Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

May 23, 2019, 11:08:51 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 / Crocodile on: April 02, 2019, 11:52:11 AM
Thick dense air and a slight haze elevating from the hot earth. The sun barely shining through and overcast day. Still water, silent, marshlands winding through the mysterious mangroves. Eyes barely seen on the surface of the water, beady black pupils, waiting for its time to strike. Long tail, scaled, swinging back and forth. A slight hum of an engine puttering down the river, fishing poles standing upright like soldiers at attention, the salty taste of jerky, and the rich taste of coffee. A near by dock in the distance with fan boats and eager tourists to glide along the glassy river hoping to get a look at the creatures lurking.
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Rose on: March 28, 2019, 12:51:28 PM
The taste of red wine on her lips. A single rose in her hand. Her hair gently brushing the side of my face, red like a rose. Her green dress like matching the stem, and a love so deep it flows through my veins like rapids on a late spring morning. Broken hearts like thorns. Lost love like the rose folded in an old leather bound journal. The pages yellowing and the musty smell of memories. Soft petals, with a cool touch surrounded by babies breath. White and Red, 6 or 12. The cliche flower given to a lover on Valentines day. Yellow, White or Pink, Vines wrapping around a trellis, slatted wood with with paint chipping. 2 Love birds nesting in the shade of an old stucco house. Staring out of the window panes at memories gone but not forgotten.
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Bus on: March 27, 2019, 12:59:28 PM
Sitting in the back of an old school bus with my knees on the dark green seats. The smell of the pleather heating up on an early summer day, excited to have vacation around the corner. Bouncing up and down from the bumps of the road, leaning right and left on the windy side streets back to the bus stop. Loud children's voices blending together in a concoction of sound like a soda bottle shaken vigorously about to explode. The texture of the green seats, rough, with the occasional writing on them in black marker, lighter imprints melted into the seat. Crammed into a seat with one or two other kids with my head against the window slightly bouncing my forehead impatiently waiting to end the trip home or to school. The bus drivers radio squawking and beeping and his eyes darting above to inspect whats happening in his big rear view mirror. The smell of diesel gas, the roar of the engine vibrating your chest.
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Potion on: May 30, 2018, 12:13:02 PM
Stirring my emotions, swirling, bubbling, simmering love. Sweet to the taste, her lips touch mine ever so slowly. I feel her breath on face engulfing me into the abyss of her love. Her voice like liquid, smooth, soft, calm, flowing like a gentle stream over rocks and branches in the forest. I can swim in her eyes, her lashes dance like a flame on a candle in a light breeze. I pour her soul into my spirit like a glass of champagne. She is my potion, my healing, my fix, my wildest dreams come true.
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Ankle on: May 07, 2018, 12:45:55 PM
I stand on the dark brown sand soaked with the ocean water. My toes melt into the soft gushy wet shore as the the sun filters through the overcast sky. Merchant ships are on the horizon and the water is smooth and glassy. The waves are breaking right in perfect lines, the spray coming off the hollow tube. The inside of the waves turn a yellow green from the sun piercing through them. The white foam comes up around my ankles and recede back. I am alone and at peace with just the sounds of nature. The birds are hunting for fish and the buoys gently rock up and down in Mother earths arms. The beach is empty with wooden life guard stands vacant and waiting for a busy summer day to start in a few hours. A lone man with a metal detector wanders up and down the coast looking for lost treasure. A fisherman is casting out his line in the hopes of a big catch. I go back and sit staring off into the never ending horizon and breath deep breaths of the salt air. I shut my eyes and the orange glow from my eyelids transport me into a dream. I am at peace, quiet, with my fingers sinking into the sand as time washes away. The sun is fully out and the sky is a deep blue with the occasional big white puffy cloud floating by. There are faces and other images in the clouds......
