iron metal prongs like cold steel only hot and silver like a disco dress that i saw once in the window of a thrift store. it struck me dead like it was from the closet of some mother turned waitress from the good old days
At this present moment in my life, the word iron reminds me of Edna Turnblad.
It also reminds me of my childhood, reading the babysitters club. Claudia’s grandmother was 100% Japanese and would “pronounce everything phonetically.”
Iron.
Eye-ron.
Obviously.
Iron II oxide = FeO. Feo = ugly in spanish. She’s so iron II oxide = my personal favourite insult. Iron could combine with other things too. It is the heaviest metal that stars can create via fusion. I once told my mother we were made of cells, not stars, but I have come to realize the song was right as well.
The iron gate closed suddenly with a thud. We were frightened at first. Then as suddenly as it had shut, it opened again. Could it have been the wind? More than likely not. I heard footsteps quickly walking away from the gate. The old man inside the house is known for not ever stepping outside his front door.
Iron. A strong metal. Associated with many strong terms, Iron fist, Iron will. But Iron is malleable, though, at certain temperature and circumstances. This just proves that even the toughest people have weaknesses: they can always be moulded and changed into something else. Someone who is strong may not be strong forever.
I have an iron deficiency. I always think of iron as a very heavy metal, but forget that it runs in my blood everyday. I just realized i should buy more iron pills. iron is fun. does it melt?
like the magnetism of your eyes, she walks without a sound. without a pulse, but all the conviction in the world her eyes are drawn to yours. Your face and my heart become one with the light.
The shackles scraped their skin off in flecks. Dry skin, then bloody skin, shed along the side of a half-cleared road. The iron in their blood mixed with the iron circles chafing their ankles. They polluted the air with a mixture of mineral and skin even as they cleared the road for freer men.
I iron my wrinkled shirts.
I iron my face to you,
into your little heart with
words of happiness and joy
to make you feel so beautiful
and wrinkle-free.
I have enough iron.
Enough clothes to iron
so that you’ll never have to
iron a wrinkled-shirt ever again.
Iron clad, and bananas. Iron man. Bruising from not enough iron. Enemia. The chastity belt in Robinhood Men in Tights. Iron is important. I can’t think of anything more to write about iron.
she picked up the iron pipe she found on the ground and thrusted the rusting metal through the night and deep pit of darkness that enveloped her cold shivering body, unclear where she was or how she came to arrive there. panic struck through her and it only grew stronger as her hearing failed as her eyes in the dark and slowly only became more and more aware of the bloody beating in her ears, her heart pounding, her ragged breath panting loudly. too loudly. the girl froze as the serrated metal pierced her warm skin, sliding through her ribs and out her chest. she fell to the frozen ground with her last breath sending heat vapors into the frigid air. the iron pipe danced off the concrete floor, as it’s momentum allowed the pipe to bounce up into the dark a second, third, and fourth time before rolling into the young girl’s pool of blood surrounding her.
oh dear, i just wrote about this, when i wasn’t signed in.
iron. strength. tough, inside and out. perseverance, but with a hint of vulnerablity: rust. water, the smooth and silky, can break down the strong outer edge. no one knows what will happen next. hmm. iron. yes, iron.
iron. steel. i think of being strong, being hard, tough. being able to do anything without a second thought, but being completely SURE in what you’re doing as well. Hugh Jackman, in a way: the Wolverine costume. all that, knowing what you want. you don’t just have to have an iron body; you can have an iron soul as well: you don’t back down.
iron wine? why did i write that? it was the first thing on my mind but that’s just silly…watch me while i dance with a muffin in my hands:) not one of my more profound entries, but it is the first non type random stuff that sounds deep ones.
The cold hard touch of something or someone that makes you stronger or breaks you apart. Some form from iron while too many others deteriorate, to know what will happen is impossible.
I still remember her grabbing a box of something to eat from the cabinet. She was anemic when she was menstruating, not enough iron. Iron is cold and unfeeling, but when she spoke I imagined something warm, hot, found in meat and in blood. Necessary to fortify our bodies so we can continue to stand even in conditions that make us want to fall.
He’s like iron. But not in the way you would expect.
He doesn’t have an iron fist. He isn’t scary and intimidating.
But he’s iron. Like strength.
He’s iron and strong, and he’s all I need.
His iron arms hold me and I feel safe and warm and needed and loved and I never want him to let go of me because he’s perfect.
