Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

November 19, 2019, 06:17:59 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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1  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Mustache on: April 23, 2019, 06:09:04 AM
He is a fixture in a dusty window.  Sitting, chewing and sipping, slurping his morning the way he always did.  An old local coffee shop, Ive never heard him say anything, just twirling his black and grey streaked mustache between the callouss on his fingers.  Robust waves of dark and medium roast paint the air as he slowly drys into the background.  Sometimes he’s the only one there, people race past him as if their all just characters in his masterpiece flying by like time-lapsed film.  The clanking of cups and used silverware repeat rhythms of a bustling morning.  A caffeine paced routine tastes like every other bitter Monday.  Everyone’s late, except for him.  He’s right where he needs to be. 
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Mouse on: April 16, 2019, 05:15:02 AM
Water weathered planks held together by century old nails barely resembled themselves as a staple of a 10 acre farm.  An old musky barn forgotten by time and passed up by weather swirling, breezily whizzing by like crackling orange and yellow leaves.   Now, the rusted chains dangle as pendulum of old technology.  A mouse makes her its mansion, leaving only to collect mortals of salty dried food bits, hucked out of passing cars whos headlights fade into the horizon, and returning to a warm brittle mound of bundled old hay scraps.   Dissolving into the background, scattering splintered paint chipped boards across the landscape, the family monument breaks down like an old jigsaw puzzle.  Once the heart of this farm , her breath quietly slows, growing old, creaking more and more with each county side sunset .  Will future generations remember her importance ? There’s still hope someone may stop at the sun breached for sale sign still hanging on the cross I left it on and bring her back to life. 
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cap on: April 13, 2019, 02:46:28 AM
He tugged on the end of my white stitched blue striped cap to show his approval.   Dust streaked across the side of my white polyester baseball pants tinged with green along the bottom edges still holding their elasticity.  A low hum and a few claps ricochet off the ad covered concrete walls.  Up by one now, all we had to do was hold tight to our lead.   My pulse was quick, hard to corral like a wild horse and I tried to act like it was nothing and just nod to my other team mates as they slapped my shoulders with victory.  My lips were salty, waiting for the last inning to hurry so I could enjoy my game winning drinks and snacks.  I was enveloped in happiness as I dreamt I now knew how all my favorite players felt as when the made plays that I looked up to.  The sweet smell of grass and dirt will always haunt me.
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Photograph on: April 12, 2019, 06:45:01 AM
The musty table top was blanketed with coils of dust that danced in the air as I moved toward the old cabinet.  As if invisible or just becoming part of the background a chipped oak dresser still had a body frame that was sturdy, a hallmark of craftsmanship that had become a relic of generations past.  Laying on top, right where I had left it was an old Kodak picture yellowed and faded from the stale atmosphere of the dimly lit garage.  I could almost taste that chocolate chip mint ice cream cake we had gotten her.  It was her favorite.  She sat upright with a beaming smile from like a diamond necklace perfectly placed across her tiny face.  She was only four years old then.  Where does the time go?  Had I left it here like the forgotten photograph, slowly disintegrating and breaking down into the particles that had originally formed it?  I hold back a river of tears and that same smile I gave to her was now mirrored on my face.  These feelings should be bottled and sold to the masses.
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Chest on: April 10, 2019, 03:10:57 PM
You always know how to open me up.   Rusted creeky hinges hollowed out by years of wondering, lost as if alone and silent at the bottom of murky ocean floor.  Words waiting to come out, but never do.  A corroded, dissolving frame, I’m afraid I’ll be closed forever if I lose you.  My heart builds in pace and power knowing you are near.   Will you be my key again? My chest rattles with uneasy excitement, a faint metallic taste of blood lingers on my tongue from biting it.   Can I spill myself to you?  My edges are rough like a splintered wood,  I don’t want to hurt you again.  Maybe I belong slammed shut.   
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Menu on: October 24, 2018, 09:54:40 PM
Young and timid with flush red cheeks, a boy once under the dictator like intimidation of his father, was now the owner of a small family owned restaurant.   His ideas have been sizzling on his mind for years and now the menu was his.   A bobbing, chattering line of hungry customers awaits the newly displayed eatery.    His hands are sweaty, either from 325 degree ovens surrounding him, or his passion that now escapes from him like hot steam.    In a tunnel of focus he quickly takes in the calm moments before the bustle.   Fresh green basil, sweet parsley, and bitter fennel are his colors to paint his first masterpiece, something to keep the legacy intact.  His steady hands holds the knife like a lover or an old friend letting them know that everything was going to be ok and he would provide.   Worrying thoughts are rotisserie spikes turning his heart over a possible disaster.   As if trying to cut the salty bitterness from their roots, he slices his negative thoughts and discards them in the trash.  He is ready to serve his dreams on white porcelain to all the waiting onlookers. 
