Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

November 17, 2019, 08:33:00 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 / Clip on: October 29, 2019, 12:46:40 PM
Clip - 10/29/19
   Bent back sliver of carefully constructed metal. Slipped between the layers of hair on her head. Bright red, like a hot rod’s paint job. A touch of personality on a pallet of black. Matching lipstick, a monotone photograph with nobly painted accents. Rain pattering on the coffee shop window. She looks out, eyes heavy and bored. Sleep coming in waves, caffeine barely effective, she sips again to power herself through. A textbook by her right hand, thick with thousands of pages. Dull and uninteresting, so unlike the faces that meander past. Each tells a different story in the light rain, hoods and umbrellas up or down to escape or embrace the water. Eye contact made before it swims away again, attention spooked by recognition. A tiny smile curls along her face, lips parting slightly as she takes another sip. Smooth, scalding milk and espresso, stimulating the nerves and quelling her urge. Droplets continue to plink out chords, like a lonely piano player, the glass resonates with her soul.
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Helmet on: October 28, 2019, 01:47:20 PM
   Heavy breathing under a metal frame. A set of external teeth bared to the cold world outside. Frost gathered on the tips of emerald green grass. His eyes are focused, competition turned to frustration. Contact made with a foe of opposite colors. White pants smeared with crushed grass and cold mud. Poised to move, faster than a blink, time slowed down upon the pregnant moment. The air seems to rest, the steam rising from his lips crystalizes and stops. He hears the shout before it’s called. Sense faster than sound, his body reacts before his ears. Fists balled, eyes wide, pushing himself against a mirror. A slam, the lights dance in his eyes, a familiar vision of progress. His team is a pack of wolves, hair bristled, pushing into an opposing pack’s territory. Snarls released among ragged breathing, a hiss against the mouth guard. Fingers formed into frightening claws, gripping with lycanthropic might. Clothing almost straining against the transformation, tears revealing the beast within. The sun low in the sky, not yet strong enough to erase the presence of the moon.
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Ship on: October 14, 2019, 01:30:58 PM
   Crashing ocean waves on the side of a well worn hull. Treated wood, cut and curved, bathed in oils and transformed. It creaks, like the back of an old tired soul. The sails sag down from beams, catching just enough of the wind to create some movement. The water splashes up into the deck from below, salted sea spray finding itself on the faces of the haggard crew. Smiles long turned down, their faces are muted and voices are weak. The voyage is long and listless, the waves create mundanity and they’re left with nothing on their minds. Collectively, the void speaks, rumbling from below deck, minds resonating in tune with the abyss. Knees scraped and cut with wooden shards, the memories of shipwrecks of old. Husks of people, forever changed, the scent of hope has been replaced. Alcohol running dry, even simple pleasures are not to be enjoyed, faces hanging low with shame, forgetting precisely who they should be. Crackle of lightning from above, the pattering of sudden rainfall on the dusty deck...
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Shovel on: September 27, 2019, 01:40:21 PM
   A single, sudden crunch as the sharp metal blade pierces the earth. Stabbing relentlessly into the mud, slicing through crunchy leaves and crawling insects. They run and hide away, boring holes in the opposite direction of the disturbance. Faces forward, heart beat in his hands, rough rugged calluses push against the wood grain. A stomach that stays silent, even without sustenance, it knows that complaining will do nothing. Muscles wrapped around bone, gripping tight on to the backs of shoulders with ropey assuredness. Again, plunge and lift, the dirt retaliates with a stone, chipping the honed edge of the tool. The vibrations resonate into his bones, fingers numbing to the sensation as he repositions and lifts again. Sweat streaming from under the eyes, lips pulled down in a grimace. He’s found a place, perfect on a hill. The lone tree above him quakes and clacks with each gust of twilight wind. The sun is red and moribund, perching gingerly on the western cliffs. Oak with padded walls, entombed by luxury, solace for a dead woman...
