I told my cat that I had his face. He flopped over on his side. I no logger had his face. Then he grabbed my hand with both paws and tried biting me. I grabbed his face again before he could sink his teeth in. He tried to claw me with back paws and failed. I pulled my hand away spanked him and he ran away.
Lindsay
I looked around. Tall trees and shrubs lined the lake. Behind the mountains, the sun was quickly setting. I needed to find a place to set up camp for the night. It was getting cold, so I gathered some STICKS and made a fire.
Sticks. Not really a lot to say about sticks unless your thinking about when you were a kid, singing 5-6 pick up sticks, or throwing a stick for your dog- seeing your puppy the happiest animal in the world, sticks burning in the fire where you roasted your first marshmellow. Or the time in your teens when you rolled around with that boy in the grass and mom asked where the stick in your hair came from. Something so simple can bring a lot of joy.
The song sticks in my head and won’t leave me alone. All day long I hear the words of some annoying wanna-be star and I can’t think. I can’t get away from it – it’s making me crazy. “Hey Micky! Hey Micky!” Surely, I must be in Hell.
i played pick up sticks when i was younger. i don’t understand what all the hype was about though. you threw it all up and they landed on the ground. and then you picked them up. people got mad at me when i used cards, or marbles, or coins. what was so special about sticks?
Nise Jo
Sticks are for building bonfires and roasting marshmallows over the fire. They are great to play with for dogs.
danielle
Better to be hit with sticks than stones, I hear. What you hear sticks with you. I don’t like the word “sticks” that much. Sticky is better . What is this website and will I like it? Should I bookmark it? I’m sick…that’s a lot like stick. I’m not in the mood to do this, but I want to try it to see if I like it. What’s the next word, I wonder. Sticks, sticks, sticks. Sticks and stones may break my bones.
Rebecca
Sticks remind me of bonfires. Bonfires on summer nights are the best. You know what is better than that? Log in a bucket! You don’t really need sticks for that, but you can use them if you like. It makes it smell better and smell like fire which I like. (:
Lydia
they break bones. the moral of the story has only ever been just that. but misery business is just that of words, like the ones creeping from my keyboard and scrolling across the screen. they hurt.
sticks are interesting. sticks can be long or short. they can be pointy or soft. they can smell good or bad. sticks have many different uses. you can make houses out of them…or you can pretend they are magic wands. the world is better because sticks exist. what a great creation god made: sticks. aww yeah.
Tanzz
Sticks are really coo when you think abou them. As little kids, a stick can be whataever we want it to be: a baseball bat, a pencil, a weapon. It’s when we stop using sticks and start using actual baseball bats, pencils, and weapons that we really start to lose our innocence. I remember picking up sticks outside and pretending they were magic wands. If I were to pick up a real magic wand, I’d feel like I have to grow up and use it for its intended purpose. This can be avoided, however, if we use pencils as wands and weapons as baseball bats. But not baseball bats as weapons… that’s bad.
Linda
sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. although i find this to be very untrue while sticks will definitely hurt you so will words….sometimes even worse!
courtney
The floor lay strewn with the sticks. All so small. All so broken.
Their jagged edges lying accusing
Stephen Bocking
sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me…
Shelby Cartwright
Sticks and stones may brake my bones,
but only because I let them.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Wow, what a pile of rubbish. Words hurt feelings and words help feelings. Words have more power than any sticks ever can or will have. That’s a fact.
Thad
Oh my God, oh my God, sticks and stones. I’m propped up on sticks, there’s sticks of metal through my hands, a crown of sticks on my head. Sticks and stones. Sticks and stones breaking my bones.
Sticks. Those parts of trees that sometimes break off in a harsh wind and lay on the ground. Sticks on the ground that your feet snap into pieces when walking through a densely wooded area.
Jessica
Sticks and stones
may break my bones
But it’s your part
to break my heart
John picked up a stick, it was heavy for it’s size. “What a peculiar stick.” he says to himself.
simply
…and stones may break my bones….
but words almost always hurt me.
