Vines sounds pretty sexy for a word. I only say so because whenever I think of vines I think of slithering serpents tightening around a vine. Vines also make me crave grape or wine. Vines. Everyone needs to love vines!
There’s vines and chains, twisting about and strangling me. Like a noose, they have a choke hold, and I feel myself unable to resist. The pain in my lungs, and the ability to see clearly again – I see death, and I see freedom, at last, from the grey mists and sleepless nights.
Entangling, entwining; it chokes her scratchy body. Its sinister claws cling to her eyes and crawl around her mouth. Its sickly, stickly, sting crushes her bricks. The window panes are etched with intrusion. Fingertips peel the white paint, revealing its bitter insides, sadistically engorging itself in the flakes as they fall. One… by one..
everywhere. climbing the old brickwork, tearing at the mortar, obscuring the windows and doors. so long abandoned, left to the vines. once a full place, a family place, filled with light and laughter. dark now, but
The vines that grew on the fence in the backyard were huge. They grew so fast and big that we could barely see the neighbors yard anymore. I remember looking at those vines and thinking, ‘I wish they were gone.’ My dad eventually cut them and then they were gone. I remember thinking, ‘I wish they were back.’ But they never grew back.
the vines of the tree of life are green and brown. they are every flowing and filled with life. but some people dont likkek it and want to cut them down and get rid of them. why? why must man be so distructive. so cruel. so heartless. is this the world we want to live in? ot pass on to our children and the children after
Ash
he rushed through the jungle
not a thought in his head
except the primeval fear
for the pain which he dread
the hunters were behind
their guns were booming
through the twisted vines
his feet were moving
The leaves covered more than half the land. All she could do was brush through them, hoping that the path would clear. She already knew it was hopeless, but that it would have been worse not to try at all. She summoned up her courage and faced her troubles once more. As if in constant rebellion, the vines remained a tangled, irretrievable mess.
Shannon
Gargoyle temples slept in the jealous embrace of the vines.
Bellicose whirlygigs hummed darkly over the forest canopy.
Tom sneezed.
ukifaluki
The vines grabbed on to her legs. The thorns cut her skin. Her breath was short. She kept running on and on. There was no escape, no way out of this nightmare on this dark, starless night. She could only run. But she couldn’t run forever…
Stephanie Jennifer
The vines wrapped first around my feet, then started traveling up towards my waist, twirling and dancing like snakes, their veins filled with poison. “Stop please!” I scream, air ripping at my throat. “Help me!” I call but the woods are empty. The air stands still as the green vines wrap around my neck, slowly, methodically. My face is wet with tears and as the vines slide around my eyes, I am cut off from the world, leaving only the echo of my voice as a trace that I had ever existed.
The vines wrapped first around my feet, then started traveling up towards my waist, twirling and dancing like snakes, their veins filled with poison. “Stop please!” I scream, air ripping at my throat. “Help me!” I call but the woods are empty. The air stands still as the green vines wrap around my neck, slowly, methodically. My face is wet with tears and as the vines slide around my eyes, I am cut off from the world, leaving only the echo of my voice as a trace that I had ever existed.
Brooke
Vines climb up their legs and they can’t move, wrap around their arms and pin them to their sides, over their eyes – rising from the earth to tell them not to speak
Lily
Vines climb up their legs and they can’t move, wrap around their arms and pin them to their sides, over their eyes – rising from the earth to tell them not to speak
Lily
The phone lines hung from the poles like vines, strewn randomly in a vineyard of chaos, the result o the previous night’s storm. Paddy took his helmet from the seat of his truck, and grabbed his ladder; It was time to get to work!
tonykeyesjapan
Wow. I didn’t think I had wondered off ‘this’ far. I couldn’t even see the sky anymore. Shit. It made me think about Tarzan and then I started to get scared. I wasn’t anywhere near as jungle talented as Tarzan. I was dead.
They twisted, tangled, climbing over each other in knots. They covered every living thing that got in their way. I wondered if I stood still long enough, if the kudzu would cover me too–would cover all the mistakes I had made in the past week.
The vines are running, sprawling, overtaking the entire estate. It is a building of crumbling white stone, forsaken marble and cracks larger than my six feet, three inches. I do not know what I will do with this place.
Something tells me that the secrets lurking within are worth the effort and the wait, should I decide to do the unthinkable and attempt to keep this rubble. If I should decide to keep it and explore and restore, there may be treasure buried beneath it.
There may be more than treasure. There could be something else. Hard work and pure intent has never led anyone wrong. There are things I can sort in heart and head, if I have the emptiness to myself.
If.
So much.
