Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

June 26, 2019, 02:31:55 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 / Mop on: June 02, 2019, 06:49:09 PM
Tiny, slithering beads of sweat weave between the follicles of my mop as I jog through air so thick with humidity it's like running from monsters in a dream. My hair bouncing like bird wings above my ears. The cotton yarn of the mop, heavy with engine grease, oil, and grit. The water's surface bejewelled in rainbow scum as I plunge the matted rag-doll hair into the bucket and squeeze the temples in the miniature garbage truck compactor. It's satisfying, like pressing playdough through a pasta-machine. It smells like burnt rubber and lemony, sunshine dish soap. No bubbles, as if these frivolous creatures know to steer clear of this industrial wasteland. Running into the...
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Sunglasses on: June 01, 2019, 04:06:03 PM
They pull at the collar of my shirt like a noose I've cut down and left as a tie. Like a secret agent, I casually flick them open and slide them up the bridge of my nose. In the marine industry, everyone is supposed to have eyes like microscopes. My eyes are like looking through heavy-base whiskey tumblers, a swirly collidoscope sixties vibe. As long as the sun shines, incinerating the world around into blurry waves of heat that weave up into the air like a crowd of ghost worms, I can play my dressup game. Like a one way glass,  these sunglasses protect the world from my eyes. I'm plunged again into blurriness as water and soap does a backflip off the shiny fiberglass side of the ship and rains down on my glasses like a swarm of hornets. Keep going...
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Circus on: May 28, 2019, 02:51:34 AM
A stampede of horses, charging through a large shallow pond. The rushing splashing water leaps to life as feathery dancers around the horses hooves. The smell of hay mixed with their rich sweet sweat fans out over the audience stunned by the flooded stage of horses. Monkey bars and ornate, twisted poles descend from the ceiling. My fingers curl around the flecks of chipping paint still left on the school playground as I lunge out across the lava. My legs swing like the limbs of a marionette being vigorously yanked into a dance. My tongue feels leathery and dry...
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / String on: May 28, 2019, 02:40:58 AM
String Straightedge and shadow. Garden tools lying against a weathered cedar shed in the white yellow spaces between the shadows. Cottonwood fluff drifts through the air like slow motion confetti as flies, bees, and moths wonder through this summer wonderland. The string that holds the peones upright has crusted over with years of rain and dust, and some insect has coated a few inches of the cotton with a shell of tiny white eggs. I sit on the back porch, lost in thought, my left hand still chording the guitar glinting in the sun. The fretboard and strings under my fingertips are now sweaty.
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Wine Glass on: May 25, 2019, 11:15:46 PM
We'd examine each glass for the chip or crack that would catch on a lip. For the snare or pit hidden around base that would slice a finger, leading to sticky, oxidized finger prints coating the stem and glass where they'd blur into the red lipstick marks and flecks of dried skin at the rim. All the dirty work of a pernicious razor, crouching along some ragged edge of the glass like a black widow spider hiding at the bottom of a glove. A spider waiting for the fruit flies that clumsily float into to the sharp, acidic, vinegary remnants of a thick cabernet sauvignon - rings of evaporation left up the side of the glass wall, like bands of seaweed and driftwood on a beach. Wine poured in gushing, sloshing cup-fulls from a box into solo cups...
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Wheel on: May 24, 2019, 07:04:29 PM
Like tiny fly swatters, the rubber spines on the sides my bicycle wheel tick past my finger as I spin the tread around and around. I hear the ratcheting sound. It's like the sped up tick-tocking of an analogue clock. I'm late for work. Sweat is starting to roll down my back collect on along the waistband of my underwear as I peddle hard up a steep hill, my tires skidding out on the remaining gravel they pepper on the mashed potatoes of last winter's slushy snow. Giant mounds of cold, congealed spuds lining the streets, heavily salt-n-peppered. In this summer's sun, those cold banks of snow quickly slip through my mind like an ice cube skating across a metal countertop. Now, there aren't any tread marks, like the impressions of fork tines, from the great black tires of the plows...
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Gondola on: May 20, 2019, 07:26:19 PM
Our bright, frolicking voices sing some song whose french title looks like "Gondola". The dust in the old band room seems ever present - maybe the dust comes out of the giant aluminum HVAC worms coiling in and out of the ceiling overhead. It's like their breath is dust. And their bellies rumble as their sides expand with warm and cold air. We feed off of the air they hork up. And we sing. Watching the twisting, slicing arms of our director. Feeling the vibrating rumbles in our own guts and exhaling the dust back out. Outside the door, the janitor rattles by on the floor-polishing zodiac - whizzing and whirling across the tiled highschool floors. The school never smells clean or fresh. It smells like wet carpet...
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Frame on: May 19, 2019, 03:56:42 PM
The sun blares through the golden-green foliage illuminating kids frolicking and running through beams and shadows. My index finger torques sideways on the trackpad as I select the best pixels to keep. With a swirl of pinkish white and long graceful limbs, the ballerina lands on the black, painted stage floor. Cool under the barefeet, that stage has been repainted so many times it looks like drippy, uneven tar slopped onto pilons at the marina. A trickle of salty water running over my tongue announces the slippery, fatty, stringy oyster. It falls out of the roughness of the shell and slides along my tongue to the back of my mouth. A hint of lemon trailing behind.
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Change on: May 19, 2019, 04:34:24 AM
I look down at my feet; the sun glints off of the coins strewn across the fluffy black lining of my guitar case. The djembe twangs and gongs as my brotherís hands leap and fall like the mesmerizing rhythmic galloping of horses hooves. My right index finger is hot and bleeding from accidently smashing into the metal strings too many times. The tips of left fingers are tender and raw. We can barely hear ourselves over the sounds of revving of car engines. There is the faint smell of gas and exhaust fumes as occasional clouds brush up against us. ...
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Notebook on: May 19, 2019, 04:32:52 AM
Lounging on our trampoline in the shade of the giant cottonwood trees in our backyard, while their dry leaves flutter and rattle in the balmy gusts of wind. Above them, a rich blue sky fades into a misty white as it cascades from the zenith down to the mountains. I turn over onto my belly and press my face into the trampoline mesh, my nose scrunching up like Iím making a funny face at someone through a cafe window. The mesh smells musty, like old pollen, microscopic moss, and the years of rain and snow. Darkened by the fabric, and curled up in the long uncut grass, is our black lab. Her head is nestled neatly on her paws. My nose starts to hurt. I turn over, which makes my yellow pencil roll down into the crater my knee is making. I fumble and crack it in half as...
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Ski Lift on: May 19, 2019, 04:32:00 AM
The slack in the ski lift slowly bounces, like the rolling waves on the sea, and I feel the lurching swing as the lift tilts forward and back, threatening to dump us into the sky below us. A prickly, dizzy wave of shivers courses through my toes and fingers as I imagine the free falling from that height. In the summer, I hammered thick, twisting nails through a odd scraps of wood; a little shiny drip of sap collecting around the nails sinking into the flesh of the tree. My calves would start to tremble from balancing on some makeshift ladder. The ruff flecks of metal glued to the  galvanized nails I am lightly holding in my lips. The heat of the setting sun on the back of my neck and streaming through my ears, making them hot and glow a mottled red colour. My nose inches from the piney dripping sapÖ

