Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

March 24, 2019, 03:04:41 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 / Re: Plate on: March 20, 2019, 07:21:54 AM
A white disk, carefully placed on a colourful field on the table. Surrounded by silverware in a military precision, it waits like a faithful soldier to serve it purpose for the day. It is Sunday and they will come to visit, they always do on Sundays. She woke up early as always, but today her dull routine they call life is sprinkled with a dash of excitement, she has a purpose. Plates are laid on the table, the good silverware are polished and ready, crystal glasses like watchtowers inspecting that everything is in perfect harmony. In the kitchen next door a perfectly organised chaos, everything must be ready when they arrive. Smells of bread and roast beef and gravy fill the room, the kids like roast beef. Now everything is ready, and she smiles as she moves to the bedroom to put on her nicest clothes to match her biggest smile. They sill soon be here. Her loved ones, her life.
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Jump rope on: March 14, 2019, 07:25:59 AM
Yeap, Rocky is an instant association with the jump rope for me too!
I guess you saw it through the eye of the tiger  Grin
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Box on: March 14, 2019, 07:22:59 AM
Square, cardboard wrapped with a fancy coloured paper with bright colours. Above it a Christmas tree, providing shade from the blinking lights. A fireplace rests quietly in the background, charcoals sleeping after their fiery show a few hours ago. I am in my armchair across the room, enjoying the silence and the dim light of the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in my hand. I look through the glass and everything gets a golden overtone, slightly distorted through the golden liquid inside. A smell of smoked wood tickles my nose and my mind rushes back to how it felt to be a child on Christmas Eve, the excitement of opening a present, tearing anxiously through the wrapping paper to see what is inside.
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Jump rope on: March 13, 2019, 08:41:33 AM
She laughs down the pavement, a smile in her face that makes the spring around her jealous. Golden hair and pink ribbons, two ponytails that dance carelessly in a silent music. White pavement stones between her feet  and the rays of the afternoon sun on her face, lighting up every freckle. In her hands a jump rope, and she jumps over it as she walks, a small jump every two steps, a rhythm in her head that only she can hear. Soft taps from her shoes in the pavement are like a unique dance pattern, tap tap step, tap tap step, tap tap step.. She is happy. She is finally herself, she finally just doesnít care for the judgemental looks, the whispers, the gossip that gathers around peopleís heads as she hops down the road. So what if she is not young anymore, this is what makes her happy now, now she is just herself. Tap tap step, tap tap step, the sound of happiness, the sound of being yourself, the sound of freedom.
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Comb on: March 12, 2019, 09:56:50 AM
A grey prison cell with a grey soul inside. Moonlight slips from the small barred window, a tiny spotlight bringing to life all the thoughts that reside within, thy Whys, Hows and What-ifs that have been haunting the room forever. A simple mistake, a momentary misjudgement, like an exit from a highway that has no turning back. A wasted life from a single moment. In his hands a comb, his only company and condolence in this odyssey, with more than half of its teeth broken off. A crack and another tooth flies off, another month of life wasted, another step closer to the provisional freedom that follows. Just a few more to go
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Baseball hat on: March 11, 2019, 07:18:47 AM
Summer, a small boat and the wind in my face. I am driving the boat under the close supervision of the owner, and I am feeling as proud as a 10-year-old can be. A swimsuit, flip-flops, an open Hawaiian shirt and a baseball hat, turned backwards so the sea wind doesnít claim it as his own. My hands are gripping the steer, holding it with way more strength that they need but I have to be sure that it will not slip, I am trusted with steering the boat, I cannot make any mistakes. My eyes in the horizon, steady, bright colours all around me in shades of blue and green. I can see the shore but other than that nothing is around us. I breathe deep and feel the salt in the air, short splashes of sea on my face and the sun warming my skin. Below us, the gentle roar of the old motor and the splashing of the waves on the boat - every now and then a seagull shouts.
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Key on: March 08, 2019, 09:15:56 AM
A small heart locket is around her neck, bouncing rhythmically against her soft white skin as she walks. A small silver chain, fragile like her holds it in place, with a small silver key hanging right next to it. The key also has a heart shape in the handle, and as she walks it reflects the sunlight in miniature flashes. Below it, a purple sweater, slightly worn out from days or use, but it is her favourite, it makes her feel at home. She keeps walking, carelessly, looking at the stores, the passengers, the cars in the road and she smiles to everything, a small burst of light and colour in a grey world. She reaches up and touches the locket, and she remembers last night, how he held her in his hands and all the world just didnít matter anymore. A kiss and the first time he told her he loves her, his eyes looking deep into hers, and she could see in his eyes how much he means it. Another kiss.
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Flag on: March 07, 2019, 10:17:19 AM
Green grass under my feet and heavy rain pouring from the sky. It washes down my face, running down my hair and covering up the tears. A black suit covers me, and a black soul within me feeling empty and numb. Around me people walk, talk, cry, but to me its all a blur, time has stopped. My body cannot move, I just stay still, looking down. No thoughts, no feelings, just a void, an empty space that will follow me forever. Emptiness wrapped in a cloth folded in a triangular shape, with bright wet colours. This is all I have left now, a cheap replacement to what once completed my life. I cannot move, I donít want to. I donít care about anything any more,  not the rain, the cold, the speeches, the honours, the shiny stars and medals. The curtain has fallen. Nothing is more empty that this flag.
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Coffee on: March 06, 2019, 09:37:11 AM
Little drops of darkness fill the glass prison. Born to be immediately sacrificed, they breathe deeply and for a few moments dominate the air around them. A thick aroma, instantly distinguishable among any other scent, they smell of home and life and energy and inspiration. I instantly associate this smell with my armchair, a dimly lit room with the weak rays of the morning sun chasing the shadows away. The cushions embrace my body and my morning ritual of preparation for the day begins. Its these moments that Iíve grown to cherish more than any other now, my own private time, the coffee being the excuse I needed, the key to my own private garden where the most private thoughts live. A bitter sip and the journey begins. But itís not only the taste, itís the ritual. The cup warming my hands, the smell tickling my nose, the bubbles on the crema moving like small castaways in their miniature sea.


