Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

January 17, 2019, 03:14:02 PM
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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 / Elephant on: January 14, 2019, 12:11:46 AM
The air is sizzling and the flies buzzing. She swivels and shakes her tail to ward them off. Thereís dust everywhere and the sky is an intense blue. Itís quiet and a soft breeze gently pushes on the grass and forces the flies to exert care as they fly. The elephant starts working on a small tree and eats leaves and other parts of it. The huge feet stomp and tussle shifting to get better traction as she works on her dinner. The ground shakes with her steps and the sound is like that of a mat being beaten against the ground. A deep thud.

The smell is the smell of animals wild animals the trees are fairly low and other animals are eating them as well. The leaves are sucked off and are chewed by giraffes and gnus. The mashed up cells are formed into balls with saliva and then swallowed to become energy for the animal. Meanwhile new shoots are forming. Tiny cell after tiny cell decides to divide and the molecular mechanisms work to divide chromosomes and membranes until cell by million cells, the tree has grown a millimeter. It looks quiet but there are a trillion such processes happening everywhere. If each one made a sound the noise would be deafening. And different as each species is the processes are identical down to enzymes. Tiny specialization notwithstanding these machines are incredibly versatile.

The elephants large ears slowly fan back and forth and an airplane is heard in the sky above. I look up and see a single prop plane with a black tail of exhaust and the sun gleaming from its body. Some letters are written in bold black type. The airplane slowly grows fainter and then the faint noise is again dro
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Admin new words olease on: January 13, 2019, 11:55:34 PM
Dear admin weíve done all these a few
Months ago. May we have new ones please?

I hope we havenít run out of words...

