I am a pencil,
I can glide over paper and create a myriad of things
music, writing, poetry, truth, fiction,
It's all there between me and this empty white sheet
I work better when my head is sharp,
press me too hard and I break
Personally I do nothing,
I just let The Artist work through me.

Grandfather

This man has a unique smell that could punish any nose. The skin of the grandfather is scaly like a snake. The grandfather has hair coming out of his ears that feels like a sheep’s back.

I am like a peace sign

I am like a pease sign so quiet and at peace,
wanting everyone to love and live in harmony,
no need for anyone to have greed, no need for war or broken knees,
so I will not become a soldier to make others bleed, like killing a sons' father before his son's capable to see,
that's cruel, cold hearted and definitely not me,
even though we are different we remain as people,
one with nature,
we have to nurture one another but that's something they never teach you,
only hatred.
Politics and nations fighting throwing each other crap,
seeing who's more popular between Republicans or Democrats,
side-tracting you to get the new cars or retro hats,
I see through them, organs and bones, and they all full of crap,
what society really needs to do is just help one another,
show appreciation to everyone, even if they aren't your sister or brother

I am like a blank piece of paper

I am like a blank piece of paper
ready to be filled,
with words of others
my life story can be set

I could be thrown away and discarded
but my words will always remain,
I can also be shared or
I can be your secret.

I am like a blank piece of paper
ready to be filled,
with truth and lies
but only the writer decides.

I can be illegal in some places
I can sometimes be smart and sometimes be silly.
I can get wrinkled or I can stay young.
I can raise spirit or I can give warnings

I can give you butterflies
or I can give you the giggles,
I am like a blank piece of paper.

Teapot

I am a teapot. I'm not quite sure of my purpose in life, other than to decorate this Earth as just another piece of display. I am often seen as a simple item with practically no function but to look pretty. At times I am filled up with a warm and gentle love, but in the end it's meant to be poured into the cups of others. I never keep any for myself; I merely exist to give.

Guitar

   I am like a guitar, chord after chord and note after not, we both stay the same. Playing a wonderful medley of feelings, emotions known just by the many measures played and the octave I most love. The rhythm staying the same then increasing rapidly, as my days fly by creating the wonderful speed of a Municipual Waste song, then slowing to fit something calm and slow. I am just an everchanging song played on a guitar.

Panther

I am like a panther I prowl, I roar. Through the night patiently I wait for my prefect moment to strike. Slowly, I wait I anticipate, wanting to be fed. Hungry starving for more. I see what I want I gaze upon it my eyes flare with intense and passionate desire, you look into my eyes you know that I'm on the hunt and that my methods are ruthless. Stil,l waiting for the that moment, before I pounce. Holding back raw instinct with my all, I spring with no hesitation... I never stay hungry.

Extended metaphor

I am a ticking clock that is young but still age though the years. Easily broken and easily fix but later on breaks down do to age and it will never be the same. All different types of clocks. Very old ones and theirs new one’s that people seem to pick out the must but that’s only the young one. The swinging of the pendulum, the cherry wood, and the sound it make’s when it hits noon. Reminds me of the other people that had die and the thought of the other people that had die and what they might have done in their life.

Victoria M.

My Life as a Broken iPod

I am an aging iPod, ready to break at any minute.

When you first got me for your birthday, we were inseparable, admit it. We spent hours alone in your room listening to your favorite music and blocking out the world.

We had always been best friends. I talked you through your little tantrums by playing your favorite songs and I got the attention that I was built to receive.

Lately however, and ever more frequently, you’ve been leaving me behind; whether it be on the charger for days on end, or sitting on the counter waiting patiently for someone to listen to me.

My voice was the songs you now take for granted and my soul was your playlist. I know everything about you but what can you tell about me? If your soul fell apart, which it had on numerous occasions, I could have you put back together in the time it takes to drive to and from the mall. Can you say the same about me? If I snapped right now and fell into pieces in your lap, could you even begin to put me back together? I guess we’ll find out.

Oh now you want to listen to me as you hop into the passenger seat of your mom’s car? Now you want to remember all the good times we had and bond more than you were ever able to with a real person? Too bad.