I wish I hadn’t listened to her. I was doing her a favor. I bought an iron to take on our trip, for her. They didn’t allow irons. I didn’t know that. It was confiscated and I was the one that had to go through all the trouble to go get it before getting off of the ship and then to carry it around for four hours before we got off the ship. I should not have listened to her at all.
Iron is a metal. Fe. Has a fair amount of chemical energy – Fe2+. Is the basis of the industrial revolution. Has a lot to do with modern day technology.
I already wrote about iron, but I’ll do it again.
I’m inemic, because I have celiac disease which makes it more common for me to be.
Being low on iron is bad, and can make you be more vulnerable to sicknesses and viruses. You also get light headed more and pass out.
iron is an element. it is a metal. its durable and strong, like all metals. iron is also an essential mineral to the body. it is in the multi vitamin i take ever morning. i believe it helps with the blood, but in all honesty i don’t know what its truly for.
I’m low on iron.
I’m inemic.
I have celiac disease which makes it more common for me to be that way.
Being low on iron is dangerous, and makes you sick more often than normal.
It also makes you pass out easier.
iron
iron is one of the strongest materials known to man, We used to use bronze for weapons but the whomever discovered iron first was king, at least until someone else found out about it.
your fingers are like iron. theyre hard and cold and dark and i can’t stare your face. it hurts, i can feel them pounding into me. sticking in my brain. your steely iron fingers squeezing my brain into pulp.
Pumping iron. That’s all they do. They go to the gym. Hours upon hours each day. They run, they play basket ball, and they pump iron. They only worry about themselves, their physique, they just want to have muscles so they can get all the hot babes. Well screw them.
the iron was hot sitting on the counter. so hot you could cook an egg on it. she reached down and held the tip of her index finger millimeters away from it, contemplating whether or not to touch.
It is a type of metal that attracts magnets. It is also something to look for on the health bar of a food item. You need iron in your diet and it is given to you in many food items.
the world was corrupted, resources were few. the empress, empress Xela, did not want to have mines and iron oil rigs, she wanted to conserve the natural beauty of her planet. then one day the gods gave back to her desolate lands, and the harvests became plenty and resources were once again bountiful, but that was until the emperor of their neighboring planet destroyed it all. he was ruthless. he took control over Xela’s planet, and iron oil rigs were built to drill for the fuel for his war machines and mines were dug to find coal to power his other machines. the land was in a state of weariness and Xela was chained up in prison. there was no hope. people were in despair and so the emperor killed them off one by one, until no one was left.
Blood tastes like iron mixed with gravy. I know this because when I was punched in the teeth tonight by a drunk bandit, it was like I was gnawing on a razor sauteed in my grandmother’s Thanksgiving dinner. She made the best mashed potatoes, and my uncle carved the turkey. He carved it so thin that it was like having death lite dancing in your mouth.
she never has enough iron in her blood to donate. because she doesn’t eat meat. because she hates her body enough to deprive it of absolutely anything so that she’ll lose weight.
it’s a disease, and i’m sick for wanting to have it too.
Iron is a strong material in which we make materials. What if our hearts were made of iron? Would we be able to feel any pain? Would we be like gods? Or would be clueless ignorant beings vulnerable to our own thoughts? Truth is we are made out of iron. The only reason to why we hurt ourselves is because of ourselves. Think about it, think about iron.
My town was wood. And when I thought of it this way, there wasn’t anything left to think at all. Iron. Wood. What was left of the miners were gone. What was left of the wood was taken. We were alone now, and no one wanted to come back to put things in their place again.
The taste was thick and the liquid nearly suffocating – the girl nearly forgot how to breathe and swallow. ‘What was that taste…?’ She crinkled her nose and gasped for air, her throat feeling so slick that she had to suppress a shudder. ‘…iron.’
I am not made of iron.
I am not that strong.
You can bend and break me—
as if I am plastic.
I am not made of iron.
Your words do tear me down.
I am not made of iron.
I cry myself to sleep.
I am not made of iron,
so don’t think that I don’t hurt.
The iron ore found in the earth is used for many things. At the moment I can’t think of one use for it but I know it’s there and I know it’s there for a reason. Also iron is something you to clothes when they are wrinkled. I do not iron my clothes. I think ironing is a waste of time, that’s why we have clothes dryers to take the wrinkles out of clothes.
iron metal prongs like cold steel only hot and silver like a disco dress that i saw once in the window of a thrift store. it struck me dead like it was from the closet of some mother turned waitress from the good old days
i’ve got an iron
chestplate, secure and strong.
ever since sixth grade, it’s been there,
slowly rusting
but ever strong.
there have been a few dents,
a few holes,
but nothing a blacksmith can’t fix.
but, oh, sometimes it is so heavy.
