Promise ring which finger. Key rings for men. Engagement rings india.
Promise Ring Which Finger
- “Promise Ring” is the debut single by R&B singer Tiffany Evans from her self-titled debut album. It features Ciara. The song was produced by Mr. Collipark and The Clutch. It was officially released to iTunes on May 29, 2007.
- The Promise Ring was an American emo band from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. In their early years, their music was usually classified as emo, but their later albums could be described more accurately as indie pop.
- The American Fox sitcom That ’70s Show ran 200 episodes and four specials across eight seasons, from August 23, 1998, to May 18, 2006, spanning the years 1976 through the end of 1979. Reruns subsequently aired on Vegas TV, ABC Family, The N (now Teennick), and FX.
promise ring
- Each of the four slender jointed parts attached to either hand (or five, if the thumb is included)
- A part of a glove intended to cover a finger
- A measure of liquor in a glass, based on the breadth of a finger
- feel or handle with the fingers; “finger the binding of the book”
- feel: examine by touch; “Feel this soft cloth!”; “The customer fingered the sweater”
- any of the terminal members of the hand (sometimes excepting the thumb); “her fingers were long and thin”
finger
SLEEP OF THE JUST?
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Sleepy slumber has me deep within it’s velvet grip, powerless to fight, slave to it’s charms and I have you on my mind.
Places, faces, shallow features and empty promises spoken on deceitful lips with tongues that wag and wail like a cacophony of agonising pitch that has me walking the streets with hands cupped and clamped to my bleeding ears. I’m drowning in the incessant imagery that dances through my minds eye, eyelids flicking wildly , dancing a seductive tango as I moan and groan into the darkness of my room.
The streets are empty, devoid of life like the aftermath of some nuclear holocaust as all but the scavenging packs of animals which hunt in numbers and forage from the plentiful supply of fallen limbs and dying flesh, and the few survivors who wander confused and bloodied, fill my eyes. I’m viewing the scene like the boy in the bubble, accessing areas, traversing locations that flit into view in strangely bizarre order and sequence, I’m aloof and detached, a part of the big picture, but unseen by those that I view. I’m grateful to be alive, confused and bewildered, relieved to still breathe the fragile air in these lungs of mine and frightened by the chain of events that appear to have spiralled out of control, I’m paralysed with fear at the sights now rushing me at full speed like a locomotive train towards the buffers of doom.
I walk through a corridor of stone brick buildings, the walls moving ever inwards on me until I am barely able to squeeze through the channel that is left, heading for the bright lights up ahead that pierce my eyes causing me to shield them and turn my head away momentarily. I catch a glimpse of you in that pretty white dress up ahead as you turn and walk within the confines of a supermarket shop and beckon me inwards. Your transparent dress billows in the breeze, the sunlight flickering through your limbs and tantalising my eyes as I see the nakedness beneath the soft white cotton. I’m walking with a mixture of trepidation and expectations, fuelled by testosterone desires and thoughts of the carnal kind as I emerge from the safety of the narrowing buildings and walk into that shop where you sit, gorging on the flesh of another human, alive and twitching as you rip into his flesh.
" Come on in, the feast is plentiful and aromatic ", you smile with bloodstained mouth and teeth as you wave the dying man’s left arm in my direction with playful inquisitiveness.
Rich red ruby blood oozes down your chest as you gnaw at the limb like a rabid dog, and I feel the disgust within the pit of my stomach, turning away with a desire to throw up there and then as I place a hand to my mouth and fall to the ground. All around are the victims of the event, strewn like a child’s rag dolls across the floor and preyed upon by all manner of emerging wildlife that prowl with a hunger and malicious intent that frightens me to the core of my being. Inside me I know the bitter truth of the situation, it’s payback time and mankind’s doom has finally come,though somewhat sooner than I had hoped or expected.