Promise, future and life is what I seek. Should I take this up, as these vines beckon to me, there is a promise carried on the wind. A promise worth seeking.
vines are long. they are captivating. they can hold you together or tear you apart at the seems. the leaves are shapley and wonderous, full of questions. they lead on for miles, never knowing where they will end up.
cassia
vines snaked down the chimney, across the wooden floor and right into her throat. they dug their nails into the sides of throat and crawled into her soul.
Words remind me of vines. They’re remarkable. Like vines, words can cling to any surface. Stark glowing color in graffiti calling out for beauty, for justice against oppressors, staking a claim for challenge, invoking anger, or tossed up in folly as a defiance or kicks. Like vines, words can smother a surface and choke it to death, cutting into what they encircle with the precision of a surgeon in motion so slow, the blade itself doesn’t register in our awareness until long after the act is done. Like vines, words can sprawl out across the ground spreading quickly, rooting themselves firmly in fresh soil and pushing runners in all directions. Strands can take on lives of their own whether we wish them to or not. Like vines, words can spread to new heights, new lows, squeeze in tiny places, flourish in unchecked spaces, suspend themselves in air reaching for anything it can anchor upon for a new grip. Like vines, words can be nourishing, providing fruit for one who tends it carefully or one who falls across it in a random discovery for an unexpected treat. Like vines, some words carry toxins that get under your skin and itch or burn or even kill. Barbed to harm, some can make you bleed. Some vines can dazzle us with colorful beauty and fragrant flowers to fawn over, others by their delicate simplicity. Well-nourished vines have a strength and vitality that keep them coming back, sprouting like phoenixes from a place we thought them erased pumping underground with vigilance, perseverance, and damned stubbornness. Like vines, words can alter their surroundings permanently. They can cover something one wishes to have hidden and when the proper season comes, they pull back the lush unassuming cover and reveal all to anyone wishing to see.
Vines are long and stringy. They can get long and out of control. Tarzan spun on vines. Grapes grown on vines. Some vines are poisonous. they are green. I like vines. they are hard to cut.
kimy
they tangle and grow and i love them they are the creeping edge of nature trying to take back what it once had. what we stole from it. they are the veins of nature. the fingers of Pan. the want and desire to make things back the way they ought to be. yeah. fucking vines. bring them on.
Jake Ferranti
bright green and climbing up the wall, the vijnes twist and twirl, they sit on the wall and call out to the passers by.
tangling me in the inner midst of your presence.
Your words like vines around my soul.
arranging themselves, fastened tight around every cell of me.
They grow lush.
They grew up out of no where. Suddenly. Surrounding me. I could not escape.
The vines at fist simply wrapped around me, but they they began to tighten, pulling me into their grasp. I don’t know when I stopped struggling. Perhaps is was never, perhaps I had never even begun.
There were vines growing all around me. I couldn’t move. I realized I was trapped in my own mind. Without these vines, i would be free to do anything, to be anyone. But my mind was holding me back. I didn’t know what to do. I just had to sit there and watch as I was engulfed.
Lauren
The water shines like crystal
The cavern is so cold
so old
but the vines are so new
so green
and lush
and strong
but they are so sinister
Peeking out from cracks
Holding the structure together
Spikes
celia
They’re all over. All over. What to do, what to do? They’re growing and I can’t seem to stop them. They’re covering me. I’m going to suffocate here, in this haunted vineyard and no one will know. Stupid. Stupid! Why did I have to take that dare?!
AndriaR
why are vines only in the jungle. I can think of plenty of practical applications for vines in normal midwestern cities and towns. swinging to work would be cool.
Grows endlessly up the wall. Twisting and turning. Sometimes with thorns. Changing colors with the season. Sometimes binding with other leaves and makes
A strong rope.
Pheef
The vines were covering the old structure so, that she couldn’t tell that underneath it was a jewel just waiting for her to uncover.
As I walk alongside a tattered road, there are these tangling entities wrapping up around me, nothing is as vivid as their sweet constriction. I’m left in it’s trail off of the main road I traveled.
GamblerIII
Tarzan swinging thru the trees fuckin jane smokin with her and his monkey friends beatin his chest like a gorllia just chillin and relaxin not a care in the jungle surrounded by nature
just a man in his own world
Dominic
found in a rain forest. green. deep green. wet. rain. sweet smelling. fresh. wild animals. bright colors. warmth. hard to break or cut. turn into snakes in all cartoons/fairytales
The vines were wrapping themselves around my heart, strangling my love little by little. When we first met, there was nothing around my heart but hope for the future.
Carol Bailey Floyd
Their graceful tendrils trickle down from the old, abandoned trellis, enveloping its edges, its corners, its front, and its back. Beside the old house where the excitement of each day depends on how many kids pass by it while riding their skateboards. All is quiet and still, but the vines, they continue to grow, unencumbered with space, uninterrupted with time, uninhibited by humans.