At this present moment in my life, the word iron reminds me of Edna Turnblad.
It also reminds me of my childhood, reading the babysitters club. Claudia’s grandmother was 100% Japanese and would “pronounce everything phonetically.”
Iron.
Eye-ron.
Obviously.
Iron II oxide = FeO. Feo = ugly in spanish. She’s so iron II oxide = my personal favourite insult. Iron could combine with other things too. It is the heaviest metal that stars can create via fusion. I once told my mother we were made of cells, not stars, but I have come to realize the song was right as well.
The iron gate closed suddenly with a thud. We were frightened at first. Then as suddenly as it had shut, it opened again. Could it have been the wind? More than likely not. I heard footsteps quickly walking away from the gate. The old man inside the house is known for not ever stepping outside his front door.
ironic is a element made of metal which can be found in a quarry next to a cave which is underground like street rap and grafetti its illegal
Iron. A strong metal. Associated with many strong terms, Iron fist, Iron will. But Iron is malleable, though, at certain temperature and circumstances. This just proves that even the toughest people have weaknesses: they can always be moulded and changed into something else. Someone who is strong may not be strong forever.
Iron doesn’t break under any pressure.
Nor I.
I have an iron deficiency. I always think of iron as a very heavy metal, but forget that it runs in my blood everyday. I just realized i should buy more iron pills. iron is fun. does it melt?
like the magnetism of your eyes, she walks without a sound. without a pulse, but all the conviction in the world her eyes are drawn to yours. Your face and my heart become one with the light.
The shackles scraped their skin off in flecks. Dry skin, then bloody skin, shed along the side of a half-cleared road. The iron in their blood mixed with the iron circles chafing their ankles. They polluted the air with a mixture of mineral and skin even as they cleared the road for freer men.
I iron my wrinkled shirts.
I iron my face to you,
into your little heart with
words of happiness and joy
to make you feel so beautiful
and wrinkle-free.
I have enough iron.
Enough clothes to iron
so that you’ll never have to
iron a wrinkled-shirt ever again.
Iron clad, and bananas. Iron man. Bruising from not enough iron. Enemia. The chastity belt in Robinhood Men in Tights. Iron is important. I can’t think of anything more to write about iron.
she picked up the iron pipe she found on the ground and thrusted the rusting metal through the night and deep pit of darkness that enveloped her cold shivering body, unclear where she was or how she came to arrive there. panic struck through her and it only grew stronger as her hearing failed as her eyes in the dark and slowly only became more and more aware of the bloody beating in her ears, her heart pounding, her ragged breath panting loudly. too loudly. the girl froze as the serrated metal pierced her warm skin, sliding through her ribs and out her chest. she fell to the frozen ground with her last breath sending heat vapors into the frigid air. the iron pipe danced off the concrete floor, as it’s momentum allowed the pipe to bounce up into the dark a second, third, and fourth time before rolling into the young girl’s pool of blood surrounding her.
oh dear, i just wrote about this, when i wasn’t signed in.
iron. strength. tough, inside and out. perseverance, but with a hint of vulnerablity: rust. water, the smooth and silky, can break down the strong outer edge. no one knows what will happen next. hmm. iron. yes, iron.
iron. steel. i think of being strong, being hard, tough. being able to do anything without a second thought, but being completely SURE in what you’re doing as well. Hugh Jackman, in a way: the Wolverine costume. all that, knowing what you want. you don’t just have to have an iron body; you can have an iron soul as well: you don’t back down.
iron wine? why did i write that? it was the first thing on my mind but that’s just silly…watch me while i dance with a muffin in my hands:) not one of my more profound entries, but it is the first non type random stuff that sounds deep ones.
The cold hard touch of something or someone that makes you stronger or breaks you apart. Some form from iron while too many others deteriorate, to know what will happen is impossible.
I still remember her grabbing a box of something to eat from the cabinet. She was anemic when she was menstruating, not enough iron. Iron is cold and unfeeling, but when she spoke I imagined something warm, hot, found in meat and in blood. Necessary to fortify our bodies so we can continue to stand even in conditions that make us want to fall.
He’s like iron. But not in the way you would expect.
He doesn’t have an iron fist. He isn’t scary and intimidating.
But he’s iron. Like strength.
He’s iron and strong, and he’s all I need.
His iron arms hold me and I feel safe and warm and needed and loved and I never want him to let go of me because he’s perfect.