Thanks much
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Lint on: January 12, 2019, 05:46:18 PM
The fluffy lint feels very soft and the action of scooping it out is pleasing. Something in the primal brain loves this cupping of the hand sticking it into the basket and feeling along the bottom for the flat coalesced fibres and then a slow scraping the nails carefully beneath the edge of the crumpling sheet and then I roll it to turn it into a little ball and I toss it next to the washer. And the washer like a spacecraft a technological marvel a revolution and a robot of merit. Filled with brute force and calculated tenderness if needed and more electronics than a 1995 computer the shaking at the end of the cycle is like the ritualistic tremors of the jungle people a chant raised arms painted faces and the earth shudders we have woken the dormant god and the night is black and the fire is fierce and illuminated all the faces black and sweaty and serious and zealous with tribal pride and their costumes are inventive and filled with animal parts and they eat and dance to drum music that makes the forest reverberate. Far away an accountant sits with green tea and works on my 2018 return. Her table is white and her face a mask of concentration a long beak protruding at the center and feathers and the mask is white with heavily carved and black painted eyebrows and she takes a sip of tea and looks out the window her neck muscles smoothly erecting her head with imperceptible
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Baseball hat on: January 11, 2019, 04:43:28 PM
The blue shade curves downward and the corners touch the spots just in front of my temples. Pushing slightly inwards as if knocking to enter my skull. The white bone and teeth covered with a thin blanket of skin and the a cloth contraption to ward off the sun. The light is hammering on the hat. A steady stream of photons piling up energy and making the little blue cloth molecules boil and dance in their own right underneath the shade itís cool and dark and distant music is the battle up top and my eyes survey the field and the pop when the ball is hit. Other naked skulls are visible we are a bone collection walking around stuffing hotdogs into the void underneath our jaws. The bones are well lubricated and make no sound and all look similar but after a while I can sense differences and I can appreciate the thicker bones and the slender ones so many models and theyíre distributed at random. Incredible. The plastic seats are orange and have far less diversity they seem completely identical but look closely and they too are not the same tiny scratches set them apart and some are bent a little more and the coloring is different on some and the air floats silently around it all now we have organs too and here the spectacle really takes off. Livers also come in different sizes and these factories pump and hustle all through our lives they never stop itís a miracle. I need a break evíry five minutes if Iím performing a heavy duty task but our brain kidneys and lungs and donít forget the heart they are non stop machines never even for a second do they get a break
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Lamp shade on: January 10, 2019, 03:57:59 PM
The orange lamp remains in my vision even when I close my eyes. Something about orange. And the large white dot. But really the orange. Itís an ocean inside me that expands the azure sky over the eerie and warm glowing ocean. Itís a perpetual sunset. Four skinny legs. Like an animal Bambi struggling through the first steps. The stiff whirry ears the fur that looks really soft but thatís not when you touch it except if it lays down really flat and the surface is shimmering with the mysterious patterns and as I stand there in the snow the deer next to me my hand resting on its back our breaths look so similar in the frosty air and branches heavy with snow are everywhere even the thinnest leafless branches have snow on them as if a book of impossible shape with many leaves was deposited on a stick or as if the branch is the cover. The weight of the snow makes the branch groan silently the fibers straining the structural integrity of the little twig is walking a thin line and an owl looks on silently. The huge eyes staring in complete stillness so still I can hear the vision cells processing everything and now the deer is gone and has left hoof prints in the snow. Suppressed disturbances in the powdery cover. Itís action and interaction or passive layering forever. My own eyes begin to water from the cold. The air is dry no moisture can exist at this temperature and my red scarf feels penetrated by the cold but I donít care. Itís a winter adventure. Iíve already seen an owl what will be next a snow leopard?  A wolf slowly approaches and I can smell the uncompromising hunter from feet away. He
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Hanger on: January 07, 2019, 04:06:37 PM
The curvy metal is an animal with unique personality. Inhabiting the closet and a horde lives there. The gnu of the closet. Suspended in midair and the grass gets dusty when it moves. The earth shudders. Perhaps itís the earth that moves first and the horde second. Perhaps the earth has an itch and itís always like an earthquake. One minute everything is calm and quiet. Next minute itís pandemonium and buildings come crashing down and roads disappear into the earth. Like a Mayan sacrifice. Never seen again. The blue sky gets obscured for a spell but its view is constant and calm. Watching without comment. Planning rain planning clouds organizing and filtering sunshine. The myriad rays that silently roast bake and split. Coax seeds into life. Melt ice and barely touch it in other cases. Brings the sea to a subtle boil. A canvas to paint on. The lapping sea. Solid beneath. Gelatinous and soaking everything it touches. The brine and seagulls. The crab scurries away as I chase it with my hands. But my chase is half hearted as Iím scared by its size. Itís as big as my hand and black and red. Armored and shiny in the totally clear water. Like a movie screen. Silver and projected images. Unreal itís so real. My hand deformed under water. Magnified at a slant. The hand as light. For a moment it seems detached and foreign. The crab is long gone and I sit
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Remote on: January 07, 2019, 03:49:03 PM
Thanks for your comment. Yes I guess itís less obvious but true that we often start with sight. Thanks for reading Smiley
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Remote on: January 06, 2019, 05:15:49 PM
The tiny object weighs almost nothing as I hold it in my hand. The plastic feels flimsy and powerful and my mouth starts to actually water as I anticipate the blast of color and sound from the screen. The screen is covered with dust and static electricity has arranged it in patterns. The screenís dark black shine is replaced by the Netflix logo and I adjust my rear in the seat. Iím hovering in space my face and all senses turned toward the barrage of color. The cushion sags springingly under my butt and I bounce up and down a few times and now the color of electric blue skies and phosphorescent green moss on a cliff towering 100 feet off the water lapped sand invades my mind. The textures on the screen are so close to real but to be there. To smell it and feel the temperature of the air and the sea breeze. That salt in the air. In winter it snows here and the cliffs are covered with a beautiful white pillow and rug. The water turns grey and the beach is white. Itís a raw and unforgettable sight. Undisturbed and yet. A power plant or a harbor are beautiful also. Itís a metamorphosing wilderness. But my senses seem to come alive watching the non-human and the non perfect. So surprising. A cup thatís always full. I look at one detail and it sucks me in further. Okay so does a power plant. The pipes and myriad dials chrome and rust in some places and the foreignness of it all. The hum of mysterious origin. The lady sits across from me and as she speaks I can hear the whole culture the pride and stoutness and love. The scarves
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Icon on: December 19, 2018, 05:33:49 PM
