How I speak to a large group of people. I’ve never felt comfortable using one. I prefer to speak loudly enough for everyone to hear me. I have a large voice so it is usually strong enough to let everyone hear what I’m saying. Although the whole conotation of a microphone means that I have to give a speech, which I hate to do. I’d rather speak one
KML
The microphone looked imposing to me, and I shied away from it, but Darcy pushed me back towards it. “This is you,” she warned me, looking rather intense, and I looked afraid. “Why? Why me? I’m afraid of this, I’m afraid of everything,” I thought, but said nothing. Darcy looked at me again, urging me, and I did what she wanted me to do – I went up on to the stage, grapped the microphone, and began to sing.
lolaa
As I step up to the mic all I can do is shout. All I can do is think of the evil britches in my dryer at home and scream for their sanctification. “Oh evil pants” help my shoe horn shaped buttocks.
Travis
For the past fifty years or more, the evils of the microphone have been made known to all. This sound-gobbling device has been known to make ears writhe in pain as it causes speakers to squeak and produce other volatile noises.
Jordan
are what people use to speak loudly in, or sing into.
sal
Your voice,
blaring through the speakers,
it haunts me.
There’s more to us
than just whispers,
scream in my ears,
strip away my fears.
Jess
sound is great and i like to hear msuic especially live music it sounds even better
A
Bits of marshmallow came flying from his mouth, clinging to the mike in all their sticky gooeyness. The crowd laughed and applauded as the man left the stage. The next woman stepped forth. She tried to hum Jesus loves me but the marshmallows were barely fitting in her mouth as it was! They pushed and shoved as they clambered to come out of her mouth; she too left the stage.
(haha. The wonderfulness of the musical chubby bunny.)
misha
i love microphones,
opening the stage to pronounce your agreement
to the society of what we call
open ears
who are we to realize that one man cant be heard
if not a man
yet a woman
maybe a child
you are the start of the generation of who we are
let it be heard
torijagoda
i speak into the microphone and what comes out? not what i said. is there something warping what i say as it goes through the crosshatch? it is amplified, echoing throughout the space between the trees. and owl hoots, the microphone catches it, and out comes the bleat of a lamb. nothing is what it seems. nothing goes into the microphone, everything comes out. amplified
shayne
the microphone cackled as it prung to life
danny
he stare into the microphone, but no words came out of his mouth, he was silent, morphed into a create that he did not know. he was suppose to be an artist, but now he was a blank peice of canvas lying on an empty road. his heart beat, the crowd was waiting, for something, words, to come from his mouth, so they could chant aloud, it usually reminded him that he felt like god on stage, but not tonight.
me carrie
at the microphone, were all lonly. we stand upfront, facing everyone, even everything, for it rushes down into us, all our life and thoughts and shit we forgot to fear. we have to tell them. but how do we? theyre waiting, waiting for our words that are sure to make sense. but not to us. not to them. so others who wrote them. were only a mouthpeice. i didnt realy love you. i
zoe
on the microphone, the rapper screams of his struggles and things that are socially accepted to struggle from. is it all a front? is he living in his moment or the moment of another, a body, a group?
c.c. boves
I’m not thinking…I’m just writing.
Erika
i am talkinf inside a microphone. i don’t know what to say but there is 30000 people in front of me, waiting. they wait for me to talk about hate, they want me to kill someone.
vanessa
I don’t want microphone again!
D:
Wires criss-cross over one another, stiff mesh formed as a bubble. The pad of your fingertip scrapes down the material, feeling the rigid edges and sleek lines.
Crimson
this is a test. How do I get to the next word?
s kramps
She took the microphone from him and stood in the center of the stage, she cleared her throat nervously and the feedback reverberated through the room. There were awkward coughs from the audience, and she stammered a nervous “hello” and her voice echoed and startled her. She closed her eyes and then began…
Kathy
A MICROPHONE IS USED to talk into something. I like microphones because you can make yourself sound like a transformer. I want to have a transformers microphone for halloween, but I don’t have moniez to buy one.
Taylur
you make me speak words i do not want to say
loud. that’s what you make me sometimes
it’s good though. that i have you for strength.
Anonymous
I use you in the shower. I act like your in my hand. I sing in you. Im not all that great, but you know, makes me feel human and girly. I just think of my future, though it sort of has nothing to do with it. I want to photograph people singing, traveling with them. Traveling the world and getting to know people, places, things, ideas, creativity. I have none. Could you lend me some Mr. Microphone?
Erika
I use a microphne to sing songs. I love to sing and the best microphone I ever saw was the gold one Prince sang with during his symbol tour.
