Welcome to The Writer Games, a series of contests inspired
by the Winter Olympics and set to hone your writing skills
and your sense of humor, hopefully.
Just like the real Olympics, there are different events each day,
and winners will receive medals, interviews and prizes.
However, unlike the real Olympic Games, you do not have to discreetly hide your scowl if you don't win gold.
Check out details in Monday's post.
Today's event: Snowboarding, or Mix Your Own Metaphors.
Metaphor:
A metaphor compares two unlike things without using "like" or "as".
"That kid is a bulldozer."
[Speaking of bulldozers, I'm going to share
a little known fact with you. My dainty sobriquet
in middle school, given by my adoring peers
was "milk truck". Yep. Formative years.]
Your challenge:
Love and Olympics being in the air these days,
write a metaphor, or three
on the subject of Love, Winter or Sports.
You have until midnight on Friday, February 19 to enter any of The Writer Games events.
Good luck, and may the best words win!
My try at metaphors:
Her love was a sadly wrinkled dishtowel frozen on the clothesline.
But it didn't help that his love was all stray dog eagerly sniffing round the back alley for any vixen in heat.
If love is a piece of that cake, get me out of the bakery.
9 comments:
Love is Liberace on acid at the Olympic's Opening Ceremony. Just a bit over the top.
Winter is a grieving crazed woman who howls and mourns in cold despair.
The Games are a very established sorority house of arcane traditions and petulant temper tantrums.
Olympians are the Haagen Daz bars of the popsicle aisle
Writing is a bitumen stretch of highway where travelers are guaranteed to fall off their bikes, assured of strawberry knees. The slow progress uphill, pumping right, pumping left, feels like real progress until the "others" zoom past with their high-powered writer's acumen. Well, at least there's that shimmering, cool lake at the end of this blazing hot road. No,...wait..that's a mirage.
She was so bad at metaphors, that she threw in the towel and bowed down to the greater athletes in her presence.
ok, rewrite...on my post:
In the popsicle aisle of life Olympians are the Haagen Dazs bars
Love is a cure with more side effects than the disease, but still worth it.
Love is a cloud that blocks the sun, just before you burn.
Love is fabric without a pattern.
Love is the restraint to out your partner when they fart in the supermarket aisle in front of the yogurt, even when someone might walk in to the cloud and think it was you.
A northwest winter is the soggy bread in a sandwich from the wet vegetables that have been pressed against it all morning.
Ah, Sports. The assurance after a hard fought battle full of sweat, exertion and heart, that you're better than that loser over there.
restraint to NOT out your partner (I meant)
Ben, your metaphors are choice words of philosophy, meaty nuggets that Confucious forgot to pass on to the world. I, for one, will now stay away from the yogurt aisle, at least when romantic couples are standing nearby waving the air.
Donna, that is so right. Those incredible, unbelievably fattening bars of sin. Are we common folk the fudgsicles?
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