Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

July 20, 2019, 09:46:33 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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286  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Button on: January 05, 2016, 07:27:10 PM
I move my hand nervously down my coat, fingers hitting over all the buttons like speed bumps. I wait. The claustrophobic air tastes like pine sol and recycled air My legs tremble, feet tapping to some unknown rhythmic tic in my head, or maybe just finding something to do to distract me. I suddenly feel like my throat is made of sand. passing conversations converge on me and phase left to right like surround sound, strong cologne almost steaming off a middle-aged man as he walks by with a brief smile plastered on. Finally the woman I am waiting for rushes in. Seconds tick in slow motion. I have way too much time to think right now, all all my thoughts are full of glum outcomes. I really need this....   
287  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Sage on: December 04, 2015, 04:53:36 PM
I count down backwards through my memories, a stubborn gaze falls over me as I blink them in, Holidays at mom and dad's, tiptoeing over cold bamboo floor on Christmas Eve until CREEAAK-that stupid groove always creaks-and I retreat to my cotton sheets, only to try again later, 7-year-old impatience growing by the minute. After presents we sit there basking like walruses in our gifted glory until mom calls us to the delicious smell of the kitchen, sage and other spices mingling with the sweet atmospheric smell of glazed ham. My mouth waters, stomach churning and bliss as I bite in, startled as my mother pushes my bony elbows off the glass table and gives me a stern look.   
288  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cone on: November 28, 2015, 06:31:48 PM
I grip the hard steering wheel till my knuckles turn snowy, chest tight and intently focusing on the peppery asphalt ahead. My armpits turn sour with sweat and I try to breathe, burst of air escaping my nose in spurts like old faithful, taste of metal on my mouth. I see the cone; bright and reflective, an orange top hat that I am to avoid at all costs, tar and stale a.c. fog my head as I step from the gas to the brake pedal, swerving like a madman, narrowly missing the erect shape as Miss Saunders gives me a stern look and pushes the brake on her side. I hate drivers Ed.     
289  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Barber on: November 24, 2015, 04:46:46 PM
Grey-brown tufts of hair drop down to the grounds like snowflakes, hitting silently on the feet of the man in the cold metal swivel chair. He stares straight ahead, taking in his metamorphosis as cold scissors prick around his ears and they tingle, smell of tea tree oil and scented foam fills his breath, hands tentative at his side, squeezing open and closed as the buzzer takes another pass and chops the locks that were nipping at his shoulders. His throat feels suddenly dry, and he wonders if this is what Samson felt like when Delilah betrayed him, strength leaving him with every falling strand. But this is a new day, and sometimes change is a beautiful song to sing. So he does his best to hum along.   
290  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Ambulance on: October 21, 2015, 05:02:05 PM
Splash of wheels over wet concrete, bumpy bumpy ride, I panic as we turn sharply and I lay helpless and strapped to
the cold hard stretcher. Ammonia and I.V. fluid drip, sirens cut, pierce with shrill cries. Taste metal, like I'm sucking on a gum wrapper words are exchanged above me through breathing masks, heavy breath, light like the sun and the stars, a bird incubator
291  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Sapling on: October 19, 2015, 04:02:51 PM
I kick through squishy  brush, my boots caking with mud and crunch pop as they knock down saplings. Fresh air tickles my face and exposed hands, thoughts dim, drift like clouds fog walks by me like ghosts, lost souls scouring the earth. Taste of humidity and mint chewing through the path, knocking wind and surprise
292  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Squid on: September 22, 2015, 03:53:56 PM
Hot summer, feet squishy in the sand, heavy like blankets are covering my legs as I step over the surging current. Scent of sugary Malasadas and strawberry Shave Ice, brain freeze from eating to fast. I love certain local foods here,  but others, like dried squid, make me gag. The blank water calms my nerves escape and forgetting the bad taste of my current reality I smile at nothing in particular. Golden bodies saunter by, goddesses and tritons and me and my fair freckles. A contrast of applus and oranges. I used to want the oranges, but now I'm okay
293  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Egypt on: September 12, 2015, 03:32:56 PM
I remember driving through the big city for the first time, bleary-eyed, rush of buildings, shapes, amplified colors making my heart tick faster, Smoking billows rise from pipes and cigarettes and I feel high off second-hand fumes. Tension fills my neck, I wonder if The Isrealites felt this when they got to Egypt, Darker skin and pyramids and domination. My cheeks flush, nervous excitement and wonder filling them. Tar, hazelnut coffee, stink of rotting buildings being tore down. Out with the old and in with the modern. Dry hands rub together, chapped like cowboy lips
294  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cape on: September 10, 2015, 03:38:29 PM
I walk through the cold, legs like seized engines, dogs bark loudly through the dull mist. Red lines of light flash, solar flares, cars braking in the shallow visibility Shouting and puddles pushing away from angry tires, numbing cold and I begin to retreat into fantasy, think I'm immune to cold, to the pain shooting up over my finger nails, immune to broken hearts and weather. I wear a cape, it waves in epic fashion behind me, I breathe in icy pangs through my nostrils. Hot bread steaming and spices and ginger through the storefront, blackened peaks and my fantasy slows to a halt. 
