Community Writing Contest #2

Huzzah, 'tis the hour upon which we rejoice, for what wondrous literature hath been wrought in days passed that we now seek to once more tame the competitive spirit in forging!

Or, in normal speak: since the last attempt went well, time for another writing contest.

This time, we address that most ever-present of literary concepts: love. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it sounds. Your challenge this time is to drive to the ultimate edge of craziness through the power of simile.

Pick some strange concept or object and explain to me why it’s the perfect analogy for your view of love. Submissions must start with, ‘My love is like…’ followed by the item you’re comparing it to, but after that, everything is up to you. Poems, rants, anecdotes, all manner of writing forms are welcome.

As before, avoid topics that could be considered controversial. I don’t want anyone comparing their love to a certain president, thank you very much. The text of your submission should also be placed in a spoiler (see ‘Hide Details’ under the cog at the right of the post editor).

To give you an idea of what I’m looking for, here’s a poem explaining why love is exactly identical to a Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor.

My Love is Like a Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor

My love is like a Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor,
Dancing like a stage actor,
Spinning like an acrobat,
Unprecedented tactical capabilities in aerial combat.

My love is like a Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor,
Writing the next chapter,
Diving over and aft,
A fifth-generation, single-seat, twin-engine, all-weather stealth aircraft.

My love is like a Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor,
My wonderful entrancing captor,
A world like your eyes into which I’ll delve,
Discontinued, mid-2012.

As you can see, the more outlandish the better. This is just a demonstration of course - I’d prefer not to see everyone write a poem or compare their love to military equipment. I’ll give extra credit to those who find creative formats/genres for their outpourings.

You have two weeks. Submit as many entries as you want.



I instantly thought of this: (Jontron: Love is like drugs), but here’s my poem about when I started associating love with Liopleurodons.

My love is like a Liopleurodon

'Twas the night before christmas and all was swell,
Nah, just kidding, it was a living hell.
The children were rough and the parents were gone,
All except this adult Liopleurodon.

It was looking a bit fishy, lurking around the pool,
Some kids had sworn they once saw it drool.
However, the creature wasn’t hungry for human,
It was only looking after the energetic children.

Once the clock had struck midnight, the parents were home,
and the children were screaming about a strange pool foam.
The Liopleurodon was actually a faery from yore,
And its love was so big, the parents would demand more
So much so, that the faery collapsed and melted,
Leaving behind a trail of mush and dread.

The moral of this story, if there could ever be one,
Is not to trust a faery into keeping the party fun,
(It is implied that fun here means no children,
So the parents wanted a party without their kin)

The kids the next day all got their presents,
But one kid had a very special one sent.
It was simply titled:“To my best friend”
It was a Liopleurodon stuffed with love, the end!

This was…special, to say the least, and a fine addition to the writing contest series.



My love is like Malaria

My love is akin to malaria in many ways. Spread primarily by mosquitoes, my love can be prevented by large amounts of “OFF! Deep Woods Insect Repellent VIII (Dry)”. A mosquito net is also useful. My love can also be spread by used needles. If you should come into contact with a used needle check if it has punctured the skin. If it has, wait a few weeks to see if you have acquired chills, fever, and sweating. If it has it is likely too late, my love is often fatal unless diagnosed quickly. Mental confusion is also common.

Those who are diagnosed with my love are uncoincidentally unlucky and should seek help and (unlike malaria) should lock all doors.

Clindamycin should be taken in large doses in any case where you have caught my love without hesitation as it can sense fear (unlike malaria). In an unlikely, but useful discovery in Detroit, Michigan, discovered that removing your veins, arteries, heart, and any other tissue containing blood is highly effective in preventing and irradiating my love.

Another astounding discovery in the prevention of my love is another relation to malaria. Mosquitos need still water to reproduce. My love is much alike this. It spreads quickly in any kind of water including but not limited to; bath water, sinks, and that cup that you forgot about.

The first human recording of this disease was written by a Sudanese boy in 1692. This is a rough translation.
“My love, it has been many weeks since I have been stuck in my bed. I don’t know how much longer I can go on without you…”
Whether my love has mind altering effects is still being researched.

One last similarity between my love and malaria is that those affected are both in decline. Slowly the amount of people that witness my love are coming and going, it is truly sad. In conclusion, visit Africa without bug spray to witness my love once and for all.

I probably could have written more, but my humor is already rapidly deteriorating along with any sense of reality.


Ok, I ended up writing something that might be a bit far out. I am not really sure what I wrote, so I hope it makes somekind of sense.


My love is like 1.61803398875

My love is like 1.61803398875.


An unheard explosion, sparks of creation. Rugged hands grasping stone tools. The first fire set ablaze. The birth of time. Blood flowing in fresh veins. Cells binding and expanding. No melody, no rhythm. Red roots growing.

Even in the first dark nights, I gaze upon their creation, with admiration and compassion. I see what attracts me.

Dust scattered across the sky. Melting. Blending. Stone tools are created, striking down their prey. Stone walls, with hand-shaped paintings. Forests set ablaze. A heart is forming, pumping blood through fresh veins. A melody takes form. Orange flowers blooming.

