Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

May 22, 2018, 01:18:12 AM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti

Saturday-Homesick



Word of the Day
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Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 13
1  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / alter on: May 18, 2018, 01:38:34 PM
I squirm in the rigid pew, bony spine painfully pushing against the laminated pine. Low lights, sun streaks in to form shadows on the alter that dance and distract me from the man with the microphone. soft flaky pages of the Holy Bible, old English smell of pulp and old things an oddly shaped vase of flowers droops from the front stage a dog barks from somewhere down the Sunday street soft piano notes draw me back in, words like rising planes crescendo in perfect dynamics afterwards I'll sit and eat lasagna and drink watery lemonade and glazing cinnamon rolls, talk to people I barely know. Sweat will form on my temple as I try to create small talk in awkward bursts. I look at the alter again, it's wood-carved decadence looking down in chiseled splendor. Man-made art. I gulp hard about the socializing. God help me.   
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / brownie on: May 16, 2018, 10:48:31 AM
Back arched lazily over the white wooden dining table, scratched and worn from the years. Brownie crumbs dropping missing my plate moist chocolate chips melt on my teeth, I wipe my face and smear it off my lips. The scent of fresh ghiridelli mix my sister with oven mitts on, telling me not to open the oven door I'll let the heat out. I do anyway, wave of 400 degrees washing over my flushed face. The room is warm and heavy my eyes begin to sink shut. I put my face on the hard table top, still cold from the morning chill, soothing my feverish forehead I drift, bright monotonous timer bringing me out of daydreams and into the present. My skin feels dry and taught, the--     
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / bronco on: May 15, 2018, 11:21:53 AM
Salty ocean breeze whips my hair into a frenzy. Windshield caked in layers of dust car the truck and bumps, a bronco trying to be rid of us. I spill my drink on the seat, fizzy liquid bubbles then disappears into the coarse cushioning leaving a darker blue stain. A bead of sweat trickles down my back, I feel a slight chill your driving causes me to grip the hand hold, smooth surface rocks back and forth, the winding gravel seems endless as we twist and swerve. I lick my lips, slightly sea-salty, tongue running over cracks and splits. Guns N' Roses joins us in treble-rich tones, high cutting vocals of 'Sweet Child' swimming in and out of my ears--       
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / padlock on: May 03, 2018, 12:01:40 PM
He sits at a warm kitchen table. Stubbly chin, pajamas, squeezing out the last of the yawns.
Outside, heatwaves. Long scraggly blades of grass, mowers echoing down the street.
Smell of engine oil and gasoline, swallowing soggy breakfast cereal and excuses.
He walks outside, barefeet tender on the choppy ground, feet picking up pebbles and leaves.
Shed door. Trying to remember the padlock combo. Numbers numbers numbers he slide his fat fingers across the dial.
10 minutes. The click as the lock opens. Dusky dark, bare light bulb flickers above.
Brushing off cobwebs, a jump as the spider--
Time to join the neighbors. Summer is here early. 
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Potion on: April 30, 2018, 08:22:16 PM
The boats rock slowly over glassy water, eyes adjusting to the dimlit sky we sit bare legs dangling over the wooden dock, sipping tea and eating coffee cake, your arm is cool as it grazes mine and sends a jolt of excitement up into my face. Harry Potter may have some strong potions but the way you work your magic gets me very time, your perfume fills my senses, a sweet vanilla wave. Cheesy lines, pheromones and nervous glances I play with my fingernails, grimy from work, soft breeze pushes our hair back my eyes water but I'm not crying. This is bliss, struck by cupids arrow right in the beating chest, the last of the sunlight climbs down below the horizon. 
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Spy on: April 12, 2018, 11:33:59 PM
Flakes of wall peeling off, brown under the eggshell white. Humid air makes the ends of my hair curl up gulps of oxygen the fruit flies silently do crazy eights around the dirty dishes. Hiding in the closet, stuffy tweed and ruffled dresses pressed in around me, senses spiking as I hear "100! Read or not...." my lips hold down a stifled breath I'm wearing yellow like Harriet and my sister's are noisy like Rosy O' Donald the smell of must and old paint eats at me the suspense builds then drops until my breathing becomes bored. White ankle, exposed to the light, secret messages of chalk on the charcoal roadway, signals of dust and bird noises we were products of too many espionage thrillers I sneak a mission to grab the box of girl scout cookies, mint chocolate luring me in like a pig to scraps the feel of coarse cardboard and my finger slides across the seal to open it, guilt suppressed by---
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Tulips on: April 10, 2018, 12:16:19 PM
Long black stretch of blacktop whirls under our wheels. The air smells like rain and spring. The tulips paint the ground in shades of pink, yellow, white, red, purple with names like English Rosebush red and Tahiti white. My mind takes in the sensory overload, then I see her walking, taking pictures, herself more breathtaking than the flowers. I picture us in a candlelight dinner, her hand brushing mine in the ambient glow as we sit on soft carven chairs. A single tulip tilts from a bud vase and Marvin Gaye fills in the background. My heart is raising in it's chest....I trip over a rock and drop my camera, lens caked in mud. She giggles, pretending she didn't see it. My hopelessly romantic eyes close and I catch myself thinking about her through the day, over grilled cheese and steaming soup.
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / padlock on: April 03, 2018, 11:11:04 AM
Summer shows through the edges of spring, air bright and crisp. His heartbeat is loud and fast, right hand wrapped closely around the faded old page. The distant din of crickets and a dog's bark the only soundtrack besides the snap of branches and crush of grass on the path. Back in his city home he'd be getting ready for another lecture, standing in front of an led-lit mirror, adjusting his looks of excitement and his tie. This search has brought him away from the normal, the routine, into a rented jeep and across 45 miles of barren highway, to this land of possibility, where animals are the only breathing thing for miles. So he thinks. The shovel in his left hand shakes a little as he reaches the spot, red face flashing a smile of excitement. He pierces the earth, digging until his muscles become stiff. The day fades until he---
9  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--     
10  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.       
11  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--   
12  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...
13  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--   
14  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--   
15  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--   
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