Take the stage. You’re in the spotlight. Let the lights shine upon you. Let the microphone amplify your beautiful voice. Let the audience watch as you live your dream.
Listening to sound as one flows through life. Broadcasting rhythm. Taking down the complexity of everyday day. They announce, life proceeds. News of new life and life is rhythm through a microphone. Transferring beams of electric life every moment.
the sound explodes in my ears, a burst of breath deafening me. the sound of my heartbeat rushes through my ears, and i think it is amazing that the microphone can magnify that too.
I want a microphone so I don’t have to shout. I want to be heard. I want to tell the world! I want there to be loud speakers in every street, in every school, in parks and fields. I want my voice to be heard. This is the message…
As i Use the microphone to project ones,voice a choice in ones use, as i Mc it words u see and hear with words that play in mind, that reaches the great vine, that lasts within moments that pass, the life of ones state , so speak Your thoughts and keep in mind, Life is divine, read in between the lines, and learn as u apply, amplify with this verbal tool, PLay the sound that melody and that tune thats you.
it was scary. the sound exploded in my face, and i froze in place. they were all staring at me. why? did they hear it too? the buzzes and twitches and whining and ringing in my ears. i took a breath and felt it magnified across the room, going into eternity.
This is an item used to amplify your voice. It is used commonly at concerts and used to tell people what to do. Microphones can be wireless or connected to a cord to be controlled by a sound board in another room. I work sound board in chapel at my school. They are also used to make people heard on multiple television stations.
i know this is something that is used to record vioces and stuff like that. I’m a fact person. That is probably why I suck at school at the moment, since in IB we don’t do tasks that involves fact. and that’s really shitfaced.
Testing one two three, are you recording me? I am amplifying my voice out and out and out, but you don’t know what i’m saying, but you can hear me. And this is clear. Clear. Clear my mind. Microphone.
Her heart beat like lightening. She trembled and with a deep breath rose to her feet. She walked the long long walk up the steps and took hold of the microphone.
She stepped up to the microphone hesitantly, her mind whirling. She did not know what to say though she had been practicing for hours in front of the mirror. Fear gripped her throat like an iron hand. Her voice cracking as she began.
She clutched the microphone with a white-knuckled grip and swallowed, feeling the click in the back of her throat. There were so many people. So many people out there beyond the lights. She couldn’t see their faces, but she could see their outlines, their shapes. Their numbers. She tried to take a deep breath, but it went in shallow and shaky. She didn’t know if she’d be able to do this.
its all a rush to be heard in this life. Everyone wants the microphone to get their point across. But im interested most in the people who shy away from the microphone, from the spotlight even, Those people are the ones with real stories, not like the ones we hear every fecking day of the week. Those people have the news.
I look down at the audience, at all their expecting eyes staring right back at me
I never sung in front of others before
What if they think I suck?
My palms are sweaty as I wrap them around the microphone.
Oh god my voice cracked.
Knock her off that soap box
Nobody wants to hear the truth
Hide the microphone
Their ears will bleed from contempt
This trail blazer needs her head checked
Heart and soul?
If they want to be bowled
Over
They’ll switch on the cricket
Microphone. Such a simplistic term I can’t even think of what to say for it. Does it have deep meaning? I mean, I guess you could say that it makes people louder, which people could say is symbolic for importance. You know, it spices up what’s already been said, but that’s just boring and somewhat cliche. Straightforward- a microphone is something used to amplify sound, though for some it could be more than that. For some people, a microphone is a life. For singers and for speakers, a microphone is a summation of their existence.
But to me…it’s just a microphone.
I’m still waiting for that term that sums up who I am.
speaking, blaring, screeching. does she want attention, does she have something to say? announcing, telling, proudly proclaiming. any regrets? wish you could take it back? and the crowd, quietly listening, politely clapping. always judging.
Can you hear me now? The boy asked looking at the gril who sat in the back of the empty auditorium. She giggled an clapped for the boy who was smiling widely he laughed and shook his head at here actions. She laughed again.
Sing me a song! She said.
Is that an order or a request? He Asked
A request of course. She replied with a sweet smile.
Fair enough. He said I will sing you a song then. I’ll sing feeling good by al green. She giggled and clapped her hands again
I love that song. lol
i am not supposed to think … only dream i am a confused person with nothing to say and i am not allowed to think. there was a chance that i would say something innovative. there is too much to question .. to be unsure of ..
So this whole world can hear me…and? Oh, so I hadn’t thought about the part where I have something to say, so I stand uncomfortably but resolutely here, the sound of my breath like jet engines for the crowd–we are all moving through the air and we might as well know it. To the rhythm of my breath.