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Stone on: April 17, 2018, 01:16:05 PM
Sitting in the car in the backseat as we travel across the bridges into upstate New York. The heat from the sun coming through the windows always made me sleepy or even slightly motion sick. Such a boring drive, hours and hours through the bowels of rt 17 to our destination of Howe Caverns. I slid out of the car onto the rocky dirt road to enter the caverns. We got into a little cart type thing and the chains rattled and clanged as it pulled us through the dark, damp tunnel. Water dripped down from the top of the cave and it sounded like a faucet that was leaking in a tile bathroom. The sound echoed and bounced around like ping pong balls on a cement floor. The cold air hit my face and made my eyes dry. Overall, it was a good trip but the long drive home was pretty terrible as a 9 year old. The old white car, clicking the bright lights on and off as cars would pass us from the other direction. Lon
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Spy on: April 12, 2018, 12:11:24 PM
The old door is heavy and feels rough to the touch from the age of the wood. The house was one of the first, built on the marshland, yellow stucco with brown vertical stripes. There was a musty smell to the house and the floors creaked like a rusty swing set in the wind. He peeks through an old key hole, the one that a skeleton key would fit in, looking to find out who was talking in the other room. Someone called the other day saying they wanted to buy the old house that he called his home. His mind was a Ferris Wheel slowing turning and giving him that sinking feeling in his stomach. His heart was like train barreling down the track at enormous speed, rife with anticipation. He could taste disappointment, and it was as bitter as grapefruit juice......
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Tent on: April 11, 2018, 11:54:50 AM
She lived on crooked st. Long curly hair, soft white skin. It was upstate NY in late Spring at her house by the creek. I could hear the rushing water over the rocks and the wind rustle the newly budded trees. Her lips were as sweet as a glass of tea, I could lose myself in her light green eyes. The smell of her perfume made my heart beat faster and faster the closer I got to her lips underneath a makeshift tent between two trees in the pouring down rain. Her love shook me like the thunder rumbling in the clouds above. We held each other as small drops of rain made its way through our jackets propped up and we just laughed....
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Tulips on: April 10, 2018, 12:29:39 PM
Dark grey sky above a bright yellow tulip. Muggy, heavy air on a mid spring morning. I can smell the wet earth beneath my feet as it squishes like a sponge as I walk down the path of central park. The sun is trying to break through the windy, cloudy sky. Drops of rain linger on the petals slowly dripping of as it shines like a prism. Dogs are barking and running around and the squeaky wheels of a stroller passes by me crunching the gravel path. Yellow and red flowers are blooming in the flower beds, the sign of life rejuvenating after a bleak cold winter. The cold wants to stick around like a bad house guest eating all of our joy and making us stay indoors peering out our windows at the black, white, and grey silent surroundings. Tulip festival always seems to have this in between weather of chilly, grey, windy days but the hope of spring lies in the colorful blooms of the tulips themselves.
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Donut on: March 09, 2018, 01:53:30 PM
17 nothing better to do but get in the car with some friends on a snowy day. School was cancelled and our pack of friends get in our cars to go the parking lot of Walker woods. I had a white 4 cylinder little mustang with a sticker on the side window with a tree of life on it colored in psychedelic patterns. My other friend had the infamous red station wagon that would be a magnet for the cops to pull over with the dancing bears on the bumper and his long blond hair. We would do donuts in the parking lot making streaks in the snow. The air was crisp with the smell of fires from the houses near by. The "woods" or a patch of woods that stretched out maybe 10 miles was our hiding place in the suburban crowded world we grew up in on Long Island. On any given day there would be kids hanging out making fires, drinking beer and whisky. There was a homeless man that set up camp and we were always scared of encountering him. We never did though. In the winter the lake would freeze and we could walk across it to the island and have parties with kegs and our radios playing the Grateful Dead. One night the whooshing sound of a helicopter came rushing in with spotlights to chase us out. Now looking back they probably just wanted to have a little excitement that night and wanted to take a ride on the helicopter cause nobody was hurting anyone but themselves.