Funny how, as kids we’re told otherwise, but then we grow a little older and as we grow older we realize a little more each year just how wrong that childhood riddle is.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can break a heart.
Ashley
I really like sticks because they can be used for smores. Sticks are also very useful for poking people and mock sword fights. All in all sticks are an excellent source of entertainment while in the wild camping, or at the cabin around a bonfire to help build the fire.
Brian M.
tumbling like broken elbows down scraped-knee trees in the hotter than balls summer wind
wind like opening an oven in auschwitz and imagining how things can never be quiet again, just quiet is all she wants is.
Claire Edwards
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me…Every experience you have will somehow stick to your memory. Gum sticks just the same, but maybe not in the same place…If I say it too many times or look at it too many times it sounds and looks weird and then I wonder about the English language.
Jenny
Walking through the pasture, all was silent around her. Where were the birds? Why was there no rustling in the undergrowth? Picking up the sticks as she went, her steps slowed down – all the more to hear other sounds. Silence. Eerie silence. And yet, she continued to pick up the sticks.
There, there, poor child.
Sticks and stone may break your bones
But words – they’ll never hurt you.
Not unless you let them, that is.
And, poor child, you’re stronger than that, right?
If you let them, those words will become sticks, sharpened by your own vile mind.
Poor child, it’s sharp enough to hang a pig’s head on.
and stones, right? i’ve never been so injured that i couldn’t walk, couldn’t move. but my hearts been jabbed at enough, by the littlest twigs, the smallest pangs of heart ache, and i couldn’t have left my bed if i wanted to.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.
KaiyaP5
Today I walked away from both white buildings, their squares jutting into the summer blue. Green trees. Grey sidewalks. Every color alive, every branch and leaf clear even through my watering eyes.
There are so many trees,
the sticks just pile up.
Bend over, pick them up, mow the grass,
and the next day
the sticks are there again.
The poor trees just keep falling apart,
bit by bit.
there may be those who words will never hurt, but i’m worried they are ones who live isolated within their own worlds. little room for others. with tall tall walls defending their own sense of self with no flexibility, no consideration. Sticks, stones, words, they all stimulate the same part of the brain in charge of physical and emotional pain, as a result of bruises and heartbreaks. this is according to scientists published in an national geographic article, who obviously know what they are talking about.
I could hear the cicadas screaming from their treetop perches and an old bullfrog belched out it’s warning from a nearby pond. This place had always been home, but since she’d showed up I haven’t felt safe. I can feel her eyes on me, biting into my skin, watching and waiting for just the right moment to attack.
sticks are everywhere. there are lots of ways to use them. people make a living off of collecting sticks somewhere in the world probably. are huge sticks just considered trees? what if i were a giant… trees would definitley just be sticks, and sticks would just be splinters, right?
nature is beautiful.
indeed.
tania
My own personal heaven exists as having music filling one ear and the sounds of breaking sticks and moving rocks filling the other ear as I run through my desolate trails feeling completely at one with nature and the universe.
Sticks and stone will break my bones, but names will never hurt me: bullshit. I would rather be hit with a stick than to hear your name ever again. A name comes with memories, and with memories comes pain. I’ll take the more direct route, thanks.
Elizabeth
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me, right? No, words always hurt more than physical pain. People can throw sticks and stones and whatever they want at me, but they’ll never fully understand that their words cut me open and rip me apart. A stick would be SO much better to me than being called ugly, or fat, or not good enough. There are things I will never understand, but the things I don’t understand the most are why the world is so cruel. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if words were replaced with having a stick thrown at you? Sure, you’d get splinters, but at least you’d forget about it and move on. Words stick with you forever and always, the wounds from sticks will heal.