The girl picked up the microphone from the floor, and not knowing anyone watched her she began to sing. One of the songs she sang touched the man standing in the darkened corner with such force he felt tears prick his
It sat in my hand like a lump of coal. They all wanted me to sing, but I knew my voice would come out like shattered concrete. It was stupid to come here on Karaoke night. What was I thinking?
(I should be studying, and I shouldn’t be on oneword)
Microphone made me think of a song I use to love by Utada Hikaru, and it was “easy breezy”. Good song, good times. I always wish I could be so comfortable as to sing into a microphone; it’s one of my greatest fears. I’d rather do that, though, than have to dance around on stage.
Oh – I just remembered. I have done all of those things. I must have forgotten them on purpose or something…Score one for me.
Microphone hogged and manipulated. Forgetting the purpose. Forgetting the ups and down to speaking out and acting out. Forever a microphone of too much and too little. Too much loud and too much soft.
Sing out! Do it as loud as you can. Let the first notes guide the next ones, then switch up the tune, and the rhythm, string that one out and then counterpoint and bring it back home. Do it again. Make five of these, as many as you need to be done.
He held the microphone close to his lips, as the song he had played for me earlier that day rang through the speakers in the open bar. He looked directly at me, and I grew furious. He knew how I felt about him, about that song. But, still, he didn’t flinch when I stood up and walked out of the bar.
is the amplification of one’s voice. it doesnt have to be a literal microphone. hairbrushes, cups, large spoons are all acceptable forms of voice amplifiers. and sometimes better than real ones.
I grabbed the microphone and held back my tears. I was toasting my best friend who just so happen to be my sister. On her wedding day.
Take the stage. You’re in the spotlight. Let the lights shine upon you. Let the microphone amplify your beautiful voice. Let the audience watch as you live your dream.
Listening to sound as one flows through life. Broadcasting rhythm. Taking down the complexity of everyday day. They announce, life proceeds. News of new life and life is rhythm through a microphone. Transferring beams of electric life every moment.
the sound explodes in my ears, a burst of breath deafening me. the sound of my heartbeat rushes through my ears, and i think it is amazing that the microphone can magnify that too.
I want a microphone so I don’t have to shout. I want to be heard. I want to tell the world! I want there to be loud speakers in every street, in every school, in parks and fields. I want my voice to be heard. This is the message…
As i Use the microphone to project ones,voice a choice in ones use, as i Mc it words u see and hear with words that play in mind, that reaches the great vine, that lasts within moments that pass, the life of ones state , so speak Your thoughts and keep in mind, Life is divine, read in between the lines, and learn as u apply, amplify with this verbal tool, PLay the sound that melody and that tune thats you.
it was scary. the sound exploded in my face, and i froze in place. they were all staring at me. why? did they hear it too? the buzzes and twitches and whining and ringing in my ears. i took a breath and felt it magnified across the room, going into eternity.
This is an item used to amplify your voice. It is used commonly at concerts and used to tell people what to do. Microphones can be wireless or connected to a cord to be controlled by a sound board in another room. I work sound board in chapel at my school. They are also used to make people heard on multiple television stations.
i know this is something that is used to record vioces and stuff like that. I’m a fact person. That is probably why I suck at school at the moment, since in IB we don’t do tasks that involves fact. and that’s really shitfaced.
Testing one two three, are you recording me? I am amplifying my voice out and out and out, but you don’t know what i’m saying, but you can hear me. And this is clear. Clear. Clear my mind. Microphone.
He practically screamed into the microphone, and pointed straight at me as he sang, “She f***** hates me, la la la love!”
Her heart beat like lightening. She trembled and with a deep breath rose to her feet. She walked the long long walk up the steps and took hold of the microphone.
She stepped up to the microphone hesitantly, her mind whirling. She did not know what to say though she had been practicing for hours in front of the mirror. Fear gripped her throat like an iron hand. Her voice cracking as she began.
She clutched the microphone with a white-knuckled grip and swallowed, feeling the click in the back of her throat. There were so many people. So many people out there beyond the lights. She couldn’t see their faces, but she could see their outlines, their shapes. Their numbers. She tried to take a deep breath, but it went in shallow and shaky. She didn’t know if she’d be able to do this.
its all a rush to be heard in this life. Everyone wants the microphone to get their point across. But im interested most in the people who shy away from the microphone, from the spotlight even, Those people are the ones with real stories, not like the ones we hear every fecking day of the week. Those people have the news.
I look down at the audience, at all their expecting eyes staring right back at me
I never sung in front of others before
What if they think I suck?
My palms are sweaty as I wrap them around the microphone.
Oh god my voice cracked.
I take a nervous breath and let my guitar do the talking. Perhaps one day I’ll muster the courage to sing as loudly as I once did to her.
Knock her off that soap box
Nobody wants to hear the truth
Hide the microphone
Their ears will bleed from contempt
This trail blazer needs her head checked
Heart and soul?