Halfway there, I freeze; no big deal, right? Wrong. You push the play button with no response. You push it again, transferring your growing unease and frustration into the force you put on me. Your grip tightens, that hurts. You don’t care.

Apologize, that’s all you have to do. Just say that you’re sorry for leaving me in the cold, all alone and I’ll work again, I promise. We can make this right.

You turn me over and flick my back…OK, it’s on.

My screen goes white and so does your face. I have no problem breaking myself to spite you. You squeeze harder, irritating both of us to the point that while I may work fine later in the day, this experience will always stay with us.

You’re here. As your mom pulls into the parking lot, you curse me silently in your head. I watch your eyes and hear every word. In a fit of frustration and rage you snap off your headphones and toss me into the cup holder. Without thinking twice, you walk into the grocery store.

A half hour later, you get back into the car. My battery’s dead, I have no more fight left. The fact that I am hurt is plain to see and you realize this with remorse.

You take me out of the cup holder and place me gingerly in your lap. Gently, you wet a small section of your shirt with the water bottle you just bought and run the damp, soft cloth across my screen. As you wash me, you remember how it used to be, how I got you through some of the hardest times in your life.

After the decay of neglect has been washed away, you carefully place me into your jeans pocket. I’m right where I should be.

When you get home, you take me into your room and plug me into your stereo. My screen lights up and the charging symbol appears in the top corner. You push play and we relive what we had lost for so long. Friends forever.

The Game

My life is a softball game, seemingly simple yet utterly complex. On the the surface it's easy, the goals clear. One, two, three, you win. But how it turns out depends on the players. I am the pitcher, the reluctant star of the show. The game is in my hands. My parents are the coaches, supporting and encouraging, wanting me to win. The catcher is my sister, my partner in crime, willing to do anything to help me succeed. Infield and outfield, made up of my friends, helping me out when I fail. It's a well-oiled machine, always moving forward, making progress. Then something happens; A hard grounder, a gapper fly ball. Errors made, by mistake or on purpose Or a new rule comes into play, throwing a wrench in the system. The machine has broken down, the game could be lost. I roll with the punches, keep going, persevere. Because until the final out is called, I'm still in this game.

Bag Of Skittles

I’m like a bag of skittles I go through different moods each day. Instead of seeing the rainbow, you see me. Same goes for when you taste the rainbow, you taste my extravagant writing! I’m red when I’m mad, green when I’m ill, purple when I’m a mystery to everyone around me, I’m yellow when I’m glad, when I’m orange I’m cautious about everyone and thing around my environment. If I wear to add one color I would add a rainbow color to describe me. As for the bag I come from it’s my outer shell of protection against the dangers of the world.

Carol--Extended Metaphor

I am bare feet, slipping hurridly out of my shoe entrapments to escape the claustrophobia. I dig my toes into the soil so I can better feel all I walk on. Sometimes I feel too much—a jagged rock that slices the meat of my heel with a hiss, the sting of a thorn that wedges wickedly underneath a nail. But I walk farther on, directionless, with the knowledge that I’ll soon grow callouses to combat the shifting terrain. With each step I feel the kiss of the world grace me, and though I am uncertain about my destination, the freedom of walking with out restrictions keeps me trotting forward.

Jacket around my heart

My heart is a jacket,

Or rather

The outside is

Buttons locked into place,

Rough tough covering,
Shielding every surface of my Heart
Shielding it from the fire,
protecting it from the world.
This is the outside of my heart.
This jacket is stiff-
It does not allow this heart to move,
To beat for anyone other than it's self.
But the inside,
The inside of this heart
Ss a soft, young, tender heart,
easily wounded, a roll fresh from the oven.
Innocent, protected.
Unbitten by this cruel world
And so the jacket shields it, protecting it from the pain and agony of the world.

