Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

January 17, 2019, 03:36:07 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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1  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / key on: January 08, 2019, 07:38:40 PM
I remember driving for the first time. Hands shaky on the steering wheel breath in short excited gasps I turn the key, sputter of the Honda engine it comes to life. Nerves tickle my insides as I take it out of park, rolling over fallen oranges in the driveway the scent of citrus the air freckled with fruit flies. I check the mirrors, hairs on the back of my neck standing up, a car speeds by I push the brake too hard and jolt forward dad chuckles. Fences line the road, like magnets daring me to steer straight the asphalt steams as the sun cleans up puddles left over from last nights downpour. My face is flushed with concentration, cemetery walls on the right, brick crumbling and reminding me of how close to death I came, almost joining my sister, alone in the heap of twisted metal and hot blood sliding, glass in my throat. Now I slow down and turn back into the driveway, maiden voyage sisters waiting in the yard--   
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / flag on: January 07, 2019, 06:19:17 PM
Running barefoot, toes catching on ingrown grass, feet cold, pant cuffs wet. Night shadows the ground, trees like statues pose. Taste of smoke, Ohia wood I hide. The flag is being guarded closely, red paisley bandanna visible behind warm bodies. A tap on my shoulder I inhale sharply, but it's my teammate. We make a run for it, wind ricocheting off my face I reach, reach arm like a torch at the Olympics. roots stick out and trip me, twist away torso like gumbi I got it, now breathless strides until safe inside our imaginary border line. Slaps on the back and hollers that echo through the night my fingers cling to the trophy like claws. Memories...riding in the back of dad's Toyota pickup, waving our hands against the air, hair flying--

**Is it just me or are the words repeating more frequently?**   
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / radiator on: January 03, 2019, 05:37:48 PM
I open the hood, smoke spirals out. Green luminescent fluid, alien blood it puddles at my feet. oh sh*t I say, grabbing the cap to open it my hand immediately jerks away, blister a red bubble. Cars barrel by leaving me with the taste of exhaust air. Scavenging in a junk yard, rats peep out of old tires and rust colored axles. Scent of oil ripe on the ground I see a honda civic. hood bent unnaturally, as if this car is a contortionist I look under it for a radiator. It's partially there, a fan broken off, grill like an etch-a-sketch my eyes gloss over, hands fumble with sockets and bolts--   
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / fish on: January 02, 2019, 07:26:52 PM
Summer. I jump in from the jagged rocks, feet springing off like a pogo stick. Weightless, I feel a rush of blood to my brain. arms pointed out, stretching overhead. The smell of salt and fragrant sunblock, my skin is greasy. This sunscreen is natural, no oxybenzone rubbing off and floating down to damage pink and orange and white coral reefs. It also doesn't rub in. My face shiny like a fresh painted wood fence. Forward motion carries me into the rippling blue I shoot down, eyes blurry and push up to catch some breath. Fish, bright and visible under the layers of water if swims at an angle, as if being pulled along.   
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / daisy on: December 28, 2018, 08:26:51 PM
The field stretches out beyond sight, as if proving flat earthers right. His gloved hands are shaking with muscles spasms, dirt streaked across his sleeves. After the harvest there will be nothing but dying roots and bright earth; all the flowers sliced at the neck and put into coolers that maintain a brisk 58 degrees. Packed in cardboard, handled with careless hands and shipped across long salty ocean stretches to be bought for dinner ambiance with rosť and made into boutonnieres, pricked into the chest of a tuxedo. He watches the flowers tilt lazily in the breeze. Violets, daisies, carnations, ranunculus, colors popping like art on a canvas. Sitting on the cooler he bites into his homemade burrito, fleshy tortilla cold from the ice, beans oozing out, some drop on the ground. The ground, full of life and---   
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / String on: December 27, 2018, 06:10:38 PM
The cat sits staring at the string dangling in front of it. Pendulum eyes follow the movement with intense unblinking focus, claws extracted, like Wolverine ready to fight an evil mutant. My mom's yarn, pulled out and snaking along the carpet, an unmade beanie to keep someones ears warm. String hiding inside rotisserie chicken, pithy and tough in my mouth I spit it out, saliva pooling on the side of my plate my sister laughs. In the muggy classroom the teacher scratches chalk on the chalkboard, white dust particles flying we talk about things like string theory. My theory is that it's useless. Give me words, ripe, alive, and easy to pick, not some abstract formulas. Formica desk tops scratched with initials and laminated over glossy --   
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / sidewalk on: December 26, 2018, 04:34:58 AM
Windows drown the morning in light, halo of heat hitting my cheeks I turn red. Sour fingers stiff from fretting strings, bent at awkward angles. The room breathes of bleach fumes and strawberry tart, together nauseating. I put on slippers, walk down creaking steps, watching for crab spiders strung across the beams like living Christmas ornaments, webs stick like silly string on my forehead. The hardened cement, grey-ish and thick, immovable, except with jackhammers, I remember breaking up a basketball court, arms vibrating heavily till my teeth chattered, rapid hammering bleeding through my earplugs, muscles tensed, shut like clams.  The sidewalk only goes ten feet, then drops to dirty grass, tire marks tattooed on then ground. 
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / chimney on: December 24, 2018, 06:56:17 PM
Soft glow, warmth fills the house. We sit dreary-eyed, wrapping paper cut in pieces and tape stuck to our fingers. Cinnamon candle the flame flickers happily. Chimney, bricks stacked neatly on each other, filled in with cement, soot stains the inside as smoke rises up and out into the night. The coal burns slowly, smelling of rubber and melting rock. Cookies for Santa I steal one more, sugar crystals melt on my tongue, butter and crumbly goodness I'll regret tomorrow. Stockings sag like raindrops on the mantel, like pack mules with too much weight on them. Shoulders stiff and sore, fingers fumbling with clumsy movements. Give me a wrench, I'll fix something. Tape and nice artistic wrapping doesn't suit me.
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / card on: December 22, 2018, 05:30:07 PM
*5 minutes*

