The feeling I get when I think about my 19 yo daughter in another city because her mother and I divorced when she was in high school and ever since she has gained weight. Eating and never exercising. I am wrought with guilt.
Kevin
She was wrought with the care of so many men. She was a beauty, a concoction of steel and wood and timber. She was a thing that men were supposed to stare at, marvel at and be in wonder of. She was something that would never be paralleled.
She now lies at the bottom of the ocean.
She is the Titanic.
Nikhil Thomas
It wrought havoc upon your soul, and destroyed whatever you had left of your courage. Nothing I said could change how you felt.
I was afraid to even touch you, you looked so delicate. You were a lily, petals slowly blackening, and then dropping off when one died.
The wrought iron gate looked fragile and withered. As if she reached out a hand and it would crumble under the pressure. Only she would be so lucky. But luck has exactly been on her side.
Wrought iron. I’ve always loved it. The rustic feel that it brings into a room just adds so much character. I want a wrought iron bedside table with a pretty vase with white flowers or orchids. I wouldn’t be particularly opposed to a wrought iron chair to go with it.
Mitali Patel
The wrought iron gate stood tall and intimidating. the house standing well behind it, cobblestone connecting the two. The gate looked fragile, age taken it’s toll. She felt she could reach out and if she touched it, the gate would dissovle under the pressure of her hand
Alexandra
i know i wasnt being fair towards you. you had to pull every word from me, beg me on your knees for an entire sentence and use blackmail for a paragraph. i didnt mean to exclude you from these thoughts but you wouldnt relent and so i became twisted like iron and bleak like a wet sheet.
Wrought. What a word. The first telegraph message written was, “look what God hath wrought.” It is nothing like rotten. However, wroughten may be an acceptable past tense form.
Dylmark
wrought iron
man
woman
shapely she
roughneck he
all are artists
forming the canvas
of we
i have wrought pain and misery among those i have come into contact with. they have wrought vengeance upon me. this cycle has gone to and fro like an out of hand ping pong tournament. when it was taken up in china with the new paddle style. they can really hit it.
the vengeance upon me has been swift. bad coffee when i havent tipped. tripping on banana peels after i have heedlessly
dan vigliano
you could build the biggest fire in the world
you could make yourself king with that fire
yet it means nothing because other fires
can still melt the flesh from your bones
your strength means nothing
unless it forges love.
While he lay drunk near the mouth of the cave, she wandered in the depths. Near the cave mouth things seemed simpler, with homey touches. But down here, past the tiger skin and the motorcycle helmet, she saw the objects he didn’t talk about. The strange items, wrought of metals that glinted in the candlelight, shiny surfaces that sparkled blue and green, gold and silver. She picked one up. The air in the cave changed, and a breeze puffed by her face. To far from the surface to be wind, she thought, turning toward where the breeze had come from.
I have been beaten. I sleep later than the moon and wake earlier than the birds. The world seems to be sadden by me.
The feeling I get when I think about my 19 yo daughter in another city because her mother and I divorced when she was in high school and ever since she has gained weight. Eating and never exercising. I am wrought with guilt.
She was wrought with the care of so many men. She was a beauty, a concoction of steel and wood and timber. She was a thing that men were supposed to stare at, marvel at and be in wonder of. She was something that would never be paralleled.
She now lies at the bottom of the ocean.
She is the Titanic.
It wrought havoc upon your soul, and destroyed whatever you had left of your courage. Nothing I said could change how you felt.
I was afraid to even touch you, you looked so delicate. You were a lily, petals slowly blackening, and then dropping off when one died.
The wrought iron gate looked fragile and withered. As if she reached out a hand and it would crumble under the pressure. Only she would be so lucky. But luck has exactly been on her side.
Wrought iron. I’ve always loved it. The rustic feel that it brings into a room just adds so much character. I want a wrought iron bedside table with a pretty vase with white flowers or orchids. I wouldn’t be particularly opposed to a wrought iron chair to go with it.
The wrought iron gate stood tall and intimidating. the house standing well behind it, cobblestone connecting the two. The gate looked fragile, age taken it’s toll. She felt she could reach out and if she touched it, the gate would dissovle under the pressure of her hand
i know i wasnt being fair towards you. you had to pull every word from me, beg me on your knees for an entire sentence and use blackmail for a paragraph. i didnt mean to exclude you from these thoughts but you wouldnt relent and so i became twisted like iron and bleak like a wet sheet.
Wrought. What a word. The first telegraph message written was, “look what God hath wrought.” It is nothing like rotten. However, wroughten may be an acceptable past tense form.
wrought iron
man
woman
shapely she
roughneck he
all are artists
forming the canvas
of we
i have wrought pain and misery among those i have come into contact with. they have wrought vengeance upon me. this cycle has gone to and fro like an out of hand ping pong tournament. when it was taken up in china with the new paddle style. they can really hit it.
the vengeance upon me has been swift. bad coffee when i havent tipped. tripping on banana peels after i have heedlessly
you could build the biggest fire in the world
you could make yourself king with that fire
yet it means nothing because other fires
can still melt the flesh from your bones
your strength means nothing
unless it forges love.
While he lay drunk near the mouth of the cave, she wandered in the depths. Near the cave mouth things seemed simpler, with homey touches. But down here, past the tiger skin and the motorcycle helmet, she saw the objects he didn’t talk about. The strange items, wrought of metals that glinted in the candlelight, shiny surfaces that sparkled blue and green, gold and silver. She picked one up. The air in the cave changed, and a breeze puffed by her face. To far from the surface to be wind, she thought, turning toward where the breeze had come from.