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Thermostat on: September 17, 2019, 12:46:49 PM
   Power in the hands, a matter of degrees, comfortable is subjective. Room temperature leaves sweat stains on t-shirts, humidity seeping in from the outside. A snowstorm pushes through the vents, the house whirs in response. Rumbling under your feet, the carpet responds with a soft caress. Digging toes into the fabric like summertime sand, the cool air refreshing like pink lemonade. One more degree lower, just one more, speed the process, the room is too warm. Freeze the sweat on the back of the neck, punishing it for existing. Change the seasons with a click of a button, the numbers continually lower. Warm winds from outside can’t touch us here in safety. We sit and wait for the winter to come, the summer runs outside to join its friends. Trees wilt, melting into puddles of bark and pine. Their dogged ears droop low to the ground. Rubber tires stick to black asphalt, binding together to become inseparable. Concrete…
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Flag on: September 16, 2019, 01:17:46 PM
   Gentle fluctuations in the wind, dancing in nature, flowing like a waltz, mixture of stresses and releases. The edges are frayed, tiny strands beginning to unwind as rain and blistering wind scratch at its surface. A constant pinging, heavyset rope and metal chains slamming against its own structure. Creating its own rhythm, in tune with nature, a gentle tone fills the air. The scent of pine, trees rustle in unison, their stationary shimmy must be related. Sun overhead, asking carefully why, the cool breeze is overpowered by baking rays on forest dirt. Tiny needles cover the ground, they lie in rest as captive audience members, cuddling close to each other for comforts. Stabbing little follicles, pressing against the bottom of bare feet, they bend under pressure, but don’t give up without a fight. Soft crunching and winces of pain, the corner of their mouth tightening up. Fold themselves away, out to lunch, escaped from the status quo. The flag watches…
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Scarf on: September 15, 2019, 04:02:56 PM
   Warmth, glowing fabric of countless fibers. Linens brushing against frost bitten cheeks. The scent of fresh snow, dry on the inside of your nostrils. Chapped lips protected by a thin layer of balm, hoping that the dull, bothersome pain unacquaints with you soon. Paired together, the bone chilling wind pierces like knives against concrete. A strong shiver, losing balance and taking over. Pushed away by the urge to sprint, to escape from the blizzard created by your own mind. The sound of a cracking campfire plays in the back of your hood, distant memories of summer and camping and marshmallows wrap your brain in a scarf. It cradles you, your eyes not present at all, they see without seeing, and your feet already know where to do. Destinations pass, a consciousness decision to forget. Names and place that float by, never to be seen again. A quandary, how many shops and places exist in a city, but our habits take us somewhere familiar. Signs and graphics flashing in neon go unnoticed by consciousness as we float towards initial destinations. Alone in the crowd, headphones blasting so that not even the…
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Flood on: September 14, 2019, 04:20:36 PM
   Waves smashing against the sediment, dredging up darkened roots and removing weeds. Bits of foliage, free floating, buoys in a brown ocean. Much and dirt mixed with the essence of life, memories soaked by freezing water. The rain pours, making the surface look like rapids. Plinking with the loudest possible snare drum roll. A car begins to creak, the water pushing against the metal, pulling at its wheels and inching it ever closer to the current. The back lifts, as if a giant hand gripped the bumper, threatening to flip it entirely. Water in the carpet, only the sunglasses in the center console managed to keep dry. An air freshener nervously swings back and forth, it’s scent easily washed away by the earthen waters that have infiltrated the car seats. A few moments pass, a pulling in the gut, the sensation right before the first drop, but the drop never comes, sweat pouring from the temples, elevated adrenaline and dilated pupils. A single point of contact, rubber holding on by its fingernails, they bend back against the rough concrete before a slam from behind…
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Tile on: September 13, 2019, 01:36:16 PM
   She finds herself in the grout, deep in the darkened stain. Rough, scratchy, chipping nails and pinching skin. Folds herself in between so hide away from the straining lights, they buzz incessantly like angry neon. Fluorescence baked into her skin, on top of the first layer, a membrane of linoleum, essence of self placed for all to view. Ruby red hand dazzles the mirrors, waltzing into curled ringlets on her shoulders. A smile, like a lie. Teeth bared in contentedness or in discomfort, her hazel green eyes tell the truth. Bruises on her neck, sucked into existence, fingertips solemnly covering them before the adhesive attaches. Chilling down to the ribs, a shiver takes over, bringing her to the ground, the lights are buzzing again, flaring, blazing, hotter than the sun in the sky, it looks down with knowing judgement, it sees when you try to hide. Behind her, in what could barely be a shadow, in the tiniest cracks under settled tiles, it lurks once more, waiting for that buzzing to stop. Opportunity. Though she does not know it, the inauthentic light is a friend, it flares in response to something worse, something darker, pieces of ceramic settling into dust as it makes its way in…
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Collar on: September 12, 2019, 12:46:18 PM