The tiny picture frame the dark purple the luminescent green that seems to emanate like Daliís green a tangible radiant mysterious and soothing green. The green light shining in the snow on Christmas Eve the tiny stoplight with changing colors a gift from my uncle I took it outside it was dark and snowing and the red and yellow and green shone without warmth in the night but it was an explosion for me the delicious burning cold of the night the party inside with our family my grandparents my brother my parents and my uncles and aunts but there I was all by myself squatting in the one and a half inch of snow, completely mesmerized by the lights my brown hair getting damp with melted snow and my corduroy pants with patches on the knees draping around my legs my little fingers handling the plastic contraption the holy moment and above the clouds the stars and the icon has them too precision painted yellow piercing against the glowing blue like itís backlit and the halo of the Christ a peace comes over me and the cool sheets and a little wooden shelf the  back fastened with a screw that long ago penetrated the soft sheetrock and hasnít moved since gravity steadily pulling down and pushing gently and the hairs on my head growing slowly but the screw static and fixed and yet made of the same material my hair does it make a sound as it grows the tiny molecular machines that serve inside building day and night and up and up it goes and a smile is a hundred muscles an acidic contraction a blessing as old as humans as old as love did that feeling exist in prehistoric times a volcano erupting and two t rexíes their eyes meet and itís love. Letís make babies and she gives birth to a huge egg and x-rayed the proud parents see the shado
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Dream Catcher on: December 09, 2018, 03:12:55 PM
In the darkness I can barely make out the flimsy and eerie structure swinging gently from its nail in the ceiling. The darkness is black but after my eyes slowly get used to it I see the faint dark blue contours of the rooftops across the street, through the windows the night sky with stars and here a cacaohony of dramas play out like ants in an anthill. We mill around on this globe in sort of two dimensions and itís always Iím here sheís here can I get to her will she come to me if I donít call will she and then beyond thereís an impossible large void or almost void like a void but God left crumbs behind a planet here a star there with mostly space in between and here I am lying in the dark wondering if sheís seeing another guy right now or if sheís thinking of me my bed seems to sink through the floor and down down Iím swallowed by the vast earth and the earth is the tiniest pebble and Iím soit out and I get to see it all the cold space and the impossible lights they were right it is beautiful and kind of frightening and the girl is forgotten but now I know what love is because I feel the whole creation is made of it and itís my own mind that throttles itself itís much easier and more interesting to try and consider it all at the same time free my mind ah to float around here I long to come back to earth with a lighter mind be gracious uncondemming donate to charity lose my wallet and shrug it off with a smile. Take the blame to cool somebody off just to make it race the oil in the water smoothly and effectively dampening the spirits and the tempers like peaks in a amass spec I squash them down and they become insignificant and the miracle of gravity I can feel the slight weight of the phone and itís incredible why is it constantly pulling down why itís maddening am I pushing up I must be so the same is true for my feet and the floor and a c
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Plastic on: December 06, 2018, 12:47:02 AM
The black smoke is thick and billowing the smell stabbing my nose and I watch the turret sink into the green chassis and I imagine oil burning perhaps at sea. The power and magnificence of it and the chessboard with its straight lines and the wild chaos of a contender in a t shirt amid the suits and ties and the straight lines and the concentration like burning fires sitting on top of stems. Calories burned per second and the air is stilted and comforting outside itís damp but the rows of tables and chairs and people playing. The sound clack whoop clack whopp and the chairs creak and magnus is wearing a blue suit and his body scrunched then floppy then his face agile then wolffish and the air is thin and the snow is crunchy under my foot I look across the canyon at the next peak and the snow like a postcard looks so inviting and silky and the cool air gets thinner like in a scale predictable like a monk predicting impossible facts and the orange robe and round glasses and implacable smile and the still air of bengal mountains and a lone sitar playing with tabla Iím transported not away but inside myself to a peaceful and yet purposeful place where God is one with us and we with everything I can feel Him inside and I feel I am Him and that thereís a power I canít even think straight about and the sitar is an expression of this of the love but also is that same power the music and instruments so well suited to this task to devotion and I see the master leaving and I run up to him and ask him to teach me I want to make those sounds I want to learn it and the dusty plains and wild maddening crowds and the peace and the violence I can take it all in that twang like a fine mist being pierced with a
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cable on: December 04, 2018, 04:06:07 AM
The bridge is old and as I look ahead along the wooden planks and walk slowly I notice how dead and immediate my footfall sounds how intimate as if Iím a secret admirer plotting my approach in a deserted street. But stand still and you hear dozens like mine itís a secret society of footsteps and voices not subdued but still muffled to almost stillness and the fog disembodied them from their carriers sets them loose to find ears in any direction and for their origin to be hidden then immediately lost. The wood looks dry and in between the planks are lengths of steel or some such and the massive cables that hold the bridge disappear just a few dozen feet in the air. The air and water molecules inexplicably thicken and the sensation of moisture in the air I stick my tail up in the air sitting in a tiny mound of sand and after several hours the vaguely humid winds bring enough moisture that a drop of condensation forms on its tip. The drop ambles down my back and into my mouth and I am on my way to find a scrap of something edible, completing my dinner. The barren windswept hills are my world and Iím not afraid because I know treasures are hidden below every grain of sand and the tablecloth is white as the purest silk and she sits across from me she doesnít care if the gift of jewelry was cheap sheís happy to wear it just because I gave it to her and she looks beautiful and I am so proud and happy and we emit the newly in love glow and everybody is friendly and accommodating to us and itís a small town but we find everything charming and new and hope this will last forever this feeling of devil may care this is the best road trip and the evening is young and the place slowly drains the locals go home early only the outoftowners stay behind
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Administrator please - new words on: December 04, 2018, 03:47:55 AM
Dear Admin,
The two past words fish and umbrella were being th word of the day last month. Might you upload some new ones please?

Many thanks,
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Wine on: December 01, 2018, 07:47:29 PM
Sauceyyy yeah:)
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Leaves on: December 01, 2018, 04:34:21 PM
Theyíre brown and crispy like potato chips and the wind is bitter and dry. The grass is frozen and a dull green. I run over to the pile and throw myself into it my little body in free fall for a precious couple of tenths of a second. Then as I lay there buried I move my arms and legs and enjoy the rustling sound and the feeling of the tight space encroaching on all sides. Thereís no real smell and the leaves compete with the synthetic fibers
On my jacket for sound effects. My gloves are large motorcycle gloves with red liner and I flex my fingers and earlier my birthday party was held and a particular layered cake with strawberries whipped cream and the soft and full heavily sugary and delicious cake with marinated strawberries so fresh. It enters my mouth and the taste buds come alive and cascades of molecules activate salivation and other glands and the sugar and other nutrient content trigger cohorts of other enzymes and the chewed food glides down into my oesophagus and the sounds of the other kids are muted here but still clearly audible. Each pair of red cheeks lending its own frequencies and cacaohonic interactions sitting at green tables with paper on them and you can take crayons and draw on it and many kids do secret runes of love and play two kids are experiencing a silent mo
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