If they want to be bowled
Over
They’ll switch on the cricket
Microphone. Such a simplistic term I can’t even think of what to say for it. Does it have deep meaning? I mean, I guess you could say that it makes people louder, which people could say is symbolic for importance. You know, it spices up what’s already been said, but that’s just boring and somewhat cliche. Straightforward- a microphone is something used to amplify sound, though for some it could be more than that. For some people, a microphone is a life. For singers and for speakers, a microphone is a summation of their existence.
But to me…it’s just a microphone.
I’m still waiting for that term that sums up who I am.
wait… i already wrote about this word. is this deja vu? what the heck is going on. my God… i’m going insane! ahhhh!!!!!!!!!! calm down, self…
I have a microphone. It keeps detecting my “P’s” too much! Blast it, microphone! I HATE you!!! Ugh…
I was wrong. it was Baudelaire. not Bukowski. tell the world. they will hear you now. in French. of course. drunk.
you promised once to read that Bukowski poem to me, didn’t you? I remember it that way, but maybe I am wrong.
The microphone was standing there brazenly before me, begging my lips to dance. I stood there, wondering if I would take the invitation or not.
speaking, blaring, screeching. does she want attention, does she have something to say? announcing, telling, proudly proclaiming. any regrets? wish you could take it back? and the crowd, quietly listening, politely clapping. always judging.
Can you hear me now? The boy asked looking at the gril who sat in the back of the empty auditorium. She giggled an clapped for the boy who was smiling widely he laughed and shook his head at here actions. She laughed again.
Sing me a song! She said.
Is that an order or a request? He Asked
A request of course. She replied with a sweet smile.
Fair enough. He said I will sing you a song then. I’ll sing feeling good by al green. She giggled and clapped her hands again
I love that song. lol
i am not supposed to think … only dream i am a confused person with nothing to say and i am not allowed to think. there was a chance that i would say something innovative. there is too much to question .. to be unsure of ..
So this whole world can hear me…and? Oh, so I hadn’t thought about the part where I have something to say, so I stand uncomfortably but resolutely here, the sound of my breath like jet engines for the crowd–we are all moving through the air and we might as well know it. To the rhythm of my breath.
The girl picked up the microphone from the floor, and not knowing anyone watched her she began to sing. One of the songs she sang touched the man standing in the darkened corner with such force he felt tears prick his
It sat in my hand like a lump of coal. They all wanted me to sing, but I knew my voice would come out like shattered concrete. It was stupid to come here on Karaoke night. What was I thinking?
(I should be studying, and I shouldn’t be on oneword)
Microphone made me think of a song I use to love by Utada Hikaru, and it was “easy breezy”. Good song, good times. I always wish I could be so comfortable as to sing into a microphone; it’s one of my greatest fears. I’d rather do that, though, than have to dance around on stage.
Oh – I just remembered. I have done all of those things. I must have forgotten them on purpose or something…Score one for me.
spotlight. stage set. shuffle feet. cold sweat. heart paces, mind races. inhale, cords reverberate and he speaks.
Microphone hogged and manipulated. Forgetting the purpose. Forgetting the ups and down to speaking out and acting out. Forever a microphone of too much and too little. Too much loud and too much soft.
He walked up to the stage and picked “Bohemian Rhapsody” and in a crowded bar sang it as if his life depended on it.
amplification
simplification
device to make us heard
love for the sounds
of our own existence
hear me
notice me
ELEGY TO A STONE
OH THOU COLD AND LONELY PLACE
WHERE STONES RESEMBLE
A LOVE ONES FACE
WHERE THE READING OF A NAME
AWAKENS MEMORY AND A PAIN
HOW MANY TEARS HAVE HIT THY FACE
HOW MANY THOUGHTS DOES THOU EMBRACE
IS THY GROUND STILL DAMP FROM TEARS
AND SORROWS LASTING
WHEN MINE HIT THY ROCKY FACE
OH I WONDER HOW THEY’LL TASTE
CAN THOU TELL THEM FROM THE RAIN
OR SHALL THEY FALL FOREVER
AMID THE POURING RAIN.
Sing out! Do it as loud as you can. Let the first notes guide the next ones, then switch up the tune, and the rhythm, string that one out and then counterpoint and bring it back home. Do it again. Make five of these, as many as you need to be done.
He held the microphone close to his lips, as the song he had played for me earlier that day rang through the speakers in the open bar. He looked directly at me, and I grew furious. He knew how I felt about him, about that song. But, still, he didn’t flinch when I stood up and walked out of the bar.
Microphones allow you to emit a greater sound than your original sound level. I am done writing. DOONNNEEE!!!! Porabola.
is the amplification of one’s voice. it doesnt have to be a literal microphone. hairbrushes, cups, large spoons are all acceptable forms of voice amplifiers. and sometimes better than real ones.