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Ankle on: March 07, 2018, 01:19:24 PM
small beads around her ankle jingle when she walks. Her long flowing sundress dances in the wind. The smell of coconut sun lotion and the sea ease my mind. The sand melts around my toes as the waves crash on the shore hitting my face with mist and cooling me off from the hot sun. Beach umbrellas, mojito's, ice cold water sweating through the glass. I strum an old acoustic guitar staring off into the horizon. The sun is at its peak and it reflects off the ocean. The line up in the water is crowded as 4 foot perfect glassy waves roll in, up and down with the spray flying off the back of them with the offshore trade winds. Children are splashing in the pool with their parents and I can taste the salt on her skin when I lean in for a kiss. I smell amazing food from the occasional breeze, it smells like monfungo, platanos, and arroz con gondules.
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Doctor on: March 05, 2018, 12:50:57 PM
Red lights screaming through the garage doors of the hospital. Stretchers being rolled on the cool tile floors as tubes and oxygen are put on the patients as fast as they can. Doctors and nurses frantically go from victim to victim assessing the most in need and deligatng where they should go. The smell of cleaning products is so strong you can taste it. Sounds of beeps from EKG meters showing the life or lifeless signs of the emergency response of another horrible act from some insane teen. The over medicated, numb youth, desensitized by violence and stripped of human to human interaction. Hiding behind screens communication is fast, overwhelming, and sometimes heartless. 
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Trumpet on: February 21, 2018, 01:27:09 PM
A warm winter night in New York City where the fog lays over the streets and the lights are filtered through it. We walk out of the subway station with a slight buzz and smiles on our faces headed to the Blue Note to see Kenny Garrett and his quartet. The line is long and everyone is eager to try to get in. We manage to get a table and order some drinks before the music. Kenny came out and the sound of his saxophone filled my soul with refreshing ideas and creativity like a glass of ice cold water on a hot summer day. After the show there was a jam session where a boy that must have been 13 walked in with his pants too short and a trumpet in his hand. He walked up to the stage and started playing a tune with the band and schooled all the other players with soaring, fast be-bop licks. He was an old soul trapped in a young body. I imagined Miles Davis as a young kid, precocious and incredibly talented. The session ended well after 2 in the morning with other jazz players walking in like vampires, staying up all night because thats when jazz happens. Making the dead of night alive with spirit.
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Diary on: February 20, 2018, 02:14:11 PM
The Ink bleeds thoughts and desires into a worn leather bound book. Hidden secrets of the soul seep out of the mind letting go of the inner baggage like a feather in the wind. There's a lock on the cover, ornate and with a engraved pattern etched in the tarnished bronze. The leather strap is frayed and the pages are gold leafed. Buried underneath the dust is the voice of unbridled honesty. The words are laced with sweetness, anger, depression, bitterness, hope, and joy. Looking back into the past and shining the spotlight on times and memories not thought of often, but not forgotten. Nuggets of what was, What could be, and what has been achieved can be painful but gratifying. An enigma of emotions battle through your mind as you taste the sharp realities of your thoughts.
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Hammock on: February 19, 2018, 02:56:23 PM
Palm trees swaying 20 feet high. Beach umbrellas made of brown canvass lining the beach giving a break from the hot sun mixed with a smell of coconut lotion. Steel drums are playing a calypso tune. On the table with a tall glass filled with rum pineapple and orange juice with a splash of grenadine a Mojito right beside it. The sound of tiny waves lull you into a peaceful state like the sail boats in the distance rocking back and forth. The sand is soft like a pillow, surrounding your toes and warming up your feet under the umbrella. Outside of the shady spots the sand is hot to the touch making you hop and make a break from the ocean. Locals are wheeling makeshift carts filled with jewelry, trinkets, or cigars preying on the tourists wallets and ignorance to try and make a few bucks for their family. Smiles on everyones faces, paradise for a few days and rest from the stressful realities of life. A much needed break from snarling traffic, bosses that exert power, bills in the mail, and....
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