The wheels on the bus go round and round,
Round and round,
Round and round,
The wheels on the bus go round and round,
All through the town!!!!!!!
(I really couldn’t think of anything better…)
wheels deals heels and feels. I looked at this and my time was already started. Wheels turning in my head and I have no place to go , popped tires of inspiration. Where is my mind? Step on it and push to find what is inside.
The wheels go round and round. Life goes round and round. On the wheel of life, we all go round and round. But should we stop going round the wheel, we simply get crushed and become redushed to cosmic waste. So keep moving, don’t stop. Don’t be a waste.
Devin Krist
One day long ago, there was a old man who owned a car. He had no idea what would come of that car at the time, but that set of wheels ended up becoming his ticket to freedom. He was a prisoner of war in 1922, and without knowledge of the soon to come help from the Allied troops he was hopeless.
Nyomi Tarpley
She felt the bus lurch into motion and she held her breath as they started to pull away. This was it. She was really doing this.
wheels, wheelbarrows
fitted on cars, conveyor belts,
round, they are spinning and spinning
carry on the load of the modern universe upon its circular self.
how miraculous indeed.
The wheels were irreparably broken. Just like the steering wheel and the cuppling. The whole car was basically just another piece of trash to throw onto the dump.
It was only the memory that made her use it one last time, this time to take advantage of the broken motor’s gas, which kept creeping into the car itself all the time.
Anastasia
The wheels of thought in my brain come roaring in the early morning hours of July the 6th. Not sure why I tossed and turned so much last night; likely the heat (72+ I have trouble sleeping). I sit at my laptop; paying bills, browsing cars and hoping for the opportunity for a new home next year. The wheels of time slow for no one. We pretend to struggle through our lives; seeking out pleasures, laughs and getaways from reality. The eventual wheel of truth brings with it, those we desire with a side of pain and loss.
Gary
The wheels moved slowly across the hot pavement. The encrusted dirt still wedged between the tracks from last nights late night trip. Although the sun shined brightly, his dark soul turned like the wheels on the hot pavement.
KCS
The wheels were dusty and the spider webs between the spokes created an intricate trap for any passing flies that got too close. christina tapped the web with her small piece of grass, waiting to see if the spider would dare come out and bite her.
Laura Paterson
the wheels on the car came to a halt, i jerked my neck forward which caused the wheels to fall of the car
ethan dimmock
The wheels of madness have dark red and black spikes made from fear, anxiety, anger, lust for revenge and self-satisfaction. And I want to break them so much… but how could you roll on the road with that filmsy, flexible and empty circle of a wheel without any spikes to hold it strong?
Unmoving plastic boot; not even a chance to start turning
ankles tied with no Houdini in sight;
stalled in my mind, in the stares, in the paperwork covered in pencil chicken scratch
that is somehow official enough to warrant an end to my misadventure
leaving my face hot,
eyes of salt fire,
wallet empty,
the clock ticking down the days until I die shows a smaller number than ever before. Be nice to break a stereotype; be mean because they are using it against you. You as you is not enough to overcome a challenge, a truth that stings and burns true; fingers pressing against the glass case wall of this bathroom, this office, this town, this island. My feet can not carry me far enough away, so I crouch and wait for them to break instead.
Maybe the car would end up on the curb, but it should have moved.
চাকা আছে বলেই আমরা চলতে পারি। যদিও আমরা বারবার চাকা আবিষ্কার করতে চাই না তবু চাকার উন্নতি চাই। চাকা যেন সমনসময় ঘোরে এবং দ্রুত কোথাও নিয়ে যায় সেটা সবসময়ই চাই। চাকা হোক চলার প্রতীক।
Maybe she was crying over the fact that her cat fell down the well. Maybe she was crying because her dog ran in the street. But maybe- just maybe- she’s crying because while she was sleeping, her husband named their newborn baby, “wheels.”
Kits
i have never been behind the wheel
of a car
of my life
everything has been done for me
while i want to change that
i don’t understand how
i need to take control
i need to take control
i need to take control
crash
The wheels on the bus go round and round. As does life. Everything that is new becomes old, then new again. Someone asked me if I had a facebook today, to which I answered no. When asked why I said I just don’t. The real reason, is that I do not want to get run over by the wheels of loneliness when they turn. The feeling of being forgotten about does not exist when I know there is not a way for people to find me. I do not have to worry about the fact they have not gone looking for me. I do not have to get run over and smashed by the wheels of hurt when I find yet again, I was/am a speed bump on a road so many have traveled. Road kill on the wheels of the bus full of people living a happy life, without me.
ab
the wheels on the bus go round and round. round and round round and round.. the wheels on the bus go round and round and this is not helping. wheels are round and move around.
nicolita
So long as the wheels kept things spinning along at 60 miles per hour, Sophie felt safe and secure. She never knew that Irene was drunk most of the time.
I read about dead girls, the way old starlets died. I do this to quell this anxiety that creeps in every day that I am mandated to leave the house. It may or may not help. I worry about my home when I am not in it…that an electrical outlet will burst into flame, or that I forgot to turn the stove top coffee pot off.
The old red Jeep Wrangler had been abandoned in front of our cabin for over fourteen years now. It sat on only three wheels, the fourth of which had been wrecked beyond recognition, and browning moss grew around its haggard alloy frame and steering wheel. It had seen many fun joyrides when my grandfather was still alive; now, it merely sat like a worn down metal skeleton, refusing to decompose.
peel off the wheels
of future schemes
my sunken skin
committed a sin
or two
for you, my person
just for you
The wheels on the bus go round and round,
Round and round,
Round and round,
The wheels on the bus go round and round,
All through the town!!!!!!!