Their numbers swell, I have nothing but admiration. I consider if it’s time for pursuit.


Solid bodies form. Colliding. Crashing. Bricks are laid. The first foundations. Forests make way for fields. Smoke filled homes scattered across the plains. Calcium collects, bone begin to form. A melody plays. Yellow fruits swelling.

As it plays, I pray for rhythm. Small steps towards my desire.


Gas collects. Blinding and screaming. A star is born. Temples are built. Kings arise. Hands grasping bronze tools. Fresh lungs are forming, ready to breathe in fresh air. Drums begin to play. Green leaves unfolding.

The rhythm plays loud. My slow walk, turns into a sprint.


Stars exploding. Gold rains from the heavens. Bronze weapons striking their brothers. Great monuments are risen. A hand and a foot takes form. A story is told, one of seven. Teal liquid flows from open throats.

Even in destruction, I see their creation. There is another pursuer. Time is running out.


Planets take form. Dry and cold. Slowly they circle their master. Arrows fly from the castle. Steel swords striking their brothers. A head is formed, ready to expand. Great paintings are made, to awe their beholder. Blue tears flow from tired eyes.

Through bloodshed, they create their stories. Yet I am nothing short of anxious. Will I find the courage to reach out to the unknown.


Long arms through endless darkness. Galaxies are born. Explosions and firearms. 117 million souls gone. The ground shakes as a mushroom and a perfect body is formed. Birthed into an unsuspecting world. Screens flickering, perceived by exciting eyes. A purple crown is placed on a head.

It seems to be the darkest hour. What will happen next. A vulture flies off and I am alone with whom I desire.


Unending and without form, it continues to expand. Full of possibilities the universe is born. Creation and curiosity strikes the dying world. They seek towards the sky. Spiralling into the unknown. Three eyes opens on a smiling face. The orchestre crescendos. The mind opens, making space for nirvana.

Finally at peace and at rest. We merge together. There is no longer you and me, there is only us.


One day left everyone.

It looks like this prompt wasn’t quite as well received as the last one. Since I’ve had questions about it, I would like to make it clear the idea is to be ironic with it. The concept of love isn’t actually like a fighter aircraft, but my absurd poem found connections where there should have been none.

Also, since I’ve had questions about this as well, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WRITE A POEM. Write prose if you want. Write stream of consciousness craziness if you want. There’s no need for a rhyme scheme or stanzas or anything.

1 Like

you should do an easier one next time. also i am not good at poems so i cant do this.

I hoped that would make it clear enough.

1 Like

but i cant write a poem.

Alrighty, folks. Time to conclude and discontinue this outpouring of strange love as we wrap up this contest and decide who gets to wear the crown as King of Writing Things.

While it wasn’t quite as highly attended (my bad, I think the prompt was perhaps a bit too restrictive and obscure) this contest still bore impressive fruit. I had a lot of fun reading the three entries I did receive, and it’s looking really rather difficult to pick a winner.

I think I’ll get my thoughts on each entry down before I decide.

@OmnipotentFNarr has once again graced us with surrealism verging on mania. I don’t know what inspired him to write about a babysitter pliosaur that inexplicably melts, but whatever it is, I’d rather not find out. At least we all learnt ‘not to trust a faery into keeping the party fun’, which I’m sure is a very useful lesson for everyone.

I think I’ll let a magical liopleurodon give his opinion.

Meanwhile, @Magic8Ball04 compared the deadliest disease in all of human history to malaria.


I particularly liked lines such as ‘Those who are diagnosed with my love are uncoincidentally unlucky and should seek help’ and ‘Clindamycin should be taken in large doses in any case where you have caught my love without hesitation’. Really, these are incredibly practical pieces of advice for anyone besotten. Magic8Ball04 truly captured the spirit of the task with his absurdist analogies.

And, well, @Naggorath. What can I say about Naggorath?

As a mathematics student, I obviously swoon at the mention of Fibonacci numbers, so points for playing to the judge there. But it’s the cascade of hyper-intense lyrical landscapes around the creeping number scale that really brings this piece to life. ‘Planets take form. Dry and cold. Slowly they circle their master.’ That wouldn’t be out of place in actual published poetry.

Although, if I’m being honest, I do kind of struggle to see what exactly ties all these parts - love, the golden ratio, the entire universe - together. The prompt seems to have been swallowed up by all the cosmic congealing, unless I’m not reading into it in the right way. Still very impressive.

So, the ultimate question: whom do I love most?

As much as the mental image of a fantastical disintegrating liopleurodon took me for a ride, the sheer amount of bare writing effort put in by @Naggorath means he is this contest’s winner. Turns out there is no greater analogy for love than a fundamental constant of the universe…that people keep claiming to have found in places it has nothing to do with…hmm…

I think I’ll return to the previous prompt next time as people seemed to enjoy that more. Thanks so much to those who did enter this time, you should be proud.

Until next time…


Not to nag but that is why I am here. When will the next one be?

Well, I guess mine was too “ironic” to be posted in this thread, lol. @Oliveriver knows what I’m talking about, right @Oliveriver?

1 Like

thanks man. I am looking forward to the next one