Swivel chair, faded cushion I sit under a light bulb. Smell of Christmas berry and orange oil, chocolate in my mouth, foil wrapper crunching crisp in my hand I ball it up. Chocolate melts onto my tongue, peppermint dark it fills my senses, I open the card. Yellow envelope bent at the corner, my eyes take in the seasons greetings, blue--   
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / sailboat on: December 20, 2018, 07:10:48 PM
Crisp air closes out the day. I wait by the docks in warm wool and long socks, wind tickling my tiny neck hairs, goose bumps make me shiver. Water splashes against the sailboats, salty planks covered in varnish and tar still they begin to rot in places. Freckles of buoys dot the harbor, small restaurant packed, smell of tuna, raw and overwhelming the sound of silverware clinking on plates I scrape my feet absentmindedly, fishermen with weather-worn faces and thick messy beards, muscle-bound and heading home after a long day out. The water, looking back at me in-- 
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / spoon on: December 19, 2018, 02:29:21 AM
Family dinner, scents of candle wax and spruce weave through short tempers and bad puns. I slice through my turkey, knife scraping on the plate makes me shiver. Large spoon full of cranberry sauce, luminescent it looks like jello or a type of magenta paint. My eyes water from onions in the salad, onions plucked from the dark ground, washed and dried, peeled back and chopped into slivers, skin discarded, made into compost with coffee grounds and eggshells. I lean back in my chair, carved back making markings in the skin of my shoulder blades,  Phillip barks suddenly outside mom jumps in her seat and we try not to laugh. Bright colors create a canvas on the long table, something observed from above as an abstract work of art. My pants bulge and I slide lazily onto the couch, embracing a pillow and the tryptophan dad chases Izzy around the couch in my periphery the night drifts-- 
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Poster on: December 18, 2018, 03:33:18 AM
Dusty storm drain, a bowl below the highway, full of old dumped forgotten things. Rusty shopping cart, metal turning sandpaper red, smell of moldy clothes, glitter of broken bottles, he sits and rummages, bony hands full of motion and survival.  He picks up the remnants of a poster floating in a oil-colored puddle. Rockers look animated, lights hitting their sweaty bodies, bold heavy metal letters telling about the rock show 6 months ago, tape on the corner stuck to itself. He sees himself to the left, behind the drum set, hair wild, eyes dark with shadow, drunken stupor on his face his hands gripping the sticks they fly invisible like ghosts barely captured by the shutter. He spits on it now then tosses it into his pile. 
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / desk on: December 15, 2018, 05:31:31 PM
Still air. Her collar feels tight around the gills, hands glued to a computer screen her vision blurs. Smell of cleaning products, bright lights illuminate off her co worker's balding forehead, her desk is smooth and sturdy, grains and knots all laminated in a clear coat her fingers glide across. The clock seems to seize up. Angry voices ramp out of phone ear pieces, she gives sympathizing --

Jogging out in the fresh sunny early hours, feet tapping the blue stepping stone path, lungs fill with freedom. Wild animals scurry for cover, taste of juniper and coffee on her breath the world is mostly still asleep, a few other dawn joggers, breathing out cold and sipping lattes or pushing strollers. dry hands, mouth paper she licks her lips and sucks in the violet-scented air.

14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Roller Coaster on: December 13, 2018, 06:33:49 PM
Suit pressed, hair slicked back and combed through (after some painful tugging), I stop in the florist, smelling the fragrance, unsure what to buy. Colors collide and pop like a sunset, leaving me overwhelmed the florist recommends roses I have them wrapped in cellophane. Hands tapping nervously on the steering wheel, practicing my smile in the mirror. The truck smells musty I should've cleaned it. She opens her door and our eyes find each other. Calm, excited, drowning. So many things. Her fragrance, beauty overwhelms the dingy truck.
Stomach full of Tortellini and olive oil chicken dessert comes I feel out of sorts, small talk worn out I can't keep up. Nerves kick in again, I pick up my glass to drink. It's empty. Still. Admiring the paintings on the wall I avert my eyes in passive nonchalance, forgetting to breathe, her hair falls slightly over her face. Love is such a roller coaster.   
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / baseball hat on: December 11, 2018, 08:04:18 PM
Old field, red cinder dirt streaked across my pant legs. Momentum of the bat carries into the fastball. A crack. All eyes rise into the glaring sun I run, lungs burning like smoke legs clenched into hardened clay I run...Baseball hat covers my fair skin from the UV rays, lemonade cold as it hits my bloodstream, cleats scrape on the pavement, food and celebrating even though we lost 9-1. Tag I chase my teammate in circles, head mad with dizziness... Listening to major league, imagination active as commentators get excited over am frequencies static slides in and out as we drive, wind whipping against the truck,     
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