Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

March 21, 2018, 09:30:47 PM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 13
1  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / diary on: March 20, 2018, 12:32:10 PM
Late afternoon light spills in from beyond the curling juniper tree. Shadows dance along my desk, making patterns on the wood grain my eyes dilate as they adjust the dim-lit room. Old journals sit piled up like records. The pulpy smell of dated paper hangs in the room, spines with creases that creak when you open them. I take a peek into my youth. High school auditorium, cold linoleum floor, loud chatter echoing off the high ceiling the warm soft hand of my girlfriend folded in mine. Feelings come flooding back. Paper plates loaded with lasagna, mouth messy I look around for a place to sit. Hard lonely fold-out table my breathes are short and spurted, school books hang in my back back hard against my skin the air is stiffling--     
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Hammock on: March 19, 2018, 03:12:17 PM
I sit on damp steps, palms resting on the cold concrete. The day is a swirl of colors and heat. The hammock hangs between the orange trees rocking back and forth like a ship on stormy seas the breeze wipes away at my sweat the taste of metallic air lifts my lips slightly apart I swallow in dry gulps. I remember lazily playing on the hammock, spinning faster faster fast fingers fastened around the woven rope fibers, vertigo and the world spins as the whole thing flips. The ground punches my back I black out, eyes going hazy, smelling the earthy grass and moldy oranges the chain looking ominous above me I make groaning noises and get up. All in good fun.       
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / String on: February 26, 2018, 04:42:04 PM
I sit low, rubbing my baggy eyes with bony hands. Numbers glow from the screen, I stare and work until my mind is seeing in binary, words become string theory, conversations of jet propulsion and Higgs Boson. Cracked leather compressed beneath my butt, swivel chair, one wheel sticking to the laminated flooring, rain falls, pushing puddles down the empty street. I tug at my beanie, loose thread sticking out I pull at it, breathe minty, covering the dank sweaty room, taste of papers and film of disturbed dust. Soon lunch will wake up my senses, salty crackers and meat covered in fake cheese, washed down with warm coffee. The day seems to--   
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Life Jacket on: February 23, 2018, 01:32:47 PM
I feel squeamish. Insides want out as solid ground bobs and waves like my hand stuck outside a car window against the wind. The ocean is deep blue, an abyss of movement. My eyes water against the sea breeze, flexible scratchy life jacket strapped snug around my chest. My face absorbs more sun, slowly turning from a light pink to a dark red. The waves hit against the side of the boat's hull in inconsistent thuds, salt water fills my nostrils. Dry land is a distant speck, floating away. Sand, stability, hard streets an afterthought my breathes come in little waves as I look down, hands grip the hot metal railing, flakes of paint scratched off...
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Spy on: February 12, 2018, 02:19:00 PM
I sit soaking in the milky sun. Metal cafe seat firm and cool against my legs. Sunglasses and fedora cover my face, leaving me stuffy. I wait for a signal, squinting into the high rise window across the sticky traffic, hands fidgety on the tiles of the tabletop. Aware of the item holstered to my hip, I realize that this is way different from the Spy movies I grew up watching. They don't show the fear, the hidden smell of danger, that covers my skin. No epic explosions have caused me to barely escape, no tanned women with ulterior motives, just a  waiting game, waiting for information to come knocking. The smell of sweet cream and chocolate swirls in the air, light banter and my contained breathing. Whistles from meandering locals, dry steam rises from the heating street. The glint tells me to go--   
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / goosebumps on: January 30, 2018, 02:16:07 PM
Red hair, strawberry blonde sticking every which way like an abstract art piece. Body craned, hunchback in the soft flashlit room, night air gets cold, shadows creep and crawl around. Lips frigid and dried pages turn and the story comes alive on the eggshell walls, monsters in my mind come out to play. Fingers gripped around R.L. Stine's paperback a dog howls in the distance...At school breakfast I slowly slurp soggy cheerios, friends excitedly discuss the series. Nightmares still remain and I walk away, goosebumps crawling down my spine. Legs like--   
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Zoo on: January 24, 2018, 01:39:11 PM
My siblings and I. running around in socks through the living room, belly flops onto couch cushions my breathe squirts out from my bony chest. Squeals of prepubescent laughter, arguments, voices filling the entire house "It's a zoo around here" my mom, standing wearily with hands on hips, hair falling into her sky blue eyes fists covered in soapy water.
