Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

October 18, 2018, 11:29:33 PM
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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 ... 8
1  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / church on: October 17, 2018, 06:15:05 PM
we used to attend sunday mass
wake up early, put on our sunday best
crowd into the car and head on down to winthrop
st. francis was a welcoming place
tall, wide open doors, like wide open arms
encouraging people from all walks of life to step inside
our town was pretty basic, most people talked, looked and dressed the same
like cardboard cutouts
i remember those sundays
they felt so sunny
like god above really did shine his light a little brighter
springtime comes to mind, fresh air and green grass
the glimmering lake across the street
church always felt strange
it was the last place i wanted to be at ten years old
basically chained to the pew, forced to digest stories from a thousand years ago
i could never catch on, my attention was too easily drawn to the slow ticking seconds of my watch
twenty-four more minutes
my younger brother and i grew restless easily
my father's patience wore thin easily
while i had no choice, he attended for mom
faith is pretty loaded concept, its hard to boil down
why do we look to the sky for answers when only contains more questions?
communion tastes like cardboard and that, sadly, that was the highlight of my church going sundays

2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / rock on: October 16, 2018, 07:25:26 PM
she's my rock
always there
strong, sturdy,
but she doesn't weigh me down
i gravitate around her in planetary motion
coming real close, but never quite colliding
she likes to get stoned
i join her
she's tough despite life's erosive ways
she doesn't run when the storms roll in
she stands her ground
she's got nothing to prove
she knows what she is
my anchor
my safe place
there to keep me from drifting too far away
i know what i am when I'm around her
i chip away at my imperfections
she embraces hers
if only i could be like that
self-doubt makes for good arrowheads if you know where to aim
she's my rock
unchanging
impenetrable core
protecting
a constant stepping stone
we skip dreams across the water to see how far they'll go
ripples collide
confusion arises
but at the end of the day,
the waters calm and we chill by the shore

3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / radio on: October 15, 2018, 11:43:52 PM
i tune out the world
alone in my room
static surrounds me

i tune into the girl
her voice crystal clear
my favorite station

she sang songs from a stage
for the universe to hear
we listened from a distance
til the last echo of the last line
collided with our souls

she resonates there
some hollow place inside
ever longing for acceptance
ever searching for light

i channel my thoughts through music
minor chords with happy melodies
sounds like melancholy

our souls could live in harmony
dialed in precisely
given the right place
given the right time

she's seems as free as the airwaves she travels through
inspiring the dreamer in me
anything becomes possible

tell me stories
be my radio
sing me to sleep
a goodnight kiss

whats the hurry in life?
always gotta be somewhere else
someone else
what about the radio?