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Medicine on: October 23, 2018, 06:18:54 PM
Wretched and weak, I pull on yellow cotton blinds letting light paint my walls with the morning.   Like a dog waiting for its owner, I stare at the door, holding onto every sound , muffled through thin shared dry wall.   My bed still smells of her honey and lemon.  My medicine for a sickening world, I cannot wait to drink her sweet strengthening kisses, her soothing words that calm my ever building pain.   A million miles away, if only one, I begin wasting into the wrinkled sheets.    Shadows play tricks on my walls telling stories of our love.   
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Pen on: October 23, 2018, 05:38:58 AM
Pressing softly into a snowy canvas, the writer squints as if to physically force a thought to spill out onto the page.   Curves and blocks engrave themselves linking her thoughts like a tight rope.   Carefully balancing between insane and genius one strong gust could send her into heaven or hell.   A sweet pine candle dances  on the musky oak desk conjuring writers past, present and future.   A muffled tic of the mid century wall clock taunts her with her waiting deadlines quickening as if to match her pulse.  Filling and emptying her soul, she leaves it all on the flat white sheet.
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Thunder on: October 20, 2018, 04:39:48 PM
Grey cotton clouds cover the 2pm sun, only allowing beams of lights to rain down on us as we chase each other in the yard.   Electricity tugs on our hairs making us conductors of child like energy.    Ohio summer’s smell of fresh grass, wet pavement, and a thickness that signaled an oncoming storm.   The weight of the atmosphere, ancient and primal, flashes like lightning causing all to stop in our tracks and look towards the rolling waves of darkness.  Big red soda, sweet chemical strawberry, stains our tongues, lips, and shouts as we are suddenly presented with the first strike of the might tempest.  Our fingers all point ecstatically, and the countdown begins.  “1,2,3...Boom”  The sky yells back at us sending us into a flurry of sugar filled excitement.   Warm drops trickle down my head and onto my striped blue, white and yellow Osh Kosh shirt. The moment is sealed forever.
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Telephone on: October 19, 2018, 06:43:12 PM
Tightly coiled conversations spill from our mouths. I wrap the old chord around my curled index finger occasionally bitting my pinky nail, an old habit I have had since elementary school.  My heart pounds with each passing word, hanging on a cliff of excitement.   Our digital connection was becoming more real before my very ears.   Her voice was sultry, a tenor sweet and kind.   Stories and compliments are marbles in mouth jumbled, squeaking out of my cracked adolescent throat.   I imagine she smells of rose and lavender right now, as she recounts her day’s work in her grandmother’s overgrown garden.   The floor nearly drops from underneath me as she asks for my weekend plans.  Will be actually meet in person?  A lump in my esophagus nearly keeps me from uttering a painful ...”nothing, what are you doing?”  I can taste my shaky, inexperienced copper blood on my tongue all the while yelling in my head, “Keep it together man!”  With a click and pause, my heart burst with joy at the thought of my first date.
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Church on: October 19, 2018, 04:47:24 PM
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / T Shirt on: October 19, 2018, 05:57:36 AM
Summer’s flag of freedom slid off of her shoulder.  A black Slayer t shirt cut in sliced to perfection, exposing two sleeveless arms and tan stomach.    Flying high on a pink vintage beach cruiser praising the sun and riding the warm wind full of aromas of white cherry blossom and opportunity.  Sticky strawberry chapstick shined across her mouth like diamonds off a cresting wave.   Youth’s chains whizzed as her bike sailed down the boardwalk.   A big open sky and mid July asphalt mapped out her path to anything is possible.   Heart beats and headphones dance to the rhythm of her spokes. 
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Church on: October 17, 2018, 11:49:40 PM
Crystalized memories shine like kaleidoscopes as we pass through stained glass archways.   An early Sunday morning inhale burns with the crisp fall air.   Following my family single files line and the echos of our black soled hard heels still shiny and new from lack of use.  The vast opening of the  cathedral pulls my breath from my chest as it had to many times before.  My gaze darts from symbol to symbol dizzying me just in time to take seat.   Dull spearmint chews ring among the silent murmers of a waiting congregation.   The pulpit’s sweet and sour odor of judgement and regret covered with smiles and handshakes of lost souls fills changes my expression .  I’ve never really felt safe here, only scared small like mice that run through the old wooden walls that surround us.   
14  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.
15  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.
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