Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

August 21, 2018, 08:42:33 AM
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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 ... 15
1  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cotton Candy on: May 23, 2018, 06:13:26 AM
You made me feel just like a kid again.  Wrapped around your slender red tipped fingers, IBM so sweet on you.  Walking on pink clouds moments before the sun drops low enough to turn the canvas behind into a diamond filled sky.  Laughter from seagulls making lazy figure eights sailing into infinity as if to say we'd be together forever.  Fluffed and puffed with exaggerated gestures I knew you had hit me harder than my sugar pangs.  Sweet and gritty the swirled confection was passed back and forth until we devoured it at the end of the Santa Monica pier.   My hands sticky and ready to explore your soft exterior I waited for the right moment to plant a kiss.  I let the sea air's scent set the mood for fit for a classic 90S movie.  My heart pounded like the waves against the wood of support beams and our tongues swirled and twirled around each other each kiss more sugar coated than the last.   Our whispers disputed into the approaching fog and we walked into the white Ferris wheel lit night.
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / New Orleans on: May 09, 2018, 06:47:51 AM
Drenched in Jazz and neon daiquiri sunsets, the sticky streets are filled with survivors laughing at the eye of the storm.   Bustling cobbled streets spin like horse drawn carriages filled with big brimmed tourists.  Zydeco happy hours ring out like brass and the marble tombs remain overgrown and filled with fighters past.  Not even acts of God can keep us from our celebrations.   The seaside smells musky from swap water rising up like heatwaves from the humid summer night.  We stumble from bar to bar soaking up all the late night music as if we are the only ones in the room.   Drops of condensation run from our drinks and we run form morning.
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Donut on: April 10, 2018, 05:29:49 AM
My cheeks pressed the warm glass exhaling a heat and breathing in the fluffy sugar swirls that danced on the nose and mouth of everyone inside.  Early morning light rolls into the streets now filling with beeps and bumps of a waking city.  The cold that once wrested the night now dissipates into the butte filled flaky circles that will most likely be gone before the hands on the wall read 7am.  My heart speeds up at our steps close in on the register and the tall, humbly dressed Vietnamese man behind the counter.  You can tell he had been up since 3am by the color of the bags he carried under his soft eyes.  i meagerly ask for one dozen donut holes, the man leaves and return with a pink box nearly overflowing with gooey glazed morsels ready to be devoured.  Wash it down with a 12 oz creamy sugar filled milk chocolate and I will be set for the day, bouncing off the walls, but set.  I can feel the sugar coursing through my veins and I vanish into a world where only this meal and I exist.  My hands are sticky, bouncing each ball into my mouth as if sinking free throws I take each one down with a gulp.  A line of people begins uncoiling and wrapping the building like a maple glazed snake ready to attack.  All eyes watch the unmistaken pink rectangle and count each item, wishing it was theirs, but they will have to wait their turn. 
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / New Orleans on: April 08, 2018, 03:39:10 PM
Watching fire rise from the rivers of the Mississippi, we counted memories from the night before trying to piece together the puzzle of our adventurous all night festivities.  The street smells sticky with daiquiris and hot rain as the morning shift hoses down the small french quarter cobbled avenues.   Lost souls wander to the sound of early morning zydeco playing from the tattered speakers of the bars now opening.  A melting pot of dreams, fantasies, turmoil, and lust , we were mixed right into it like a fine made pastry.   We search for anything resembling a coffee shop in hopes of awakening our heavy eyes, bloodshot and now wincing at the rising light.  I can taste all our conversations aroused by never-ending  sweet and sour cocktails.  With the sun directly on top of us, this town is much different in the daytime, the schools of people have dissipated, if only for a few hours, an left the city to repair her broken bones.  We shall return. 