Vines sounds pretty sexy for a word. I only say so because whenever I think of vines I think of slithering serpents tightening around a vine. Vines also make me crave grape or wine. Vines. Everyone needs to love vines!
There’s vines and chains, twisting about and strangling me. Like a noose, they have a choke hold, and I feel myself unable to resist. The pain in my lungs, and the ability to see clearly again – I see death, and I see freedom, at last, from the grey mists and sleepless nights.
there are a lot of grapes in it.
must be a good year to start in wine making.
maybe it will be successful.
or maybe not.
The vines moved, serpentine, across the floor, all the while coiling themselves around his legs of their own accord.
Entangling, entwining; it chokes her scratchy body. Its sinister claws cling to her eyes and crawl around her mouth. Its sickly, stickly, sting crushes her bricks. The window panes are etched with intrusion. Fingertips peel the white paint, revealing its bitter insides, sadistically engorging itself in the flakes as they fall. One… by one..
everywhere. climbing the old brickwork, tearing at the mortar, obscuring the windows and doors. so long abandoned, left to the vines. once a full place, a family place, filled with light and laughter. dark now, but
The vines that grew on the fence in the backyard were huge. They grew so fast and big that we could barely see the neighbors yard anymore. I remember looking at those vines and thinking, ‘I wish they were gone.’ My dad eventually cut them and then they were gone. I remember thinking, ‘I wish they were back.’ But they never grew back.
the vines of the tree of life are green and brown. they are every flowing and filled with life. but some people dont likkek it and want to cut them down and get rid of them. why? why must man be so distructive. so cruel. so heartless. is this the world we want to live in? ot pass on to our children and the children after
he rushed through the jungle
not a thought in his head
except the primeval fear
for the pain which he dread
the hunters were behind
their guns were booming
through the twisted vines
his feet were moving
The leaves covered more than half the land. All she could do was brush through them, hoping that the path would clear. She already knew it was hopeless, but that it would have been worse not to try at all. She summoned up her courage and faced her troubles once more. As if in constant rebellion, the vines remained a tangled, irretrievable mess.
Gargoyle temples slept in the jealous embrace of the vines.
Bellicose whirlygigs hummed darkly over the forest canopy.
Tom sneezed.
The vines grabbed on to her legs. The thorns cut her skin. Her breath was short. She kept running on and on. There was no escape, no way out of this nightmare on this dark, starless night. She could only run. But she couldn’t run forever…
The vines wrapped first around my feet, then started traveling up towards my waist, twirling and dancing like snakes, their veins filled with poison. “Stop please!” I scream, air ripping at my throat. “Help me!” I call but the woods are empty. The air stands still as the green vines wrap around my neck, slowly, methodically. My face is wet with tears and as the vines slide around my eyes, I am cut off from the world, leaving only the echo of my voice as a trace that I had ever existed.
The vines wrapped first around my feet, then started traveling up towards my waist, twirling and dancing like snakes, their veins filled with poison. “Stop please!” I scream, air ripping at my throat. “Help me!” I call but the woods are empty. The air stands still as the green vines wrap around my neck, slowly, methodically. My face is wet with tears and as the vines slide around my eyes, I am cut off from the world, leaving only the echo of my voice as a trace that I had ever existed.
Vines climb up their legs and they can’t move, wrap around their arms and pin them to their sides, over their eyes – rising from the earth to tell them not to speak
Vines climb up their legs and they can’t move, wrap around their arms and pin them to their sides, over their eyes – rising from the earth to tell them not to speak
The phone lines hung from the poles like vines, strewn randomly in a vineyard of chaos, the result o the previous night’s storm. Paddy took his helmet from the seat of his truck, and grabbed his ladder; It was time to get to work!
Wow. I didn’t think I had wondered off ‘this’ far. I couldn’t even see the sky anymore. Shit. It made me think about Tarzan and then I started to get scared. I wasn’t anywhere near as jungle talented as Tarzan. I was dead.
They twisted, tangled, climbing over each other in knots. They covered every living thing that got in their way. I wondered if I stood still long enough, if the kudzu would cover me too–would cover all the mistakes I had made in the past week.
The vines are running, sprawling, overtaking the entire estate. It is a building of crumbling white stone, forsaken marble and cracks larger than my six feet, three inches. I do not know what I will do with this place.
Something tells me that the secrets lurking within are worth the effort and the wait, should I decide to do the unthinkable and attempt to keep this rubble. If I should decide to keep it and explore and restore, there may be treasure buried beneath it.
There may be more than treasure. There could be something else. Hard work and pure intent has never led anyone wrong. There are things I can sort in heart and head, if I have the emptiness to myself.
If.
So much.
Promise, future and life is what I seek. Should I take this up, as these vines beckon to me, there is a promise carried on the wind. A promise worth seeking.