I told my cat that I had his face. He flopped over on his side. I no logger had his face. Then he grabbed my hand with both paws and tried biting me. I grabbed his face again before he could sink his teeth in. He tried to claw me with back paws and failed. I pulled my hand away spanked him and he ran away.
I looked around. Tall trees and shrubs lined the lake. Behind the mountains, the sun was quickly setting. I needed to find a place to set up camp for the night. It was getting cold, so I gathered some STICKS and made a fire.
Sticks and stones…as the saying goes but I know for a fact that words are one of te worst weapons in the world.
Sticks. Not really a lot to say about sticks unless your thinking about when you were a kid, singing 5-6 pick up sticks, or throwing a stick for your dog- seeing your puppy the happiest animal in the world, sticks burning in the fire where you roasted your first marshmellow. Or the time in your teens when you rolled around with that boy in the grass and mom asked where the stick in your hair came from. Something so simple can bring a lot of joy.
It sticks to me, the bundle of sticks on me.
The song sticks in my head and won’t leave me alone. All day long I hear the words of some annoying wanna-be star and I can’t think. I can’t get away from it – it’s making me crazy. “Hey Micky! Hey Micky!” Surely, I must be in Hell.
i played pick up sticks when i was younger. i don’t understand what all the hype was about though. you threw it all up and they landed on the ground. and then you picked them up. people got mad at me when i used cards, or marbles, or coins. what was so special about sticks?
Sticks are for building bonfires and roasting marshmallows over the fire. They are great to play with for dogs.
Better to be hit with sticks than stones, I hear. What you hear sticks with you. I don’t like the word “sticks” that much. Sticky is better . What is this website and will I like it? Should I bookmark it? I’m sick…that’s a lot like stick. I’m not in the mood to do this, but I want to try it to see if I like it. What’s the next word, I wonder. Sticks, sticks, sticks. Sticks and stones may break my bones.
Sticks remind me of bonfires. Bonfires on summer nights are the best. You know what is better than that? Log in a bucket! You don’t really need sticks for that, but you can use them if you like. It makes it smell better and smell like fire which I like. (:
they break bones. the moral of the story has only ever been just that. but misery business is just that of words, like the ones creeping from my keyboard and scrolling across the screen. they hurt.
sticks are interesting. sticks can be long or short. they can be pointy or soft. they can smell good or bad. sticks have many different uses. you can make houses out of them…or you can pretend they are magic wands. the world is better because sticks exist. what a great creation god made: sticks. aww yeah.
Sticks are really coo when you think abou them. As little kids, a stick can be whataever we want it to be: a baseball bat, a pencil, a weapon. It’s when we stop using sticks and start using actual baseball bats, pencils, and weapons that we really start to lose our innocence. I remember picking up sticks outside and pretending they were magic wands. If I were to pick up a real magic wand, I’d feel like I have to grow up and use it for its intended purpose. This can be avoided, however, if we use pencils as wands and weapons as baseball bats. But not baseball bats as weapons… that’s bad.
sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. although i find this to be very untrue while sticks will definitely hurt you so will words….sometimes even worse!
The floor lay strewn with the sticks. All so small. All so broken.
Their jagged edges lying accusing
sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me…
Sticks and stones may brake my bones,
but only because I let them.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Wow, what a pile of rubbish. Words hurt feelings and words help feelings. Words have more power than any sticks ever can or will have. That’s a fact.
Oh my God, oh my God, sticks and stones. I’m propped up on sticks, there’s sticks of metal through my hands, a crown of sticks on my head. Sticks and stones. Sticks and stones breaking my bones.
Sticks. Those parts of trees that sometimes break off in a harsh wind and lay on the ground. Sticks on the ground that your feet snap into pieces when walking through a densely wooded area.
Sticks and stones
may break my bones
But it’s your part
to break my heart
John picked up a stick, it was heavy for it’s size. “What a peculiar stick.” he says to himself.
…and stones may break my bones….
but words almost always hurt me.