her song plays on
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / swelter on: September 24, 2018, 06:38:03 PM
thick beads of sweat line my brow, just above my squinting eyes. the sun is relentless, hammering heat waves into my tender flesh, my skin; red, my feet on the tar; sizzling. i dance on the tips of my toes toward the refuge of a shadow stretched out beneath a stop sign, a moment of relief is taken with a deep breath. summer in nevada sucks for a traveler. the locals seem used to it. the gamblers risk third degree burns for a shot at a big win, but they always leave empty handed, broken and blistered in defeat. the landscape is toasted, scorched, and dying of thirst. rain is abstract in this part of the world...
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / trumpet on: March 21, 2018, 05:35:25 PM
a section of tiny knuckled eager fingers quiver and shake as tightly-pinched lips buzz through the winding spiraling golden brass horns only to lurch out the front bell cracked and broken, squeaky and flatulating, soaking my ears with nails on a chalkboard, the agonizing sound of hearing hot-crossed-buns for the ten-millionth tiring time, i think my ears are going to fall off. it never ceases, like a failed faucet dripping from the sink, drip, drip, drip, drip, endlessly through the long night, like the lonesome seconds of the clock on the wall seemingly slowing down time as you get lost in observation of it going round and round, tick...tick....tick.......tick.. counting down, to arrive at the moment when it all comes crashing down, like the weight of niagara falls or some buckling building crushing you where you stand, how I pray for that moment, in my mind, down on my hands and knees, kissing the untended toenails of jesus christ himself. you swear if those three notes dagger you in the ears one more time you might snap and cause a major scene of reverberating ruckus in an auditorium filled with 'my boy is next mozart!' parent-types....
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / swingset on: March 14, 2018, 10:21:56 PM
the creaks and rattling chains of the old playground swings dance in the autumn breeze. with winter winds on its way, the little school children stay bundled up indoors while waiting for the big yellow busses to take them all away for the day. the grey overcast sky blankets the afternoon in gloom as the last of the dried out, crispy maple leaves fall from their now naked branches to the frozen solid ground below, the old muddy footprints, as if sculpted out of cement will remain fossilized through winter until they thaw out in the coming spring only to become soft mud puddles of a foot that's long since outgrown itself through the long winter season. the landscape is as dull as its ever been this time of year, dead, brown, dry, quiet, all life seems to be bracing for the bone-chilling temperatures to come, my nose red and wet, my eyes watering from the cold, my lips chapped and cracking, my scarf wrapped tightly around just below my chin...
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Paintbrush on: January 10, 2018, 07:59:37 PM
the artist swings her brush like a magic wand
on a blank canvass soon to be muddied with her demons and nightmares
dark shades of grey and blue mixed on a pallet with a sad tint of October orange
the cracked reflections in her mind come oozing out the tip of the fine brush
paint spatters with anger at the thought of a vengeful mother and her raging jealousy toward her more beautiful and youthful daughter
surrounded by hanging white sheets in the back room with a hidden door under the staircase she hides from the chaos of that world
her art speaks the only truth she knows
her creativity and passion collide in a colossal dance of dark shades and accents of white shine
the details of her life spilled out for no one to see,
a shy butterfly too afraid of a little summer heat
she pulls the thick wooden handle of the heavy-duty brush from her worn-leather waist belt like a cougar magnum, loading it with the ammo of a super-dense yellowy paste, lifting her hand ever-so slowly, her eyes squint and eyebrows dance as she ponders the destruction soon to come, waiting and building up tension like volcano about to blow its lid....
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / deck on: January 08, 2018, 10:41:30 PM
under the sun in summer heat
the old man standing next to me
looks like the deck needs a fresh coat of green
pull out the pressure washer, it's time to get mean
carve out the color of what used to be
rusty paint chipped away in flakes from the scene
the hose fights back as the water shoots out
misty, dewy, waterfall spout
works like an eraser on the aging wood
clearing the marks and shoe prints of last year
scuffs and scrapes, i remember that splinter
left a scar on my knee looking like a blizzard in winter
ten steps down to the soft grass below
a jump from the top to fuel my ego
i press the weight of my full grown body
listening to the bending planks for weakness
it springs...
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / laser on: January 06, 2018, 12:26:30 AM
thin beams of red and neon green
shot from the stage up through the roof
they dance in motions synchronized
be careful, don't let them in your eyes

some are used to break up stones
lodged in your kidneys til out they go
the pain is sharp like giving birth
the docs compare their weight and girth

tag! you're it! you've been shot first
away i hid, and dodged your burst
we'd run through the dark
and hide behind walls
peak over our shoulders and around the corners
the siren on my chest will let me know
if i've been got by the gun you hold
i'm down for the count by elimination
next round is payback
and it's you i'm chasing.

look up into the dark black sky
a single light bolts across it now
a UFO at laser speeds
a streak of light i can't believe.