Like an avenging angel, you rise into the air and smile my way, viewing the animal kingdom all about you that dines and feasts on the still beating hearts of those victims who try with all,their might to escape, despite the lack of limbs or injuries so grave as to render them incapacitated. And me? I’m somehow euphoric, a little horrified, but there is an overwhelming sense of relief within my sinews. Like the end of a motion picture when the villain is finally cornered and meets his end in the most unspeakably vile and odious manner, my soul cried out and laughs, my heart rejoices, though my eyes are somewhat slightly dazed and revulsed. It’s Armageddon on the grandest scale, payback time for man the dumbest of the apes as the streets run like rivers of blood and the animal kingdom yields to Mother nature;s natural order.
All the while that vast bright light shines down upon the scene and my eyes are dazzled, curious and pondering, a brain filled with a myriad of questions as I levitate over the scene, oblivious and disconnected, detached and yet a part of the situation. Am I truly dreaming? Will I awaken to the sound of my manic alarm clock wringing it’s nuts off and offending my resting eardrums, or is this the here and now, reality gone mad?
All at once I am standing in the alleyway once more. he bright light despatches rings of colour as it blinds and pushes deeper into the recesses of that darkened brickwork. The buildings are moving ever inwards until I have to push out both arms against he cold brickwork to try and halt their progress. A sea of blood seeps on the pavements, spilling ever closer to my position as the walls clamp onto my shoulders and through the brilliance of that light you come, through he air, your stained white dress now soiled and dishevelled as you place a finger to your lips and try to quieten my screams.
" It’s alright Paul ", you say
Written in stone
Once upon a time, a king’s son married the daughter of a neighboring king. He met the girl, married her, and he brought her home to his castle, which was not much more than a pile of drafty stone. The princess took one look at it and said “I am now your wife. I have promised to honor and to cherish you. Most of all, I have promised that I will find the way to love you truly. For these promises that I have made, and the ones you made in return, all on behalf of others, I would like to ask you to grant me one wish for myself alone.”
“You have but to name it,” the newly wedded prince replied. Which was the gallant thing to say, if not the cautious one.
“I wish you to build me a room,” his wife said. “One single room where I will be warm in winter, and cool in summer. A room that will ring with my laughter, but where I will not be afraid to rage and cry. A room so well made I can trust that it will shelter me when all others fail. You must do this with your own two hands, for it is not a task that may be entrusted to any other. Will you grant me this wish?”
The prince was understandably startled at this request. As he stood pondering how to answer, he discovered that he did know one thing: He knew how much he wanted to try. For the wish that had been growing in his heart all the while his wife had spoken was that he might prove worthy of whatever she might ask. And so he said “Madam, I am not certain I know how to grant this wish, but I am certain that I will try.”
And so, together, they went into the castle, and on their way in, the prince reached down and picked up a single stone.
For many years the prince worked on the room his wife had wished for. Years that saw him become king. Years that saw his hair turn gray even as his kingdom prospered.
There were many days when the king could do no work on the room at all. On those days, he would wrap his fingers tightly around the stone he had picked up on the day his wife had made her wish, as if, simply by touching this small piece of rock, he could make the room she had wished for grow. And, when, at long last, the day came when the king prepared to leave this life, on that day he turned to his wife with tears in his eyes.
“I have loved you above all else,” he said. “But still I have failed you, for the only thing you ever asked of me, a single room, remains undone.”
“Great, foolish heart,” the queen replied. “How can one so wise still be so blind? You have worked to build me what I asked for all the days of our lives. Even when the task seemed impossible, even when it would have been easier to give it up, you did not, but kept on going. You have kept me warm in winter, and cool in summer. You have laughed with me, and you have cried.”
“The greatest joy of all is the way you held my wish in the center of your heart through all the days of our lives. That is where the room that you have built for me lies. Just as the room I built for you lies within mine. And in this way have all our wishes been granted. Together, we have made ourselves a home.”
We then said our vows with our hands on a stone I have had since I was in 5th grade (see above!) On one side, it looks like salamander skin, on the other, it almost looks like leaves cling to it.