Funny how, as kids we’re told otherwise, but then we grow a little older and as we grow older we realize a little more each year just how wrong that childhood riddle is.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can break a heart.
I really like sticks because they can be used for smores. Sticks are also very useful for poking people and mock sword fights. All in all sticks are an excellent source of entertainment while in the wild camping, or at the cabin around a bonfire to help build the fire.
tumbling like broken elbows down scraped-knee trees in the hotter than balls summer wind
wind like opening an oven in auschwitz and imagining how things can never be quiet again, just quiet is all she wants is.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me…Every experience you have will somehow stick to your memory. Gum sticks just the same, but maybe not in the same place…If I say it too many times or look at it too many times it sounds and looks weird and then I wonder about the English language.
Walking through the pasture, all was silent around her. Where were the birds? Why was there no rustling in the undergrowth? Picking up the sticks as she went, her steps slowed down – all the more to hear other sounds. Silence. Eerie silence. And yet, she continued to pick up the sticks.
There, there, poor child.
Sticks and stone may break your bones
But words – they’ll never hurt you.
Not unless you let them, that is.
And, poor child, you’re stronger than that, right?
If you let them, those words will become sticks, sharpened by your own vile mind.
Poor child, it’s sharp enough to hang a pig’s head on.
I hate when my shoe sticks to my foot as I’m walking down the hall. You can hear it, each step. Don’t know why it’s embarrassing.
and stones, right? i’ve never been so injured that i couldn’t walk, couldn’t move. but my hearts been jabbed at enough, by the littlest twigs, the smallest pangs of heart ache, and i couldn’t have left my bed if i wanted to.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.
Today I walked away from both white buildings, their squares jutting into the summer blue. Green trees. Grey sidewalks. Every color alive, every branch and leaf clear even through my watering eyes.
There are so many trees,
the sticks just pile up.
Bend over, pick them up, mow the grass,
and the next day
the sticks are there again.
The poor trees just keep falling apart,
bit by bit.
there may be those who words will never hurt, but i’m worried they are ones who live isolated within their own worlds. little room for others. with tall tall walls defending their own sense of self with no flexibility, no consideration. Sticks, stones, words, they all stimulate the same part of the brain in charge of physical and emotional pain, as a result of bruises and heartbreaks. this is according to scientists published in an national geographic article, who obviously know what they are talking about.
That drawer sticks
she tells him
Leave it for me
there’s a trick to it
I’ll get it later
Wanting to get away
anyway, he dismisses
his original intention
with a wave of whatever
Alone, she slides the
drawer open to all of
her sweet memories
before whatever.
I could hear the cicadas screaming from their treetop perches and an old bullfrog belched out it’s warning from a nearby pond. This place had always been home, but since she’d showed up I haven’t felt safe. I can feel her eyes on me, biting into my skin, watching and waiting for just the right moment to attack.
sticks are everywhere. there are lots of ways to use them. people make a living off of collecting sticks somewhere in the world probably. are huge sticks just considered trees? what if i were a giant… trees would definitley just be sticks, and sticks would just be splinters, right?
nature is beautiful.
indeed.
My own personal heaven exists as having music filling one ear and the sounds of breaking sticks and moving rocks filling the other ear as I run through my desolate trails feeling completely at one with nature and the universe.
Sticks and stone will break my bones, but names will never hurt me: bullshit. I would rather be hit with a stick than to hear your name ever again. A name comes with memories, and with memories comes pain. I’ll take the more direct route, thanks.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me, right? No, words always hurt more than physical pain. People can throw sticks and stones and whatever they want at me, but they’ll never fully understand that their words cut me open and rip me apart. A stick would be SO much better to me than being called ugly, or fat, or not good enough. There are things I will never understand, but the things I don’t understand the most are why the world is so cruel. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if words were replaced with having a stick thrown at you? Sure, you’d get splinters, but at least you’d forget about it and move on. Words stick with you forever and always, the wounds from sticks will heal.