The room froze the air was still. Nothing could make it any more uncomfortable. I was lost and hated every second of it. If I could move it would have worse.
Joshua Norcross
The water was still and reflected Anna perfectly. Her bloodshot eyes, her stained shirt. She tried to wipe the blood from her cheek, but it was too dry.
Esther
water fall brain weather nice day in the middle of the winter , still thinking too much
Irina
A silence here, there’s no movement only the perfect position the air drifts so near. This moment only a peace, or is it a piece of something unencumbered and pure that sets my mind at ease.
i was still in his arms
and i felt safe
so safe
darling catch my tears and wipe them away please
for my heart is not still with you
always quivering, always melting, always singing
with you, but not with me
ivy
stillness feels fathomless, forever and ever to the ocean and back, flying on wings with gossamer blades of fabric glued to the insoles of my heart. I will be still be well, no matter what
PJ Colando
Still… Martha knew many things about te word still…
You have to be still while someone brushes your hair
Or it hurts, still for a photo to be taken… Still while you listen to a boring lecture from your aunt
It’s a tranquility that he finds in these moments, the times when blood freezes on his lips and words lie on the tip of his tongue in that moment before the next blow comes and the world shatters back into action around him – lost in the fray.
chuchi sushi
the passage of time stills ones again. in the silence, nothing. no breath, no heartbeat, not a single syllable spoken. he reaches towards her, fingers brushing against her cheek, but he stills. pulls back. and shakes his head before leaving, door swinging closed quietly.
canopus
still. the body was cold, mottled and…still. the eyes glassed over, mouth opened in an eternal expression of shock. no one had noticed it when the body went still, just as no one had noticed it while it was still in motion.
John put a finger to his lips, instantly shushing his wife. “Be absolutely still. I thought I heard something downstairs.” Wordlessly he pulled the blankets off and swung his feet over, hitting the carpet of their bedroom. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Talia’s brown orbs held fear as she looked at him. “Be careful!” She hissed. “Don’t get yourself killed.”
AJ Kenobi
Stay very still.
The clockface is about to explode in a million pieces. White marble everywhere. People trespassed by giant metal hands which will now set the time inside your stomach. But if you stay still and enjoy the moment before you get stabbed in the most bizarre turn of events possible, it will last forever; you will live forever. Enjoy.
the waters were quiet. they always were at this time of night. the stars shone high in the sky, the moon hanging low. a pale white light was cast from the heavens, reflecting faintly off the waters as they remained ever so still, ever so quiet. tonight, the world slept in peace.
Stillness crept as a sentient being through the dull night air. There was nothing but the two of them, and nothing else was needed. As they made passing eye contact and quickly looked away, they felt an aura of profound relaxation that neither of them had thought possible.
serenity. sitting on the beach, no breeze. the lake is calm. it is midnight. there is a fire going, and beers bottles being clanked, and music, and laughing. but everything surrounding us is still.
She was still. He wasn’t. And they could not reach across the chasm to connect. She tried to be like him, a spinning maelstrom of raw energy but it was not in her nature. So she withdrew and beckoned to him. He was like electric energy in the humid night air and as he rose and moved closer, she could smell the sweat and stale cigar smoke emanating from his three-days-unwashed t-shirt.
And but so they walked on through the opening into the reservoir path that looped around the cabin and came back around the still waters by the ‘beach.’ It was waiting for them beneath the dirt mound hill at the edge of the shore.
We sat motionless. Not breathing or moving. We sat staring out into nothing. Time was frozen. Nothing so much as swayed in the non-existent breeze. Our eyes fixed on the sun, our corneas began to bleed. No movement.
Purple Tree
it was bad
Sophia
Still what is it Really? Is it a measure of TIme: “I am still Standing here?” or is it being in one place not moving?
Sophia
She asked herself if this was the Place she had Always dreamt of. Where nobody says a thing. Nothing. Not a thing.
I lay here still. The blankets are heavy, but don’t give enough protection from the dangers that loom just outside my bedroom. I’m too old to believe in monsters–this is something else. A crippling fear of standing up and facing the world.
time didn’t stand still, but her porcelain frame never moved.
M. Babington
Everything was –
wait, no, that wasn’t right. Everything was stirred up. Hair whipping in the faces of the tired-eyed, cold grey succubi around you, and the train itself was rocking slightly, as if bowed to motion. Nothing didn’t move. Flowers in the hand of a boy who had obviously angered his partner the week before shook and rustled, trembling as if captured in the hand of a mighty gale.
Everything – was –
or maybe it wasn’t, because nothing was, and everything was
still was the water when i kept the bucket down . but then i could still see the ripples when i kept it down and prayed that the the water doesn’t spill out of the bucket
Shraddha Singh
A pale flash of a child perched on a grandfather’s knee, smiling and fingers sticky with sugar. A bright brown photo of a tree taken from the ground and looking skyward, the same child, now older and taller, swinging from a branch, frozen mid-laugh. A slightly blurry photo of a girl and a guy with their arms around each other, a corsage on her wrist, taken hastily as they leave for the dance. A fluffy white photo, posed perfectly, her hand on his chest, her dress billowing around her. The stills of her life.