Not my best piece, but I think it's pretty good.
Love and Huskies,
2ctheocean

The Wind-Up Toy

I’m like a wind-up toy, When you keep me running, I’m dazzlingly entertaining, For an unsure time amount of time, Before they get bored with me, And allow my old gears, Grind to a halt, When all the sorrow, memories, and self-doubt swirl throughout, My lonely mind, My empty desolate mind, Left to ponder questions, Certain to lead to pain, I sit in a dark corner, A box, Waiting for someone to entertain, Waiting for someone to wind me up again

I Am A Dolphin

I am like a dolphin, playful and free Having fun whenever I can, but working when necessary Gliding through the water in streamline Freely playing with those around me My mind filled with complex thoughts, just like theirs Intelligent and brave that’s how I am Like dolphins, tough on the outside But kind and loving deep down Graceful at times, but rather clumsy Splashing around enjoying freedom Until I get captured again Taken to a cage and held captive Not allowed to play anymore Stuck constantly working, like a caged dolphin.

I am a lake.

I am a lake; shallow at the edge yet deeper as you go. There is no notion of how my thoughts formed. You do not know what lies inside. You’re not aware of what has been tossed into me – what has been added or removed. My surface is shattered when sticks, stones, and other unmentionables are thrown into me. The rain replenishes what has been taken away. I am a lake – darker and colder as you go. I am bottomless – that is how it looks. But the bottom is filled with rocks – I’ve been there. I feel the rocks, brushing against my feet on a daily basis, constantly reminding me of their presence. On the surface I am calm and smooth, but underneath I am a turning sea, floating and moving.

An Unsharpened Pencil

I am an unsharpened pencil, waiting to make my mark. With each New Year comes the turn of the sharpener bringing me closer and closer to my point. Yet as I get closer to my point, the sharpener slows in the face of uncertainty. I want to leave my mark on the world for someone to find, but where? I have nicks and am missing paint in a few places, no longer the brand new pencil I once was. After facing life in the real world, I have found that it has been unyielding. Yet I carry these imperfections proudly knowing that they mark my past and will influence my future. Suddenly the future is no longer so uncertain and the sharpener begins to pick up speed revealing more of my true self until finally, the real me is revealed. I am a sharpened pencil, ready to make my mark.

Reeling In

I am your trusty cassette tape, loaded with stories, purpose. I could be your favorite album or your disdained compilation; it’s the perspective that carries me home. I’m a victim of endless copies, fakes and imitations. I am the original. I am a work of art. I am played. I am stopped. I am paused, mid-sentence, mid-verse.I’ve been discarded, my reels twisted, frayed, damaged. The tape you place on me for a makeshift label is yellowing at the corners. It’s beleaguered, antiqued, and hardly legible. Words have been crossed out. Fresh phrases penciled in almost too methodically. It’s the final product that matters, and it’s the complete picture you treasure. I am placed on deck; I am always waiting for my spokes to spin, moving for the sake of motion, to get somewhere. You travel along my roads every day, hearing the words almost echo through your skull with deafening vibrato, memorable, irrevocable. The reels drag from overuse. The playback is messy, incoherent, dodgy. But it’s the flaws you’ve grown to expect, close to home like warmth and security, familiar sounds that only remind you of me. The click resounds through the room; the first side has reached its conclusion. I am flipped over, I am reversed. With the one-eighty comes one-eighty degrees of a new perspective. There’s a whole other side to me. All you have to do is listen.

I'm like the Earth's moon; there's only one of me.

I wane with the seasons, every few months I'll be born again, with the same face but remembering everything that happened before.

As people move around me, I stay still, near ageless, floating distantly, watching and waiting, but never making a move.

People have seen me, asked about me, looked at me and talked to me, and they have treaded my surface to see what I am like.

I continue to watch patiently, looking at my friends who are around me, but I stay still, even as they move on, even as they forget me.

Sometimes, you won't even see me, but I am still watching.

Sometimes, I'll block the sun from your eyes, if only for a second, and let people see me as I step out of my place, only for a minute, and then I return to my hiding place.

You may look at me, question me, tell me anything, and I'll never tell another soul.

Who knows, maybe someday I'll just drop out of nowhere, and make my mark in history.

Gamer

My life is video game

I don't use cheat codes it all takes skill

I got no time for mistakes

Push forward don't turn back

From Start to Finish

It's a perfect run

Victory is the only destination

Every challenge defeated

Every baddie brought down

I've got the high score

And it don't end now