Good morning to all!
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Radiator on: March 03, 2019, 10:46:28 AM
Winter has finally decided to show its teeth, and everything is sleeping under a thick white blanket. Inside my room, a lonely radiator is trying its best to offer some consolation, he will stay up all night working to allow us to get some proper sleep. I lay at the edge of my bed with my feet outside its edges, touching the radiator. Thick socks protect me from burning and I enjoy this warming sensation I get. every now and then I change position so that different parts of my feet touch the warm surface. Some positions can get uncomfortable so I stay there a little time. My feet slip from the white shiny surface, I need to keep them up, a small price for the warmth I get. Soon I get sleepy, i get back under the thick blankets in the bed, my feet still feeling the warmth from their aluminium friend on the wall. I take a last look at the radiator as I close my eyes, it looks back at me, silent, motionless. ďGo to sleep, Iíve got thisĒ and I follow his suggestion.
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Fish on: March 02, 2019, 07:13:37 PM
Thousands of dancers in perfect harmony, a silver scowl against a deep blue canvas, constant movement, their shiny skin momentarily reflecting the light and the disappear in the vastness of the crowd. Round and round, like a fine tuned machine, instinct dictates all their movements. They need to keep moving, the predators are near and here in the depths there no hiding. Just keep moving, there safety in numbers, or at least a delay of the inevitable. For them thereís no yesterday, no tomorrow. Itís just today, survive, feed, reproduce. No emotions and no feelings, survival is the only objective. Survive and reproduce, keep the circle running. The show must go on.
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Leaves on: March 01, 2019, 07:21:45 AM
She was young, but still a little older than me. Adolescence had treated her nicely, and to my eyes, she always had a glow of perfection. Her smile, her movements, her voice. It was the summer I found out what it means to be in love. We would talk for hours and all I could think of was the softness of her lips, her golden hair gently brushing her shoulders, the deep green of her eyes. Cupidís first wound was a deep one. A wound covered by the rusting of dried leaves, summer passed and took her with it. Autumn, and she was in college, in a different town, leaving me with just the memory and the thoughts of what could have been. All our moments, all my dreams, now rusting leaves under the tree.
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Daisy on: February 28, 2019, 07:43:00 AM
A green sea littered with countless white spots. A gentle breeze invites them to dance, form wave after wave of synchronised movement like a perfectly orchestrated choreography. The sun is up and graciously offers its light and life to everything it touches. My hands feel the grass, I lie down and stroke the blades. Smell of fresh mixed with earth, nature wakes up. Bees fly around the daisies oblivious to the beauty, it all work for them. I breathe deep, deeper than I thought I could, and let the air out slowly. I want to keep this moment, forever. Everything is in perfect balance, the smell of grass, the white contrast of the daisies, the buzzing of the bees, the warmth of the sun, the gentle touch of the breeze. Bliss.
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Dragonfly on: February 27, 2019, 07:59:01 AM
Days spent missing my daughter.

This was very strong, and added a whole new perspective in the narrative until then.
Really liked it!
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Strings on: February 27, 2019, 07:54:20 AM
Time for fresh string on my guitar. I look at the old ones and they are lifeless, grime and sweat from hours of playing have left their mark. They feel a little sticky and their colour has changed. I imagine being very small, standing on the fretboard and looking up, like power wires left in the elements for years. Having a bird sitting on top would be really fun. I can even see the specs of dust stuck among the wounds of the string, it makes me feel dirty, feeling that if I touch it, it will also stick on me and never leave. I set the guitar on a bench and open the new pack of strings. Smell of new, fresh, unspoiled. I never new that metal could have a smell, but this is so distinct. Some lemon oil to complement the work and we are done. Now a whole new world under my fingertips, my fingers slide across the strings easily, no resistance. I can hear the slide of the fingers as I change chords, the strings are alive, they sing every note. I love the feeling of new strings.
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