The night was still, like water on a windless lake. I could see the truck come down the gravel road, framed by the rising moon. I knew it was him. The cat had come around again, and that always was the sign of my uncle’s return.
The air was still. Everything around me was still as I made my way up the steps to the king. There he would give me my final judgment, decide if I would be put to death or allowed to roam the streets free. As I approached the thrown my heart stilled and the look in his eyes told me this would be my final day.
Chellie
She sits still as the world forms around her. A virtual world of her imagination filled with beauty. The magnificent colors fold into the landscape. She sits ever so still and watches, enchanted. The sky is purple and blue. The grass is green and yellow. The sun is orange and gold. The colors make up her world, only hers. It’s peaceful and quiet. Everything is still.
You realize, suddenly, that you have not done enough. But that’s okay, you decide. That’s fine. Because there are other people here, other people with you, and they will help. They will always help. When you thought they’d left they remained, when you thought they’d betrayed you they only showed faith, and this is why you smile as you hold your friend’s hand and thank them, thank them, thank them, and go still.
I don’t see how you can sit so still and take the crap everyone tells you night after night. I don’t understand how you can be so understanding of the millions of confessions you hear every single day. I don’t get it, I don’t get how you can be the envy of so many when you don’t even breathe, when you shouldn’t even exist.
And yet, I envy you more than anyone else ever will.
Whoops! Thought Entry, The Second would replace the first- just edited a couple words- welcome to a visual of the editing process!
Moth
In this state of raw openness, there is no stillness. In the quiet, the red threads of the dream catcher hum and pulsate. Believe in the shape, believe in the magic of a painting forged from pain, 200 years ago. It is silent, though charged with fractal mirroring images of Self. Shake me until every dead bird lump caught in my organs is freed- I don’t want a feather left. Move me, I cannot stand (the) still, still.
Moth
In this state of raw openness, there is no stillness. In the quiet, the red threads of the dream catcher hum and pulsate. Believe in the shape, believe in the magic of a painting forged from pain, 200 years ago. It is silent, still though- charged with fractal mirroring images of Self. Shake me until every dead bird lump caught in my organs is freed- I don’t want a feather left. Move me, I cannot stand (the) still, still.
Sit solid like a frameless beach and sift the still glass grain, the lawn of some long passed nobody.
The room froze the air was still. Nothing could make it any more uncomfortable. I was lost and hated every second of it. If I could move it would have worse.
The water was still and reflected Anna perfectly. Her bloodshot eyes, her stained shirt. She tried to wipe the blood from her cheek, but it was too dry.
water fall brain weather nice day in the middle of the winter , still thinking too much
A silence here, there’s no movement only the perfect position the air drifts so near. This moment only a peace, or is it a piece of something unencumbered and pure that sets my mind at ease.
i was still in his arms
and i felt safe
so safe
darling catch my tears and wipe them away please
for my heart is not still with you
always quivering, always melting, always singing
with you, but not with me
stillness feels fathomless, forever and ever to the ocean and back, flying on wings with gossamer blades of fabric glued to the insoles of my heart. I will be still be well, no matter what
Still… Martha knew many things about te word still…
You have to be still while someone brushes your hair
Or it hurts, still for a photo to be taken… Still while you listen to a boring lecture from your aunt
It’s a tranquility that he finds in these moments, the times when blood freezes on his lips and words lie on the tip of his tongue in that moment before the next blow comes and the world shatters back into action around him – lost in the fray.
the passage of time stills ones again. in the silence, nothing. no breath, no heartbeat, not a single syllable spoken. he reaches towards her, fingers brushing against her cheek, but he stills. pulls back. and shakes his head before leaving, door swinging closed quietly.
still. the body was cold, mottled and…still. the eyes glassed over, mouth opened in an eternal expression of shock. no one had noticed it when the body went still, just as no one had noticed it while it was still in motion.
John put a finger to his lips, instantly shushing his wife. “Be absolutely still. I thought I heard something downstairs.” Wordlessly he pulled the blankets off and swung his feet over, hitting the carpet of their bedroom. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Talia’s brown orbs held fear as she looked at him. “Be careful!” She hissed. “Don’t get yourself killed.”
Stay very still.
The clockface is about to explode in a million pieces. White marble everywhere. People trespassed by giant metal hands which will now set the time inside your stomach. But if you stay still and enjoy the moment before you get stabbed in the most bizarre turn of events possible, it will last forever; you will live forever. Enjoy.
the waters were quiet. they always were at this time of night. the stars shone high in the sky, the moon hanging low. a pale white light was cast from the heavens, reflecting faintly off the waters as they remained ever so still, ever so quiet. tonight, the world slept in peace.
Stillness crept as a sentient being through the dull night air. There was nothing but the two of them, and nothing else was needed. As they made passing eye contact and quickly looked away, they felt an aura of profound relaxation that neither of them had thought possible.
serenity. sitting on the beach, no breeze. the lake is calm. it is midnight. there is a fire going, and beers bottles being clanked, and music, and laughing. but everything surrounding us is still.