Rebecca
Speak
Catherine
this is a test.
s kramps
He took the microphone in his hand and began to speak.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing up here,” he confessed.
“I called you all here for a very important reason, but I don’t know what it is just yet.”
The crowd murmured.
Lynne
The microphone stood in front of her with the light bearing down. THe heat from all of the lamps was excruciating and she could hardly focus. The sound of random coughs and rustling paper filtered through to her ears as well as the mumblings of the crowd. everyone was eager to hear her words amplified to them through the magic of the microphone.
Nicole
they’re for singin into. i used to sing, and i kinda miss it.
they’re kindof awkward to use. like they’re meant for performing and being showy….haha not exactly but thats how it feels to hold them.
nobody
Microphones make you sound louder. I get too nervous to talk into them. But I always want to. It makes me feel important. For christmas one year I got a microphone and I plugged it into my Dad’s amp. It wasn’t that cool, but I got a kick out of it.
Hannah Michelle
I was singing into the microphone, a beautiful melody spilled from my mind. A microphone, one way to free my expressions. A microphone will help me share the world with all the love I have to give. Just listen to my words through this microphone, I will help you live.
Chandler
speak into it, sing, electrocute, it will kill you, the root of all evil, sizzle!
rae
I stepped up to the microphone. Sweat dripped down my neck, and then, when I was supposed to start singing, I found that I couldn’t. I couldn’t bare my soul to all these people who didn’t know me. The rhythm, the swing of poetry.
A
It’s been a while since I last wrote oneword. Oneword is like a microphone that amplifies my thoughts onto a solid page; I haven’t written much of anything since practicing oneword.
Andrew
The rockstar was standing on stage, shy and quiet. It was unexpected, so far as the audience was concerened. Then – suddenly – ROCK occurred. The audience began to rage, to shout, to yell and to jive with the beat. The rockstar slowly broke her shell.
Matt
Microphone. The stage, standing before a crowd. Light bathing everything. Blinding. Shining. No words to amplify. They’re all still inside my mouth. I want them to come out. There’s not enough room in there. Everyone is waiting. Packed house. Not an empty seat. Let’s go.
Cole
and again. same word. ok, thanks for the attempt.
me again
this is the same word I get every time I come to the sight. how odd.
me
I’m singing and there is a huge crowd and I’m scared so much that my hands and feet are shaking terribly because no one notices because my voice is strong and this is something I never ever ever would do but I did and I’m proud and they loved me.
Amanda
techonological tool, still considered new to some extent. helps with recordings, and entertainment fields.
How I speak to a large group of people. I’ve never felt comfortable using one. I prefer to speak loudly enough for everyone to hear me. I have a large voice so it is usually strong enough to let everyone hear what I’m saying. Although the whole conotation of a microphone means that I have to give a speech, which I hate to do. I’d rather speak one
The microphone looked imposing to me, and I shied away from it, but Darcy pushed me back towards it. “This is you,” she warned me, looking rather intense, and I looked afraid. “Why? Why me? I’m afraid of this, I’m afraid of everything,” I thought, but said nothing. Darcy looked at me again, urging me, and I did what she wanted me to do – I went up on to the stage, grapped the microphone, and began to sing.
As I step up to the mic all I can do is shout. All I can do is think of the evil britches in my dryer at home and scream for their sanctification. “Oh evil pants” help my shoe horn shaped buttocks.
For the past fifty years or more, the evils of the microphone have been made known to all. This sound-gobbling device has been known to make ears writhe in pain as it causes speakers to squeak and produce other volatile noises.
are what people use to speak loudly in, or sing into.
Your voice,
blaring through the speakers,
it haunts me.
There’s more to us
than just whispers,
scream in my ears,
strip away my fears.
sound is great and i like to hear msuic especially live music it sounds even better
Bits of marshmallow came flying from his mouth, clinging to the mike in all their sticky gooeyness. The crowd laughed and applauded as the man left the stage. The next woman stepped forth. She tried to hum Jesus loves me but the marshmallows were barely fitting in her mouth as it was! They pushed and shoved as they clambered to come out of her mouth; she too left the stage.