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Sofa on: April 02, 2018, 02:52:53 AM
Stuck, sinking as it pulls me into its warm embrace.  So much to do, yet so little motivation to do it.  Laughing ticking hands around my neck, the clock points to the time flying past me as if to say, you're missing It.   Heavy eyes began to shut against my face like an aromatic lavender sleeping pill.  I'm not tired but the sofa's tempting touch, pillowy and plush holds me down.  Instinctively I sprawl across the four corners of this vinyl canvas spreading my colonies to each outstretching land.  If I'm an explorer of comfort, I'd me Magellan, reaching the new uncharted positions.  The taste of chocolate hits my brain's tastebuds before I even reach for the freezer to grab a cold crunchy frozen dark chocolate bar I've been thinking about throughout the day.  As i relax into a coma like state, my limbs become limp, useless for anymore tasks or errands piling upon my to do list.  It would take a braver man than me to break from the shackles of complacency.  I'm displeased with my satisfaction of this situation.  At least there's always tomorrow.
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Hammock on: March 19, 2018, 09:14:30 PM
Swinging gently on a tropical breeze, we took turns wiping the sand from our toes with each others feet.  Laid out on soft woven , criss crossed string we stared up, through black framed ray bans creating creatures from the clouds.   Sugar laced kisses, sticky with fruit filled cocktails, were placed all over each others faces laughing at our awkward movements.   A seaside paradise , a million miles from any worries or restraints there was no time only the placement of the sun above our browning skin.  Salt caked our bodies, and the rim of our drinks clinking each time we took a sip, a cheers for all that we were grateful for.  Smooth lapping of the waves and warm Atlantic trade wind played a soundtrack I will never forget, drifting in a out of sleep it became hard to know what was real life and what was a dream, but at this point it didn't matter.  Sinking further in the hammock, I memorized each palm frond fanning above us.  Cool ice water dripping from our cups and onto our stomachs before evaporating into the heavens.   The ocean's fragrance and song kept us relaxed and energetic, slowly untying an knots in our stomach created from years of deadlines, self doubt, and pressures of the city. This is where I want to spend the rest of my days, with you, here in this place. 
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Aisle on: March 07, 2018, 04:51:45 AM
Left in the aisles of my mind I wandered aimlessly searching for a familiar face, but I only saw memories, blurry,
that passed coldly through me like an apparition.  Reaching out as to try and grasp the fading recollection, my efforts only drew out my frustrations that have haunted me so many times before.  I recognize that laugh, those murmurs muffled in the other room spilling like light through the crack in the bottom of my bedroom door.   Like shooing away smoke clouds, i shook my head to gain some perspective.  Emptiness so vast I can't help but feel connected to something much bigger than myself.  The corner of my childhood blanket, which reeked of musty laundry detergent and sweat tastes just the way i remember it.  Too big for my bed, I realize I've moved out of yesterday's forts, built by innocence, as sturdy as a house of cards. 
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Doctor on: March 06, 2018, 05:46:51 AM
Cold steel presses against the back of her knee sending shivers up and down her rigid back.  Clenching her jaw tightly, her nervousness causes all of her answers to be short, trembling through her small voice.  She always hated these checkups even though she's had a clean bill of health her whole life.  The thought of terminal illnesses filled her head like a far full of cotton balls. Any second the doctor will return with a diagnoses of a rare incurable disease, she thought.  Seconds tick like a wrecking ball knocking a building to rubble.  Fluorescent lights shine across laminated posters depicting the human body as a science experiment, cold and stale as the sterilized stench wafting in the air.  Her heart pounds faster and faster, until the turn of the knob clicks and the taste of blood from chewing the inside of her cheeks anxiously crescendos, awaiting the words, Looks like everything is fine, I'll see you in a year.Ē   Suddenly, the whole room opens up, she hugs her doctor and floats out of the tiny waiting room.  She is alive to see another day. 
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Checkbook on: March 04, 2018, 06:31:06 PM
I remember watching him every Sunday.  Light would pour into his usually darkly lit office, mounds of dust springing into the air with each shuffling and rustling of yellow lined notepads.  Peering through the crack left in the ajar door I memorized each creak in the floor board as to go unnoticed.  Hunched over his dark stained oak desk, smelling of lacquer and stain, he balanced each ledger and line as if dismantling a bomb about to go off any second.  Sipping on old coffee, burnt to a bitter aftertaste from sitting on the heater all morning he would occasionally glance out the window, giving his strained eyes a break from the tiny lettering.  With the ceiling lowering lowering on him, the sun followed, dropping below the curtain line and eventually into our suburban horizon.  Counting, recounting, he made sure each stroke was precise.  We weren't going to be caught off guard by an un paid bill or misplaced penny.  In a way, this was his meditation, lost in the numbers spilt on the pages of his tiny checkbook.  He has enough carried 1ís to fill a bucket that would have eventually flooded our one story three bedroom home.  I retreated back to my room, where I would start my homework with the same focus.  Lesson learned.
