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Post by RoughWriters on Mar 25, 2010 16:54:02 GMT -6
We all did this excersise in which we decribed the abstract term "Worry" with concrete imagery.
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Post by glen on Mar 25, 2010 16:54:44 GMT -6
It eats away at my innards, starving me from satisfaction.
It toys with me, playing me for the dunce.
It haunts my dreams, shaking me into wakefulness.
It is gray, sick, withering, yet dominant.
Old Man Worry sits in the back of the room,
watching me as I pay bills,
looking over my shoulder as I say goodnight to my children,
whispering chilling thoughts as I kiss my wife.
It hugs me good morning, kisses me goodnight.
And spits on my grave.
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Sarah
Novice
Official Secretary to "El Presidente"
Posts: 51
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Post by Sarah on Mar 25, 2010 16:54:59 GMT -6
Worry is crying
Its tears fall onto the grass
It trickles within the water
Oh my poor Worry,
will never be
the same again.
Will you stop
my tears from
falling, down?
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Post by Edward Cheever on Mar 25, 2010 16:55:34 GMT -6
Worry is a crack in a pavement. Small at first it grows wider as the rain pelts the surface and runs in deep, wearing away the man-made stone. Worry is the rubble made by the pounding elements, which rock and crack as the hooves and feet of passerbys step upon it. Worry is the dust of the ruble that was once the pavement.
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Post by michaelangelo on Apr 1, 2010 16:33:44 GMT -6
My worry is higher than the pressure of my blood
I worry whether if living another day is even possible with these 75 lb shoes holding me back
I worry that my worry will engulf me in this flash flood.
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