I wish I hadn’t listened to her. I was doing her a favor. I bought an iron to take on our trip, for her. They didn’t allow irons. I didn’t know that. It was confiscated and I was the one that had to go through all the trouble to go get it before getting off of the ship and then to carry it around for four hours before we got off the ship. I should not have listened to her at all.
Iron is a metal. Fe. Has a fair amount of chemical energy – Fe2+. Is the basis of the industrial revolution. Has a lot to do with modern day technology.
I already wrote about iron, but I’ll do it again.
I’m inemic, because I have celiac disease which makes it more common for me to be.
Being low on iron is bad, and can make you be more vulnerable to sicknesses and viruses. You also get light headed more and pass out.
my will is not strong and i feel your magnetic pull that my body is drawn to.
science says opposites attract and, darling,
who am i to deny my nature.
iron is an element. it is a metal. its durable and strong, like all metals. iron is also an essential mineral to the body. it is in the multi vitamin i take ever morning. i believe it helps with the blood, but in all honesty i don’t know what its truly for.
I’m low on iron.
I’m inemic.
I have celiac disease which makes it more common for me to be that way.
Being low on iron is dangerous, and makes you sick more often than normal.
It also makes you pass out easier.
iron
iron is one of the strongest materials known to man, We used to use bronze for weapons but the whomever discovered iron first was king, at least until someone else found out about it.
your fingers are like iron. theyre hard and cold and dark and i can’t stare your face. it hurts, i can feel them pounding into me. sticking in my brain. your steely iron fingers squeezing my brain into pulp.
Pumping iron. That’s all they do. They go to the gym. Hours upon hours each day. They run, they play basket ball, and they pump iron. They only worry about themselves, their physique, they just want to have muscles so they can get all the hot babes. Well screw them.
the iron was hot sitting on the counter. so hot you could cook an egg on it. she reached down and held the tip of her index finger millimeters away from it, contemplating whether or not to touch.
It is a type of metal that attracts magnets. It is also something to look for on the health bar of a food item. You need iron in your diet and it is given to you in many food items.
strong but rusts in water
goes weak
or is that steel?
iron will
iron fist
iron taste in my mouth when i bite my lip and bleed
the world was corrupted, resources were few. the empress, empress Xela, did not want to have mines and iron oil rigs, she wanted to conserve the natural beauty of her planet. then one day the gods gave back to her desolate lands, and the harvests became plenty and resources were once again bountiful, but that was until the emperor of their neighboring planet destroyed it all. he was ruthless. he took control over Xela’s planet, and iron oil rigs were built to drill for the fuel for his war machines and mines were dug to find coal to power his other machines. the land was in a state of weariness and Xela was chained up in prison. there was no hope. people were in despair and so the emperor killed them off one by one, until no one was left.
Blood tastes like iron mixed with gravy. I know this because when I was punched in the teeth tonight by a drunk bandit, it was like I was gnawing on a razor sauteed in my grandmother’s Thanksgiving dinner. She made the best mashed potatoes, and my uncle carved the turkey. He carved it so thin that it was like having death lite dancing in your mouth.
she never has enough iron in her blood to donate. because she doesn’t eat meat. because she hates her body enough to deprive it of absolutely anything so that she’ll lose weight.
it’s a disease, and i’m sick for wanting to have it too.
Iron is a strong material in which we make materials. What if our hearts were made of iron? Would we be able to feel any pain? Would we be like gods? Or would be clueless ignorant beings vulnerable to our own thoughts? Truth is we are made out of iron. The only reason to why we hurt ourselves is because of ourselves. Think about it, think about iron.
My town was wood. And when I thought of it this way, there wasn’t anything left to think at all. Iron. Wood. What was left of the miners were gone. What was left of the wood was taken. We were alone now, and no one wanted to come back to put things in their place again.
The taste was thick and the liquid nearly suffocating – the girl nearly forgot how to breathe and swallow. ‘What was that taste…?’ She crinkled her nose and gasped for air, her throat feeling so slick that she had to suppress a shudder. ‘…iron.’
I am not made of iron.
I am not that strong.
You can bend and break me—
as if I am plastic.
I am not made of iron.
Your words do tear me down.
I am not made of iron.
I cry myself to sleep.
I am not made of iron,
so don’t think that I don’t hurt.
The iron ore found in the earth is used for many things. At the moment I can’t think of one use for it but I know it’s there and I know it’s there for a reason. Also iron is something you to clothes when they are wrinkled. I do not iron my clothes. I think ironing is a waste of time, that’s why we have clothes dryers to take the wrinkles out of clothes.