(I really couldn’t think of anything better…)
wheels deals heels and feels. I looked at this and my time was already started. Wheels turning in my head and I have no place to go , popped tires of inspiration. Where is my mind? Step on it and push to find what is inside.
The wheels go round and round. Life goes round and round. On the wheel of life, we all go round and round. But should we stop going round the wheel, we simply get crushed and become redushed to cosmic waste. So keep moving, don’t stop. Don’t be a waste.
One day long ago, there was a old man who owned a car. He had no idea what would come of that car at the time, but that set of wheels ended up becoming his ticket to freedom. He was a prisoner of war in 1922, and without knowledge of the soon to come help from the Allied troops he was hopeless.
She felt the bus lurch into motion and she held her breath as they started to pull away. This was it. She was really doing this.
wheels, wheelbarrows
fitted on cars, conveyor belts,
round, they are spinning and spinning
carry on the load of the modern universe upon its circular self.
how miraculous indeed.
The wheels were irreparably broken. Just like the steering wheel and the cuppling. The whole car was basically just another piece of trash to throw onto the dump.
It was only the memory that made her use it one last time, this time to take advantage of the broken motor’s gas, which kept creeping into the car itself all the time.
The wheels of thought in my brain come roaring in the early morning hours of July the 6th. Not sure why I tossed and turned so much last night; likely the heat (72+ I have trouble sleeping). I sit at my laptop; paying bills, browsing cars and hoping for the opportunity for a new home next year. The wheels of time slow for no one. We pretend to struggle through our lives; seeking out pleasures, laughs and getaways from reality. The eventual wheel of truth brings with it, those we desire with a side of pain and loss.
The wheels moved slowly across the hot pavement. The encrusted dirt still wedged between the tracks from last nights late night trip. Although the sun shined brightly, his dark soul turned like the wheels on the hot pavement.
The wheels were dusty and the spider webs between the spokes created an intricate trap for any passing flies that got too close. christina tapped the web with her small piece of grass, waiting to see if the spider would dare come out and bite her.
the wheels on the car came to a halt, i jerked my neck forward which caused the wheels to fall of the car
The wheels of madness have dark red and black spikes made from fear, anxiety, anger, lust for revenge and self-satisfaction. And I want to break them so much… but how could you roll on the road with that filmsy, flexible and empty circle of a wheel without any spikes to hold it strong?
Unmoving plastic boot; not even a chance to start turning
ankles tied with no Houdini in sight;
stalled in my mind, in the stares, in the paperwork covered in pencil chicken scratch
that is somehow official enough to warrant an end to my misadventure
leaving my face hot,
eyes of salt fire,
wallet empty,
the clock ticking down the days until I die shows a smaller number than ever before. Be nice to break a stereotype; be mean because they are using it against you. You as you is not enough to overcome a challenge, a truth that stings and burns true; fingers pressing against the glass case wall of this bathroom, this office, this town, this island. My feet can not carry me far enough away, so I crouch and wait for them to break instead.
Maybe the car would end up on the curb, but it should have moved.
চাকা আছে বলেই আমরা চলতে পারি। যদিও আমরা বারবার চাকা আবিষ্কার করতে চাই না তবু চাকার উন্নতি চাই। চাকা যেন সমনসময় ঘোরে এবং দ্রুত কোথাও নিয়ে যায় সেটা সবসময়ই চাই। চাকা হোক চলার প্রতীক।
Maybe she was crying over the fact that her cat fell down the well. Maybe she was crying because her dog ran in the street. But maybe- just maybe- she’s crying because while she was sleeping, her husband named their newborn baby, “wheels.”
i have never been behind the wheel
of a car
of my life
everything has been done for me
while i want to change that
i don’t understand how
i need to take control
i need to take control
i need to take control
crash
The wheels on the bus go round and round. As does life. Everything that is new becomes old, then new again. Someone asked me if I had a facebook today, to which I answered no. When asked why I said I just don’t. The real reason, is that I do not want to get run over by the wheels of loneliness when they turn. The feeling of being forgotten about does not exist when I know there is not a way for people to find me. I do not have to worry about the fact they have not gone looking for me. I do not have to get run over and smashed by the wheels of hurt when I find yet again, I was/am a speed bump on a road so many have traveled. Road kill on the wheels of the bus full of people living a happy life, without me.
the wheels on the bus go round and round. round and round round and round.. the wheels on the bus go round and round and this is not helping. wheels are round and move around.
So long as the wheels kept things spinning along at 60 miles per hour, Sophie felt safe and secure. She never knew that Irene was drunk most of the time.
I read about dead girls, the way old starlets died. I do this to quell this anxiety that creeps in every day that I am mandated to leave the house. It may or may not help. I worry about my home when I am not in it…that an electrical outlet will burst into flame, or that I forgot to turn the stove top coffee pot off.
a cheese wheel
some meese veal
old oatmeal
(with bits of cereal)
and a banana peel
combine and congeal –
the accidental invention of alloy steel
The old red Jeep Wrangler had been abandoned in front of our cabin for over fourteen years now. It sat on only three wheels, the fourth of which had been wrecked beyond recognition, and browning moss grew around its haggard alloy frame and steering wheel. It had seen many fun joyrides when my grandfather was still alive; now, it merely sat like a worn down metal skeleton, refusing to decompose.