I could find myself.
vines are long. they are captivating. they can hold you together or tear you apart at the seems. the leaves are shapley and wonderous, full of questions. they lead on for miles, never knowing where they will end up.
vines snaked down the chimney, across the wooden floor and right into her throat. they dug their nails into the sides of throat and crawled into her soul.
Words remind me of vines. They’re remarkable. Like vines, words can cling to any surface. Stark glowing color in graffiti calling out for beauty, for justice against oppressors, staking a claim for challenge, invoking anger, or tossed up in folly as a defiance or kicks. Like vines, words can smother a surface and choke it to death, cutting into what they encircle with the precision of a surgeon in motion so slow, the blade itself doesn’t register in our awareness until long after the act is done. Like vines, words can sprawl out across the ground spreading quickly, rooting themselves firmly in fresh soil and pushing runners in all directions. Strands can take on lives of their own whether we wish them to or not. Like vines, words can spread to new heights, new lows, squeeze in tiny places, flourish in unchecked spaces, suspend themselves in air reaching for anything it can anchor upon for a new grip. Like vines, words can be nourishing, providing fruit for one who tends it carefully or one who falls across it in a random discovery for an unexpected treat. Like vines, some words carry toxins that get under your skin and itch or burn or even kill. Barbed to harm, some can make you bleed. Some vines can dazzle us with colorful beauty and fragrant flowers to fawn over, others by their delicate simplicity. Well-nourished vines have a strength and vitality that keep them coming back, sprouting like phoenixes from a place we thought them erased pumping underground with vigilance, perseverance, and damned stubbornness. Like vines, words can alter their surroundings permanently. They can cover something one wishes to have hidden and when the proper season comes, they pull back the lush unassuming cover and reveal all to anyone wishing to see.
Vines are long and stringy. They can get long and out of control. Tarzan spun on vines. Grapes grown on vines. Some vines are poisonous. they are green. I like vines. they are hard to cut.
they tangle and grow and i love them they are the creeping edge of nature trying to take back what it once had. what we stole from it. they are the veins of nature. the fingers of Pan. the want and desire to make things back the way they ought to be. yeah. fucking vines. bring them on.
bright green and climbing up the wall, the vijnes twist and twirl, they sit on the wall and call out to the passers by.
Vines but, to which fruit do these vines bare. Maybe only a pair.
tangling me in the inner midst of your presence.
Your words like vines around my soul.
arranging themselves, fastened tight around every cell of me.
They grow lush.
They grew up out of no where. Suddenly. Surrounding me. I could not escape.
The vines at fist simply wrapped around me, but they they began to tighten, pulling me into their grasp. I don’t know when I stopped struggling. Perhaps is was never, perhaps I had never even begun.
They never let go.
There were vines growing all around me. I couldn’t move. I realized I was trapped in my own mind. Without these vines, i would be free to do anything, to be anyone. But my mind was holding me back. I didn’t know what to do. I just had to sit there and watch as I was engulfed.
The water shines like crystal
The cavern is so cold
so old
but the vines are so new
so green
and lush
and strong
but they are so sinister
Peeking out from cracks
Holding the structure together
Spikes
They’re all over. All over. What to do, what to do? They’re growing and I can’t seem to stop them. They’re covering me. I’m going to suffocate here, in this haunted vineyard and no one will know. Stupid. Stupid! Why did I have to take that dare?!
why are vines only in the jungle. I can think of plenty of practical applications for vines in normal midwestern cities and towns. swinging to work would be cool.
Grows endlessly up the wall. Twisting and turning. Sometimes with thorns. Changing colors with the season. Sometimes binding with other leaves and makes
A strong rope.
The vines were covering the old structure so, that she couldn’t tell that underneath it was a jewel just waiting for her to uncover.
As I walk alongside a tattered road, there are these tangling entities wrapping up around me, nothing is as vivid as their sweet constriction. I’m left in it’s trail off of the main road I traveled.
Tarzan swinging thru the trees fuckin jane smokin with her and his monkey friends beatin his chest like a gorllia just chillin and relaxin not a care in the jungle surrounded by nature
just a man in his own world
found in a rain forest. green. deep green. wet. rain. sweet smelling. fresh. wild animals. bright colors. warmth. hard to break or cut. turn into snakes in all cartoons/fairytales
The vines were wrapping themselves around my heart, strangling my love little by little. When we first met, there was nothing around my heart but hope for the future.
Their graceful tendrils trickle down from the old, abandoned trellis, enveloping its edges, its corners, its front, and its back. Beside the old house where the excitement of each day depends on how many kids pass by it while riding their skateboards. All is quiet and still, but the vines, they continue to grow, unencumbered with space, uninterrupted with time, uninhibited by humans.