12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Chandelier on: May 13, 2019, 08:29:17 PM
Bright, jangling prisms hang above my grandmother's dining room table. My molars wrestle with dry turkey as I contemplate slurping from the gravy boat, but imagine the sudden silence and glares my desperation would garner.  The drippy-nose cousin sitting beside me is incapable of eating without scraping is teeth along the tines of his fork. My eye twitches like an echo after each bite. The hairs on my neck stand up before I suddenly jolt as stealthy cat twists through my legs and I accidently snort the water I had been sipping back into my glass, little strings of turkey meat swirl and dart in my now cloudy water. I excuse myself, my socked feet sticking to the carpet like velcro until they begin soaking up invisible puddles on the kitchen tiles. The water from my glass sloshes down the sink drain, bringing the chunks of onion and lettuce and who-knows-what back to life as they dizzily wander around the bottom of...
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Matchbox on: May 13, 2019, 07:37:24 PM
Balming down the highway, gusts of wind slamming through the wide open windows. My hair ruffles and flutters across my forehead as if, perched atop my head were a squirming, convulsing cat. The humming buzz of the softening rubber tread clapping down across the top of each piece of gravel worn shiny by years of travel. Fresh manure, turned into the steamy earth by rattling tractors, waffs across the road like ghosts seeping out from long slumbers in underground prisons. I crank the radio. The knob ratchets between my thumb and index. The slow sweep of the wah pedal on the electric guitar entices the drums to break loose from their stable. 'Disease' by Matchbox Twenty rattles the dashboard and tickles the hairs on my left calf as I...
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Curtain on: May 13, 2019, 07:26:54 PM
Hey marksy! Thank you. I definitely approached this entry a bit differently than I normally do. Less pressure to have a narrative or single event and more awareness on the associations between ideas. It was fun to write. Smiley
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Curtain on: May 11, 2019, 05:49:33 PM
What a vivid and harsh picture! It felt sinister at times. The line "thick curtains hang like armor" stood out. I think most people probably think of an archetypal curtain as light and billowing, so this opening line created intrigue and maybe even set the scene that something was "off" or spooky. I also really like the sweet transition from shifting lantern light on the plastered wall to the brighter memory of fishing and then back into the foreboding feeling with that last line: "Now he feels like the worms on the hooks impaled by helplessness, waiting to be eaten alive by some gaping black maw of a monster's mouth."

The clearest and most visceral line for me was: "screeching and grinding over thin metal and rusting rails." It conjured up a lot of sound as well as textures.

The line "blackness pokes and prods at the womb like edges of the soft orange glow" made me think. The image I saw once I took a moment was awesome. It just took me a moment to see it. I think that's partly because the image inverts the way I typically see a candle in darkness, which is where the light pokes outwards and sharp slivers of light stream away. But I love the way having the blackness poking back in on the glow animates the dark and gives it more of a stifling, pressing quality. Keep it up!
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