295  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Crystal Ball on: September 09, 2015, 04:00:27 PM
My clock ticks, green flashing lights reflect off the oven. Swoops of air hit against the pane, I stare. My eyes blink at the worn college-bound, sea-blue lines encapsulate my interest, I will the words from me, trying to see them, trying to read my own mind like a crystal ball. Daydreams seep through. Pizza and swimming in the lake, cold body shocked into excitement, and I wish I could capture that. My hands are tense, and I open them, swing my fingers on their hinges until they loosen up. I think of her soft skin, her porcelain eyes and her lightly condescending smile. Sitting with our legs dangling off the pier like those sneakers that you sometimes see on the telephone wires. I shudder and think of my nervous talk. My inspiration well is dry, but I've still got memories, and maybe the past can inspire my future.
296  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / paradise on: September 07, 2015, 02:44:09 PM
Little house, paint chipping away like sunburnt skin and moss forming in green blobs down the slant of roof. He clutches the shiny new brass key, cold on his wrinkling fingers. Taste of cedar lingers in the room and it smells like a forest. A sleeping fire lays in the corner like a loyal dog, ready to run, his eyes well up as he collapses into a rigid chair, tears of joy evaporating down his weathered face. This may not be much to most, but to him, it's paradise.
297  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Gorilla on: September 04, 2015, 03:17:35 PM
Grey-black brushy skin matted and unwashed like dreadlocks. Ripe eyes look at me, into me, in an animal language I relate to but don't understand. power washed cement ridges under my feet and I touch the cage, smell of fresh dung and sun-scorched metal I sigh. I feel caged sometimes at work, trapped under stacks of paperwork and air conditioning and empty meaningless conversation. Stagnant looks of expectancy and ladder-climbing. I feel a surge of surge of surprise as the gorilla grabs my finger through the diamond bars. my lip curls with sweat as I try to stay calm. He looks at me with hungry, almost sad eyes and I feel bad that I have nothing to offer. I think suddenly have an epiphany and pull the banana out of my...
298  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Granite on: September 01, 2015, 04:08:34 PM
I breathe in the cold morning, air rising from my lungs and disappearing as it finds daylight. Thoughts blur and tangle like crossed wires, condensation & scratched linoleum cold as granite- like the empty stares I get when I walk through the city. My ears perk up as I hear the fade-in of familiar voice; a low rumble and a song like patter of inaudible words as morning light fades in and peppermint tea slides warmly down my throat, shoulder still pinging with toll of a hard matress, bumpy and a dreamless night & cold,  eat to relieve this bonedry cold, lips dry & scratchy and my hands cup the warm tea like...
299  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Mona Lisa on: August 25, 2015, 08:15:41 PM
Dusty floors and shelves are startled by my footsteps, jagged thump of hard rubber kissing wood as I peer through the particles of empty passion. Doppled sun throws it's light through the big windows and kicked up dust falls like fine snow, almost shimmering and I sneeze, crackled glue and mildew stirring my sensitive nostrils. Barely wheezing I spin a full 360 remembering the glory days; working in here on the sweat-paved novel. This was my Mona
300  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Exclamation on: August 24, 2015, 08:56:33 PM
Sitting on cold metal, slight condensation seeps onto my corduroys, wind wisps my hair across thoughtless tired eyes that wait for the bus to arrive. Teeth chattering and I feel frail, life chipping away at me like this weathered bench. Shadows fade with no exclamation, smell of dank rain water and sweetened coffee, steam rising like little signals fromy the couple next to me, breaths visible and telling as the screech of brakes sound in the distance floating branches move and shake and I am dripped on, startled. 
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