iWRITE ~ iPod contest ~ Poetry & Prose ~ EVERYONE WELCOME!!

[Mokomonko]

hey it's you! well this sounds fun, I think I'll go for it. biggrin

[The Love Mutt]

Mokomonko

hey it's you! well this sounds fun, I think I'll go for it. biggrin

WOOHOO

[iRaiindrops]

Mokomonko

hey it's you! well this sounds fun, I think I'll go for it. biggrin

yay!
(:

~

[The Love Mutt]

iRaiindrops

Mokomonko

hey it's you! well this sounds fun, I think I'll go for it. biggrin

yay!
(:

~

Agreeed!

[2pound]

i think i'll wait for another one. no offense, but this one just didn't inspire me. :/

[Mokomonko]

yeah this prompt is hard for me too.... i've been trying to think of something but yeah.... emo

[The Love Mutt]

Alright. Prompt changed again.

SUICIDE BLONDE by the Weepies.

[The Love Mutt]

AKA Enter!!!!

[Echo Ligeia]

Hello! Hopefully, you're still doing the first prompt. Here's my entry:

Blair

In my life I have never seen an eye –
Beneath the purple girl’s electric stick,
And underneath the raven’s plastic dye
There’s two? And now, that girl is sick. We’re sick.
My dreams are made and measured. I am gone.
My moon hides pain and jealousy and lies.
I swing my body; words in fog; I yawn.
Nothing runs within me – I need the eyes.
Can I tell you the truth? Are you prepared
for thirst and piercing voices in the shock
of blond-haired little girls. That’s me. I’m scared.
So don’t reach through the mirror; break my lock.
And if I write a verse in sonnet form,
Will you then think I’m stylish? Funny? Warm?


Please critique, if you want. I hope you keep doing a prompt every week. Also, I hope more people enter! ^^

[The Love Mutt]

Echo Ligeia

Hello! Hopefully, you're still doing the first prompt. Here's my entry:

Blair

In my life I have never seen an eye –
Beneath the purple girl’s electric stick,
And underneath the raven’s plastic dye
There’s two? And now, that girl is sick. We’re sick.
My dreams are made and measured. I am gone.
My moon hides pain and jealousy and lies.
I swing my body; words in fog; I yawn.
Nothing runs within me – I need the eyes.
Can I tell you the truth? Are you prepared
for thirst and piercing voices in the shock
of blond-haired little girls. That’s me. I’m scared.
So don’t reach through the mirror; break my lock.
And if I write a verse in sonnet form,
Will you then think I’m stylish? Funny? Warm?


Please critique, if you want. I hope you keep doing a prompt every week. Also, I hope more people enter! ^^

Which prompt was this for, specifically??

[Echo Ligeia]

Oh! Sorry: Suicide Blonde, by The Weepies.

[The Love Mutt]

Echo Ligeia

Oh! Sorry: Suicide Blonde, by The Weepies.

Ok, wonderful.

[The Love Mutt]

um... hello? where the hecks IS everyone?

[goldfish_lovin]

Yo, I shall join this contest in it's epicness

[goldfish_lovin]

You are popular. Sexy, smooth, and blonde, you are a freaking goddess. Now what’s the problem?

It all began two years back. You weren’t cool or hip, but a snotty little kid with greasy black hair and no friends. Nobody really knew you existed, because in this kind of world where every person is absorbed in their own little bubbles, what is one small and unattractive kid? A nothing. Well this here is a story of change. What happens when you get sick of being left out, of being invisible?

You dye your hair blonde.

People took notice immediately, and you liked it. So you put on some eyeliner, a bit of blush. You got clothing that fit you tightly and stretched where is shouldn’t. You wore complicated shoes and put on perfume. Before anybody knew what the hell had happened you had become gorgeous. People went out of their way to talk to you and guys ogled in the hallway.
You practically shined every morning, ready to strut your stuff and just be popular.

But it was all a lie. Who were these people who liked you now? Where were they two years ago? Fake. That’s when the gnawing began, deep in the pit of your stomach. It only continued to grow, pushing doubt and confusion behind those blonde locks of hair. You began to question yourself. This wasn’t you. You weren’t the slut you made yourself look like, and yet, people liked you for it. No… they liked how you looked, not the actual you.

There were those few that noticed you before, when you were too wrapped up in yourself to notice. Where are they now? You’ve left them behind and stepped into the unknown, but now you lost yourself. This isn’t your body. Your body is gone. You’ve stepped off the flat bridge of your life and fallen into the busy highway of popularity, and it has eaten you up. That’s the problem.