The violin sat still in the corner. One night, she sang. One night, tactless and tipping over her own stilettos, she would hear me.
She was still. He wasn’t. And they could not reach across the chasm to connect. She tried to be like him, a spinning maelstrom of raw energy but it was not in her nature. So she withdrew and beckoned to him. He was like electric energy in the humid night air and as he rose and moved closer, she could smell the sweat and stale cigar smoke emanating from his three-days-unwashed t-shirt.
in the still
chilled
spring
i hoped for
everything
but still
the thrill
of unmet regret
makes me glad
i’ve got
nothing
And but so they walked on through the opening into the reservoir path that looped around the cabin and came back around the still waters by the ‘beach.’ It was waiting for them beneath the dirt mound hill at the edge of the shore.
We sat motionless. Not breathing or moving. We sat staring out into nothing. Time was frozen. Nothing so much as swayed in the non-existent breeze. Our eyes fixed on the sun, our corneas began to bleed. No movement.
it was bad
Still what is it Really? Is it a measure of TIme: “I am still Standing here?” or is it being in one place not moving?
She asked herself if this was the Place she had Always dreamt of. Where nobody says a thing. Nothing. Not a thing.
still how can I be still? l I am filled with some many feelings and thoughts I ought not stay still
I lay here still. The blankets are heavy, but don’t give enough protection from the dangers that loom just outside my bedroom. I’m too old to believe in monsters–this is something else. A crippling fear of standing up and facing the world.
time didn’t stand still, but her porcelain frame never moved.
Everything was –
wait, no, that wasn’t right. Everything was stirred up. Hair whipping in the faces of the tired-eyed, cold grey succubi around you, and the train itself was rocking slightly, as if bowed to motion. Nothing didn’t move. Flowers in the hand of a boy who had obviously angered his partner the week before shook and rustled, trembling as if captured in the hand of a mighty gale.
Everything – was –
or maybe it wasn’t, because nothing was, and everything was
still was the water when i kept the bucket down . but then i could still see the ripples when i kept it down and prayed that the the water doesn’t spill out of the bucket
A pale flash of a child perched on a grandfather’s knee, smiling and fingers sticky with sugar. A bright brown photo of a tree taken from the ground and looking skyward, the same child, now older and taller, swinging from a branch, frozen mid-laugh. A slightly blurry photo of a girl and a guy with their arms around each other, a corsage on her wrist, taken hastily as they leave for the dance. A fluffy white photo, posed perfectly, her hand on his chest, her dress billowing around her. The stills of her life.
The night was still, like water on a windless lake. I could see the truck come down the gravel road, framed by the rising moon. I knew it was him. The cat had come around again, and that always was the sign of my uncle’s return.
The air was still. Everything around me was still as I made my way up the steps to the king. There he would give me my final judgment, decide if I would be put to death or allowed to roam the streets free. As I approached the thrown my heart stilled and the look in his eyes told me this would be my final day.
She sits still as the world forms around her. A virtual world of her imagination filled with beauty. The magnificent colors fold into the landscape. She sits ever so still and watches, enchanted. The sky is purple and blue. The grass is green and yellow. The sun is orange and gold. The colors make up her world, only hers. It’s peaceful and quiet. Everything is still.
There were no signs of struggle. Condensation could be seen on a glass of lemonade on the kitchen table. The screen door lay wide open.
Be still.
Feel it.
Let it happen.
It hurts.
You didn’t ask for it.
And that makes it hurt worse.
You’ll survive it.
Just be still.
You realize, suddenly, that you have not done enough. But that’s okay, you decide. That’s fine. Because there are other people here, other people with you, and they will help. They will always help. When you thought they’d left they remained, when you thought they’d betrayed you they only showed faith, and this is why you smile as you hold your friend’s hand and thank them, thank them, thank them, and go still.
The Loneliest Star:
I don’t see how you can sit so still and take the crap everyone tells you night after night. I don’t understand how you can be so understanding of the millions of confessions you hear every single day. I don’t get it, I don’t get how you can be the envy of so many when you don’t even breathe, when you shouldn’t even exist.
And yet, I envy you more than anyone else ever will.
Whoops! Thought Entry, The Second would replace the first- just edited a couple words- welcome to a visual of the editing process!
In this state of raw openness, there is no stillness. In the quiet, the red threads of the dream catcher hum and pulsate. Believe in the shape, believe in the magic of a painting forged from pain, 200 years ago. It is silent, though charged with fractal mirroring images of Self. Shake me until every dead bird lump caught in my organs is freed- I don’t want a feather left. Move me, I cannot stand (the) still, still.
In this state of raw openness, there is no stillness. In the quiet, the red threads of the dream catcher hum and pulsate. Believe in the shape, believe in the magic of a painting forged from pain, 200 years ago. It is silent, still though- charged with fractal mirroring images of Self. Shake me until every dead bird lump caught in my organs is freed- I don’t want a feather left. Move me, I cannot stand (the) still, still.