10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / haircut on: January 04, 2018, 10:37:21 PM
as a child, i never had a say when it came to snipping the hair from my head
when the weeds grew too long on top, father became the barber
from the front door, he'd call me and my brother in from the front yard
we'd race up the hill, our long hair flowing in the wake of wind left behind us
loser had to wait and watch while the other underwent the surgery
i had outgrown my days of bowl cuts and buzz cuts,
the girls started to take notice and demanded more of my preteen looks
this was troublesome for the old man, who was more like a one trick pony with a pair of scissors
he sat me down and began clipping away at my back and sides,
the fine hair fell like delicate snowflakes to my shoulders, then the floor
the tiles of the floor began to disappear with each ensuing swipe...
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cabinet on: January 03, 2018, 06:05:28 PM
wood dust dances in circles through the air like exhaled smoke from scarlet lips in the corner of a dim lit bar. the fine, grade eleven, sandpaper whispers against the wood plank in tiny tight motions in order to achieve the smooth, virgin feel of a fresh cabinet door, ready to be mounted on gold-plated hinges, to swing open without so much as a creek; a silent unveiling of father's finest liquor. the smell of wood-stain and polyurethane cover the room in a toxic cloud of chemicals, stinging the nostrils and hammering away the space behind my eyes...
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / bell on: December 08, 2017, 12:01:55 AM
she had a butt like a bell
made my ding dong scream 'holy hell!'
she's ringing out for me as far as i can tell
like I'm at the top of the tower in the center of town
and everybody below starts crowding around
by the look of their faces, they heard the sound
she had a butt like a bell
she had a butt like a bell
she made my ding dong start to swell
oh wait, she's a dude, there's my ticket to hell
they watched me staring now they wanna watch me fall
from the top of the tower in the center of town
now the red faces of the crowd start to push and yell
a mob of believers of god's good word
they're taking their flame to this tower of wood
screaming 'you'll burn like you should! you'll burn like you should!'
i dodged a tomato and down i fell
all cause i look at the dude with a butt like a bell.

okay I'm done.
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / railroad tracks on: October 03, 2017, 07:04:15 PM
my fear runs through the bottoms of my feet as i dance along the junctions of the railroad tracks, wondering; what if the rails suddenly clamp together and my unsuspecting foot gets pinched to a pancake?! meh, i'll store that anxiety away for another day. the sun is coming up over the east, unveiling the shadows that hid the goldmine of gum and flattened pennies i had planted with my buddies the night before. crouching down at the knees i peeled the shiny copper off the cold rails and held it up to the sun, flipping it back and forth between my fingers, examining it with my squinted childish eyes. it was exactly how i imagined it would be and would fit nicely in the collection of thingamajigs that i kept inside the tackle box of boyhood beneath my bed. down along the tracks, the rocks began to fall steeply down the sides of the massive wooden planks that secured the rails; the heads of the...
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / tape on: September 07, 2017, 07:41:57 PM
someone must have been playing tug of war with this hundred dollar bill, under the tape that joined the two halves ran a scar down the center of benjamin's face. the things people will do for money.. i wonder if this bill is still valid, the ATM thinks i'm trying to prank it, spitting out the bill in the manner of sticking out its tongue and laughing at ME; the dumbass. its real though, i held it up to the light and could see the inner veins of special ink and seals letting me know this bill was very much alive, even though its stitched together by scotch tape. i wonder how many hands this paid their dues with this paper, how many trees had to be chopped down and chipped down to dust to make it, dad always made the point that money doesn't grow on trees, but it kind of does, right? i like gold, heavy like a paper weight, shiny, but not shiny as polished chrome if you ask me. the two halves of this bill tell two very different tales, on one hand, the honest man and his honest wage, sweating under the sun, aching throbbing back by supper, on the other, cocaine, hookers, stripping down to the bare essentials and beyond, the black market, turning the cheek and looking the other way, the backs that were crushed in the name of fortune and fame, cartels and hot shot wall streeters doing their dirt...
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / vase on: September 05, 2017, 11:13:06 PM
the morning rays came creeping through the low-hanging kitchen curtains sending a ufo-type beam of light to the center of the breakfast table. little specs of dust danced and swirled illuminated through the air in an effortless manner, showcasing the motion of air as mother walked on by. the tiles beneath my feet were cold icy blocks which was typical for this time of year, the end of autumn and the oncoming winter chilling its way through our poorly insulated walls. our house creaked a lot, the floor boards giving way with each and every footstep. the loose nails speak a squeaky language as my over-sized brother stomps through room. a rainbow of colors mark the centerpiece of the table, an hour-glass shaped vase about as big as my forearm, with a bouquet of sleepy sunflowers slouching out from the top, tired and fading. the vase belonged to the previous residents, once grey and full of wrinkles, time's toll on our fragile bodies; grandma and gramps still roam these halls, i can feel it, the little blonde hairs on my neck stand straight up as they invisibly enter the room and spook us from the backs of our minds. us kids and mom lock eyes as the silent moment passes...
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