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Dolphin on: March 02, 2018, 06:47:59 PM

She cuts the ocean in two.  Gliding effortlessly through trenches, eddies and trade wind currents she has an all purposeful knowing of where she is going.  Misty mountains protrude from endless depths and fade into a background as silhouettes against a dropping sun.  Life giving scents of schools of tuna dance in a frenzy from her predatory instincts salty and delicious.   Scars paint pictures of past scuffles and close calls, yet she knows no different.  She is perfect in every way.  Grazing the surface for another breath of thick briny sea side air she lets out a high pitch squealing call for her brothers and sisters, now synchronized to capture as much food for the springtime babies learning from their elder counterparts.   Jumping and playing in ancient swells the family swims south to warm waters.   
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Omelet on: February 28, 2018, 04:46:02 PM
Awoken by the enticing and instantly recognizable aroma of breakfast, savory smells cut like light through blinds splashing on my face.  Still warmly wrapped like a burrito, I blink my eyes to make sure I'm not dreaming anymore.  Listing out each ingredient in my mind as I imagine all the flavors being tossed around a perfectly seasoned frying pan.   Spatulas and forks play like music pinging against black metal.   My senses are ready for the day, but my body is still sluggish.  I taught myself until I finally roll over and thud my heavy feet onto the floor.  My eyes set sights on a fluffy steaming folded omelet waiting to be devoured.  Cold utensils become my surgical tools as I dissect this feast in front of my.   It tastes like heaven and feels like love.   I realize how much we show gratitude for each other, when we cook for another person.  It's my turn to return the flavor.   My thoughts scrabble until I utter out my appreciating.  "Pancakes tomorrow?Ē She gently nodded, and smirks in agreement.
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: String on: February 28, 2018, 08:24:54 AM
"grinding my teeth on tart teenage lyrics."   That's rad!!!!
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / String on: February 27, 2018, 03:11:33 AM
You pulled them all.  I was a marionette tethered to your long slender hands, following every twist and turn.   Leash me cause I like it.  I didnít know better.  My heart strings tight as violins and just as sad playing symphonies of unrequited love.  Puppets master make me dance, cause I have nothing left to give.   Wood chips on the ground and familiar aroma of saw dust hangs on the air where you chiseled the best pieces of me down to stubbed fragments.  My family and friends no longer recognize me.  Knocking on my hollow head, the sound of emptiness, the light of my dreams used to filter through the cracks.  Your bitter kisses wonít solve this.  Hang me in your closet until the next time you feel like using me. Run your fingers along the tangled frayed twine, watch me jerk.  Dead to the world, at least I donít feel anything anymore.
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / ankle on: February 07, 2018, 09:28:48 PM
Crouched under a loud sun.  Sweat dripping from scalp to nose.   Already tasting celebratory bubbling champagne, the finish line smells of glory, guts and lemon lime Gatorade.  Starter gun rings out like a siren song, out of the gate, ankles hinge on sculpted legs darkening in the humid Sunday.  Tunnel vision like looking through the barrel of a rifle, blasting pistons of endless practice.  Leave it all behind. 
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Aisle on: February 07, 2018, 02:32:37 AM
Each aisle holds onto another soul.   Stained glass windows glare down through a kaleidoscope of rainbow colored light, basking the backs of each praying head.  Confessions, requests, gratitude fly like swallows nesting on echoes off of decadent marble floors.  Forming into a single file, all seekers wait for their turn to sip fruity, full bodied blood of their savor, receive a blessing, and give their praise to holy scripture.  Sage and hope waft and circle around the man dressed in white ropes etched in golden fringe.  Whispers of gospel raise to the porcelain ceiling reducing the size of the congregation to a spec of sand washing in an ancient universe.   Children and adults alike search for a way to cure an aching wondrous heart, by taking a knee to murmur words that have been passed on through generations.   Grabbing onto old oak backed pulpits for dear life for they fear they might get swept away.
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