"It's a zoo" I think back to our birthday, watching lizards chasing the peacocks, tempting a monkey with my sandwich...too close he grabs my arm, tries to pull me in with black leathery hands I cry in alarm. Watching the white tiger going at a chunk of meat, smell pungent, teeth like icicles it pulls strips of fat and muscle and my stomach feels queasy. Sunburn and--   
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / spotlight on: January 24, 2018, 12:17:30 AM
breathes are slivers, clothes are sour grapes she clutches her guitar, feeling the jagged chip in back of the neck, she was drunk then and careless. Now she's neither, faces blur under the seemingly burning spotlight, fingers become earthquakes, her bones are stiff. The chorus hits, full force she lets words melt out of her throat, tension leaves the building, she sighs sweet teary-eyed relief, she hears clapping. Her chap stick feels warm and sweet on her lips, the room seems to cool down. She's back at home in her room, dim lights and a slight scent of dusty records and citrus, arms draped over her bed as she carelessly lets lyrics flow from her tiny diaphragm. The day is mild and grey-beige, syrupy, coffee still lingering on tastebuds from breakfast   
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Ice Pack on: January 22, 2018, 06:29:06 PM
I remember hot summers, hiding in the shade under cover of the patched up porch. My eyes stung when I looked at the sun, headache eased by dr pepper and pressing ice packs to my radiating skin, head in the freezer. It smelled like dried fish and frozen soup, little beards of ice forming on the walls. Sprinklers would keep us entertained for hours. run, dodge, avoid the steady motion of water, jumping over it, getting closer and closer, being soaked to the bone by the end. Cars would drive lazily by, thump over the potholes the dogs would chase them, try to bite. No Patches! I'd scream, knowing it was no use. Sometimes I'd run after the cars too, pretending I was faster than them, feet skipping off the 100 degree pavement.   
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Donkey on: January 15, 2018, 02:58:27 PM
Long patchy road, choked by black lava fields for miles. The wind whips in through the inch of open window, whistling, playing with my hair. Out in the rocks stray animals move, tough skin hardened from the relentless sun, yellow patches of brave grass coming out of cracks and fissures. Hunger pangs as I hit traffic and slow to a sudden standstill. Donkey crossing tells me I'm close, landscaped grass and brown condos giving civilization to this barren stretch. My hands are stiff, knuckles holding the steering wheel taste of ocean salt slips in and mingles with the ac. The work day starts soon, collared shirt and chink of the time card, sunscreen saves my fair skin from turning blistery.   
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Computer on: January 12, 2018, 12:48:46 PM
I lay in bed, neck arched over pillows, back twisted to view the screen.
My thoughts are somewhere in between
Daylight comes in through the the curtains
warm on my arm, metal on my cold skin
Smell of week-old sheets and Costco chimichungas
Greasy face, hair matted on my head, hands folded under
The rest of the house is quiet, haunting
No one to talk to, yell at, drink a cup of coffee
Night comes suddenly
The cold of the air cutting me out of another dream
another reality...
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / paintbrush on: January 11, 2018, 12:23:44 AM
Smears along the drywall, hands speckled with bright color it seeps between the hairs, smell of creamed milk and chemicals, acidic tinge in the back o his throat he wipes his bangs aside and grips the wooden brush. Barely used muscles groan and become tight, knots under his shoulder, blade the bristles make a satisfying swish against the new sheetrock, bristles from a loud dusty manufacturing plant in Tuscaloosa full of assembly lines and humid sweat-drenched workers and bright halogen lights. Or maybe China.
His stomach starts to grumble, fumes collecting in his breath make him feel light-headed. The paint cleaner bubbles and yellow field swims off the bristles, color--   
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Deck on: January 08, 2018, 12:53:45 PM
I walk up wobbly stairs, rotten and grey. A trail of ants snakes along the railings, all going somewhere, maybe a fallen cookie crumb, a sugar spill. The view from the porch is like a Rembrandt painting, everything as I remember it with the blue hues and green-brown tree tops bristling in the breeze. I meet the wind, eyes watering and hair tossing too and fro like that scene on Titanic. The boards creak under me, paint peeling like sunburned skin. Soon I'll be back on steady ground, concrete or composite. Now I cling to this unsure footing, basking in it, hand reaching for support. The taste of Spring and humidity covers me, day dying down into a dusky dream.     
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cabinet on: January 03, 2018, 02:48:26 PM
Sitting in the swivel chair-the one with the broken wheel- my back arches stiff and in bad posture. Grey light makes the office feel sleepy, my eyes weigh heavy like I've had too much cabernet. The taste of paper pulp and sour air I get up to stretch & put a folder in the cabinet. The wood stain like tiger's eye smooth as a glass of bourbon I open a window, letting the room ventilate. Last night comes back in spurts of hungover memory, lying on the cold floor of my kitchen...hurling white alcoholic vomit into the toilet, clinging to the porcelain.... Alarm clock ringing at 5:30 in the next room. The papers on my desk start to blur as my head pounds. Getting drunk is never like the movies.     
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Duffle Bag on: January 02, 2018, 03:23:13 PM
My hands clutch at fabric strap, I blink in the hazy light and inhale the noisy exhaust of the plane. Long line shortens, I glance at my phone too many times. The engine hums, blast of ac dries out my throat when I finally sit, stranded in this hunk of aerodynamic metal. My shoulder sags and throbs from the weight of the duffle bag, my heart pounds with the weight of my future. Outside the familiar buildings, roads, trees, fields all become a distant thought. My teeth crunch salty pretzels. I imagine my duffel bag, squeezed into the tiny space above my head, in a dark space full of strangers. Like me at a night club. It's amazing the human capacity to adapt to new things. It takes a lot for me to adapt, like my brain needs to be reassured that changes won't make the world end. Deep breathes. Small--
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