(haha. The wonderfulness of the musical chubby bunny.)
i love microphones,
opening the stage to pronounce your agreement
to the society of what we call
open ears
who are we to realize that one man cant be heard
if not a man
yet a woman
maybe a child
you are the start of the generation of who we are
let it be heard
i speak into the microphone and what comes out? not what i said. is there something warping what i say as it goes through the crosshatch? it is amplified, echoing throughout the space between the trees. and owl hoots, the microphone catches it, and out comes the bleat of a lamb. nothing is what it seems. nothing goes into the microphone, everything comes out. amplified
the microphone cackled as it prung to life
he stare into the microphone, but no words came out of his mouth, he was silent, morphed into a create that he did not know. he was suppose to be an artist, but now he was a blank peice of canvas lying on an empty road. his heart beat, the crowd was waiting, for something, words, to come from his mouth, so they could chant aloud, it usually reminded him that he felt like god on stage, but not tonight.
at the microphone, were all lonly. we stand upfront, facing everyone, even everything, for it rushes down into us, all our life and thoughts and shit we forgot to fear. we have to tell them. but how do we? theyre waiting, waiting for our words that are sure to make sense. but not to us. not to them. so others who wrote them. were only a mouthpeice. i didnt realy love you. i
on the microphone, the rapper screams of his struggles and things that are socially accepted to struggle from. is it all a front? is he living in his moment or the moment of another, a body, a group?
I’m not thinking…I’m just writing.
i am talkinf inside a microphone. i don’t know what to say but there is 30000 people in front of me, waiting. they wait for me to talk about hate, they want me to kill someone.
I don’t want microphone again!
Wires criss-cross over one another, stiff mesh formed as a bubble. The pad of your fingertip scrapes down the material, feeling the rigid edges and sleek lines.
this is a test. How do I get to the next word?
She took the microphone from him and stood in the center of the stage, she cleared her throat nervously and the feedback reverberated through the room. There were awkward coughs from the audience, and she stammered a nervous “hello” and her voice echoed and startled her. She closed her eyes and then began…
A MICROPHONE IS USED to talk into something. I like microphones because you can make yourself sound like a transformer. I want to have a transformers microphone for halloween, but I don’t have moniez to buy one.
you make me speak words i do not want to say
loud. that’s what you make me sometimes
it’s good though. that i have you for strength.
I use you in the shower. I act like your in my hand. I sing in you. Im not all that great, but you know, makes me feel human and girly. I just think of my future, though it sort of has nothing to do with it. I want to photograph people singing, traveling with them. Traveling the world and getting to know people, places, things, ideas, creativity. I have none. Could you lend me some Mr. Microphone?
I use a microphne to sing songs. I love to sing and the best microphone I ever saw was the gold one Prince sang with during his symbol tour.
Speak
this is a test.
He took the microphone in his hand and began to speak.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing up here,” he confessed.
“I called you all here for a very important reason, but I don’t know what it is just yet.”
The crowd murmured.
The microphone stood in front of her with the light bearing down. THe heat from all of the lamps was excruciating and she could hardly focus. The sound of random coughs and rustling paper filtered through to her ears as well as the mumblings of the crowd. everyone was eager to hear her words amplified to them through the magic of the microphone.
they’re for singin into. i used to sing, and i kinda miss it.
they’re kindof awkward to use. like they’re meant for performing and being showy….haha not exactly but thats how it feels to hold them.
Microphones make you sound louder. I get too nervous to talk into them. But I always want to. It makes me feel important. For christmas one year I got a microphone and I plugged it into my Dad’s amp. It wasn’t that cool, but I got a kick out of it.
I was singing into the microphone, a beautiful melody spilled from my mind. A microphone, one way to free my expressions. A microphone will help me share the world with all the love I have to give. Just listen to my words through this microphone, I will help you live.
speak into it, sing, electrocute, it will kill you, the root of all evil, sizzle!
I stepped up to the microphone. Sweat dripped down my neck, and then, when I was supposed to start singing, I found that I couldn’t. I couldn’t bare my soul to all these people who didn’t know me. The rhythm, the swing of poetry.
It’s been a while since I last wrote oneword. Oneword is like a microphone that amplifies my thoughts onto a solid page; I haven’t written much of anything since practicing oneword.
The rockstar was standing on stage, shy and quiet. It was unexpected, so far as the audience was concerened. Then – suddenly – ROCK occurred. The audience began to rage, to shout, to yell and to jive with the beat. The rockstar slowly broke her shell.
Microphone. The stage, standing before a crowd. Light bathing everything. Blinding. Shining. No words to amplify. They’re all still inside my mouth. I want them to come out. There’s not enough room in there. Everyone is waiting. Packed house. Not an empty seat. Let’s go.
and again. same word. ok, thanks for the attempt.
this is the same word I get every time I come to the sight. how odd.
I’m singing and there is a huge crowd and I’m scared so much that my hands and feet are shaking terribly because no one notices because my voice is strong and this is something I never ever ever would do but I did and I’m proud and they loved me.
techonological tool, still considered new to some extent. helps with recordings, and entertainment fields.