine. She looks like a stick, thin, tall, frail. I wonder if I put two sticks together can I make a doll that looks like her with arms and legs.
They picked up the sticks and decided it was time to begin. We all looked at each other and realized what this meant…things would never be the same again. With a 10 second countdown, they began to poke the dead dog, causing the bloated
sticks with you. memories from a distant past. cells undiminished by time. stick with you.
pick up sticks are very useful for playing with children and infants also, when doing homework, one wonders if it’s feasable to do so whole doing it at the same time..one really wonders at the ability to multi-task. women are especially good at it. some men are too
Running for her life, she went straight onward from backdoor. The woods. She knew the trees would hide her. She kept up her paces, never stopping as the sticks broke underneath her Nike’s.
sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. screw that, words will always hurt you. you can be poked and prodded by many sticks and pelted with huge stones and although it may hurt like hell, i’d much rather have my body beaten up than my heart and soul. i’m sick of my brain being tired from all the hurtful words that stick.
Pick up sticks, is a fun game.
sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. you’ve all heard that saying over and over and over many times. and guess what, it’s still not even true. words hurt way more than fucking sticks. sticks are just pieces of wood. words are solid. words are something that everyone has to use against everyone else. you could get beat by a stick and pelted by a stone over and over and sure that hurts like hell, but when you’re repeatedly getting told you’re stupid and worthless, those objects mean nothing.
sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me. that’s not true. words can hurt you more than sticks ever will. have you ever been called a slut? or worthless? or hopeless? that can hurt much more than being beaten by sticks, or kids throwing things at you in the playground. it’s the kind of stuff that makes you cry at night, the kind of stuff that sticks.
Sticks isn’t easy to write about. It makes me think about the hedge I’ve spent so much time on and the …… stones can break my bones but names will never hurt me!
a servant may tremble but it’s a sign of respect.
Sticks you can hit someone with, sticks you can defend yourself with, sticks you can eat, sticks you can use to make your dog run around. Sticks make a tree hold up, sticks you can make wands out of! We are stuck with sticks
It was agony. Red hot fire that ripped through my bones and ate at my muscles and filled my eyes until I couldn’t see. I bit my tongue- anything to distract from the pain. Another rock was thrown, heavy and cumbersome, and I silently wondered how someone so small could heft something so large. Not a second later and it had landed with a sickening crack on my femur (the non-broken one) and snapped the bone in two. I screamed, my throat tearing from the pressure.
When i said sticks and stones may break my bones… i didn’t mean it literally.
Long things that children use to make things fun. Horses and brooms; wands and things for your house. They fall off a tree and can be in any shape or size. Some green and some brown. They burn easily.
sticks are noble and thin. with long and gentle figure, they dance and they sing. they take their sticks hands and embrace you and life.
Snap
Break
To my guns
Up ya
Fags
Bundle
Packaged
….i dont have any idea what to think though the point is to not think.even though not thinking requires thinking……blahblahblahblahblah.:O :O :O crap.
sticks and stones, love. I want to ride on your stick.
Stick were the bane of mu existence. Tripping me at every turn, they had no mercy. And there was no way to control it.
The STRONGEST,
they say,
is the man who carries
THE BIGGEST
STICK.
But I say,
the STRONGEST
is the one
who DOESN’T RUN
from him.
Sticks are the little brothers of trees who never get the glory; the unsung heroes of our world. They get burned, snapped, tossed, thrown, stepped on, and generally mistreated with no appreciation. So here’s to sticks.
sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me….is that right? not sure….doesnt really make sense because words will always hurt. It’s called insults and they will stay with you for the rest of your life. Thats how serial killers are made.
sticks. long thin wooden pieces that will poke your eyes out. Starts with st and ends with ick. s.
I hope that for once in my life my resolution sticks! I come up with great ideas of how to improve my behavior, minimize damage to myself and others, but the resolutions never stick. I’m a very weak person and then I get down on myself, which “unsticks” yet another resolution!
Sticks are generally found on the ground, beneath shady trees. They tend to be brown and brittle, but have been seen, on occasion, to be of other such colors and textures. Sticks are awfully popular among many different species – dogs chase them, humans whittle them and use them to support themselves during walks, and beavers build homes out of them.
The sticks were too damp to light. The woman was tied to the top of the heap, the bonfire – but there was no fire; there couldn’t be. The tear tracks on her face had dried up long ago. The crowd had stopped braying, wondering if what they were doing was right, if this was divine intervention or-
Or witchcraft. She was a witch, you see.
sticks and stones, i’m all alone, the memory of where you touched my hand sticks in my memory like glue. i can’t stick to this without you. i’m stuck. sticky stick in the mud, we stuck each other
I knew a man who had unexplainable joy when finding the just-right stick for his fire. So much so, i suppose it was almost like an obsession! His pile of sticks continued to grow far beyond the need of the full year ahead of him, but in relation to his pile, so grew his joy.
When i was young, i visited my grandmother and the next door neighbour taught me to play poo-sticks. I got bitten by a red ant. She died a year or so later.
“Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never harm me.” We learn this saying when we are very young, when teasing is the norm. It is something we say, but does it ring true? Words can be harmful.
are long and remind me of southpark fish sticks episode with kanye west. and nothing else. except that bug that looks like a branch and it’s creepy.made of wood? hmm. sticks. rhyme with richard
and stones may break my bones, but words will always hurt me. there was a time when words prickled each ventricle in my body, plucked at my sanity to madness and i danced and flames rose like ash in the wind, gone, towards yesterday and past then.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but I will never fall! Pain may come and go, but Jesus will get me through. Build your house of sticks and it will come tumbling down. Build it out of jesus’s solid word, and thrive forever!
sticks break my soul and mind. I am a destroyed house of dreams. I am made of sticks.
“Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me,” Sue cried out, not meaning a single word of it. She said it because it was the thing one should say in such a situation, she thought. You must keep up your appearance.
I coughed, blood.
The addiction had risen up inside me like a foul beast.
It started the same way it always did.
To look cool and at parties.
He always liked the way a cigarette looked in my lips.
My red lips, so full of life.
Now they’re lifeless and I am too.
Bang, bom, crash!
The sound of skins and cymbals resonates throughout the room,
I pound and pound, hammering away at the kit.