Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

October 20, 2018, 08:51:01 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 ... 53
1  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: church on: October 18, 2018, 11:03:22 AM
You and alohaalex did not write about singing and Church. Is the Winthrop, Maine?
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / church on: October 17, 2018, 02:18:38 PM
If you go to the church like a privy
Unload the filth of the day
Sit at your ease, a moment of peace
You wonít be on the wrong way.

I remember the day the Pentagon burned
In gouts of searing jet fuel
I sought sanctuary at Saint Marks
To pray for the peace of the world.

In silence I prayed, in solitude
In the place where I often had sung
Prayed for those where I sang then
At Christ Church near the Pentagon.

That is a church, a sanctuary
Where a broader family will grow
Peace of convenience when you begin
Peace prayers for the body you know.
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: radio on: October 16, 2018, 12:11:48 AM
Yup, baseball on the radio is getting hard to find.
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / radio on: October 15, 2018, 12:34:57 PM
The New York station fades away
Roar of crowd to hiss of rain
Patience a while, Yastrzemski at bat
A ball on the outside comes though.

AM at night at six hundred miles
A chlid knows the ionosphere
Red Sox defeat in sound patches
Transistors pulled them in.

Radio nights like magic carpets
How far to fly for the show
In just a few years, FM would win
Near music, not that far to go.

But still I try, some few nights
To pull in New York from DC
From late nights in Maine where radio reigned
The Sox might win this game.
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / kitchen table on: October 15, 2018, 12:18:26 PM
The benches in the galley
Are backed with railed shelves
The bric-a-brac of order
Kept stationary there.

The table too is railed
With rubber web placemats
To keep a plate in one place
In the shifting of the sea.

And men who smell of fish guts
With plates of halibut
Eat doggedly as the sea
Throws them side to side.

Feet are braced and small of back
Holds tight against the bench
The sea runs high with dinner nigh
This crew gets a kind of rest.

Not much for conversation
The catch has been too thin
Five more days at the line
The back to port again.

This table with it's rails
Will serve those coming meals
Out on the deck in the wind
Hydraulics turn the reel.
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / fire on: October 10, 2018, 01:42:47 PM
Calmest of nights, no breath of wind
The branches piled waist high
A jar of grease, some shredded cardboard
A lighter for fires glows blue.

Yellow flames flicker near a grease smudge
The sizzle as the grease starts to burn
Increase in heat as flames both rise and fall
A shower of flaring grease balls.

And now a gout seers through the twigs
A column in the midst of the pile
And now the air moves, no longer still
Moves to the heat of the fire.

Ember edged bats soar to the sky
Remnants of cardboard take wing
Cracking sparks leap, rise in the air
The growing column of flame.

And now overhead, live branches of trees
Are lit with a pulsing light
A heat shimmer column rises through
Rising smoke above the treesí height.
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / fiddle on: October 09, 2018, 04:15:51 PM
Fire extinguisher close at hand
Thatís what this fiddle needs
Rising smoke from screaming strings
The bow a blur of speed.

No rosin can ever make this cool
The friction is heating to fire
Faster and faster the jig is up
At a tempo that reeks of desire.

Fire extinguisher and defibrillator
Keeping both of them close
The fiddle fire will rattle your heart
Be careful of syncing to it.

One hundred sixty beats per minute
Thatís all this old heart can take
That fiddle is rolling at two hundred ten
Lord Jesus, this might be the end.

Itís not the devil, heís not that good
Itís the spirit but faster than life
Defibrillator, fire brigade
Rescue must be on the way.

But now Southwind, in dulcet strains
Is pulling away at the heart
Tear in the eye, the slow growing waltz
This heart is spun out of that.
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / cigarette on: October 08, 2018, 12:04:29 PM
Crinkle of paper slid between thumb
Thumb and index finger
Rubbing past ridges of finger pads
So round, so tense with the filling.

The new opened pack, the first cigarette
Not shaken, not stirred, not loosened
Firmly rolled, scented sweet
A freshness ready for fire

Sizzle and crackle of the match flare
Sizzle meets in the fag end
Flare and glow in the first draw
No ash yet, just burning ember.

Now the shoulders shake something off
As lungs draw soothing smoke
Anticipation's tension now in release
Thereís really nothing more to it.

Induced desire, manufactured craving
Thatís the trick of tobacco
Relaxes a tension all self built
But the mind feels a clearness.
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Tennessee on: October 06, 2018, 01:53:33 PM
Took me there
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / rainbow on: October 06, 2018, 01:23:13 PM
I look for the double, the colors reversed
Whenever I glimse a new rainbow
The darkened sky with colors drained out
The wholeness of unbroken arc.

I look for for the whole, the rain dazzled scene
I look not just for the beauty
I want light's effect, the spectrum, the phase
The order brought out of raindrops.

That rain too will water a garden
Where snapdragons will shine brighter colors
That rain too will wash away dust
Brighten the red and the green and the blue cars.

But rainbows are math, they're spectroscopy
With Feynman, I'm astounded by order
A screen of rain and the westering Sun
The second bow glows at it's border.
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Tennessee on: October 05, 2018, 03:29:40 PM
Black walnuts line along the curb
Smell of their start of rot
Hard green balls for third grade hands
The throw lands farther along.

Thatís Tennessee, thatís Oak Ridge
The stripmine tortured hills
The mountains named on all sides
Black walnuts lined at the curb.

An elementary school with a football team
Thatís why there are walnuts to throw
Learn to throw, learn to throw
By the curb where the smell starts to grow.

Mother Maybelle and the Carters
They've got kin there you know
Johnny Cash got married in
And itís not too far to Knoxville.

And maybe this throw makes an arc of fire
Maybe this is the one
Maybe this song will be Nashville gold
As little ones play in the Sun.
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: dosage on: October 05, 2018, 02:39:55 PM
Thank you. I'm running for office and some have suggested it will bring material. That story was given to me on the porch of the Moose Lodge where I stopped in to shake some hands. We also shared this story that night.
https://electchrisdudley.us/thestory/
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / dosage on: September 30, 2018, 11:15:34 AM
Out on the smoking porch
Out where it started
Not that porch
But the same all the same.

Out on the smoking porch
Last night it was crowded
I talked again
About fentanyl's reign.

It took me forever
To give up smoking
Took forever
'Cause addiction's that way.

It took me forever
From smoking porch days
Back in ninth grade
Where the cool kids all hanged.

Out on the smoking porch
We talked about it
The kid who ate
A fentanyl patch.

Out on the smoking porch
The ghosts so many
From more funerals
Any could count.

I had forever
To give up smoking
Had forever
'Cause smoking kills slow.

I had forever
But not these young kids
Need to be cool
On a morgue slab today.
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: fool on: September 26, 2018, 03:55:02 AM
Thank you. I guess I've got foolish experience.
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / fool on: September 25, 2018, 12:01:11 PM
The foolís rule sits between two stools
Closes barn doors after the horses
Hears the creak of huge hinges
Jams a finger as the latch closes.

Thereís just this guitar and that mandolin
Between me and a fool
Youíd say the same but I said it first
Just play and start the next verse.

I heard of a riddle asked by a sphinx
I heard but forgot it again
Ask me another, Iíll get that wrong too
There's the trouble: a brain thatís too full.

Turn to the left, turn to the right
Those glasses must be somewhere close
Turn and turn and turn again
They're perched on the top of your nose.

Fool me once, shame on you
Fool me twice, itís on me
But I fool myself a dozen times
Whose to shame in that monkey tree?
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