   Wrapped around the neck, a button latched closed. Pieces of silken cloth gripping like inanimate fingertips. Brush gently against the freshly shaven stubble, the sound of Velcro being ripped. Dress shirts and expensive ties, the means to success, the next moves are easy, following the path until the end. Hand over hand, tying into knots, legs bent at all odd angles. Heart beating, skin slick with affirming sweat, a place of safety, if only for precious moments. Leather latched by a metal buckle, lips slightly parted. Words mean nothing, a fire lit between rib cages. Generating heat, a blast of hope from the edges of the bedsheet, together with no one to see. Brightening lights from the horizon, a thinly glimmer turning to dust, the trees shaking in the morning breeze as a unison is caught in our throats. Cast into the lake, the surface is a mirror, shattered by metal hooks and lead lures. Thrust in by gravity’s unconditional hands, a slap against the gentle surface. Wolves howl in the distance, they never knew that they might be the subject, a leash held by the master to keep them at bay. The forest is a blameless place, strewn innards and the harshness of existence taken for commonplace. Ritually devoured by the cycle unending. Teeth gnashing against bones, cracking and shattering in every place. The marrow ooz…
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Lagoon on: September 10, 2019, 12:34:30 PM

Swirling pools and salty shale, pushed together by waves and rocks, sand burying long lost treasures as waves explode across the shade. Clouds looming overhead, their tears burgeoning like a wet sponge, prepared to empty itself on the earth. Dark spots on the man made concrete, tree oils springing into the air, taken over the road with speed limit signs and bent metal. Raindrops on the car’s canvas, an accidental press of the convertible’s button, water soaking into the binding of red pleather. Jeans are ripped and dark with sweat or blood, rain passing the eyes, scoured with cuts and bruises. A single breath, slow, faltering, the wind passes, the carburetor clicks. Twisted metal begins to rust, without even consciousness to scream, helpless until the sight is seen, with not even the sun to view the deed. Electric yellow paint attracts the feeder fish, they swim curiously to warmer waters, their gills filling with rainbow liquid, they don’t even know what’s bad for them yet. Pushed towards the edge of the water, they find the final warmth. A face locked in a state of bliss, but only from upside down. It rests, a seatbelt clinging to his collared shirt, a tie strapped to the neck by aggravated force. The end of the story rests in rust, time unkind to sitting mistakes, chipped stones and shredded rubber, a death to be seen once the sun comes out of hiding.

12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Elm Tree on: August 24, 2019, 07:19:04 PM
Elm Tree
   Spindly arms with extended fingers, reaching out to grip the morning mist, razor-like blades cutting through the time of day. Thin and lithes, the wind shakes it freely, the branches clacking together in hollow harmony. Fallen leaves slowly root, their change from green to brown to grey, they turn to mulch and fibrous powder. Wood shavings and dried leaves, the dirt is seasoned with yesterday’s trash, pieces of fallen critters and nature. Broken pieces of broken animals, they slowly revert to dark, fur rotting away in tiny chunks, the mold takes hold and sucks the proof of life from them. Biological jelly, the walls begin to break down, a slow diminishment into a natural paste. The nearby highway shouts fog horns, vehicles angry with the low visibility. Cars blazing by fifteen above the limit, scattering roadkill across the nearby field. A rogue factor, the two-lane artery of humanity. Deer, fox, racoon, they lose their life to ambition, attempt to beat out a ten ton death machine at eighty miles an hour. Slamming into the side, powderized animal. Bones crushed into nubs crackling in every place like bubble wrap. Final destiny, it’s gone. The flicker of life is blown out by burning rubber. Goes with a scream and a streak of black, an empathetic thought that sticks with them until the car was. Blood cleansed from metal, red and raw, chunks of meat swing from the front...
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Flip Flop on: August 19, 2019, 08:33:38 AM
Glad to be able to provide something that you connect with! Thanks!
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Kimono on: August 19, 2019, 08:32:12 AM
   Royal garb dyed in loud purple. Shimmering like fish’s scales under the bright intent of stage lights. The dress shouts, screaming attention and flair with a confident grin. Lips upward facing, the stitching curls into crescent teeth. A single laugh, the accent of a patterned accessory. Tiny pink flowers attached via needle and thread. Natural stems growing into fabric, taking root and sustaining on aura alone. Vibrant like acrylic paints, popping out against an already loud ensemble. A show of craftsmanship, pieces of fabric articulated into a symbol of beauty. Developed straight from scratch, hand crafted entirely. Manufactured by hands holding hate, the beauty shown is entirely situational. A single moment in the rage, eyes glaring elegance into existence. Lips curled downwards, angry sweat forming on the brow. Energy imprinted into an item, fury crafted. The thunder rumbles the old wood of the shop, the vibrations match the dissatisfaction of the creator’s life. Missing the freedom one desires all too often. Latching onto an essence of change...
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Shelf on: August 18, 2019, 02:11:01 PM
   Glasses clinking together, rumbling in the walls. Sickly green mason jars shiver in their place, each singing a little song in dissonant harmony. Whispers to each other in chirps, the master is coming. Footsteps far below, waves spread into the surroundings. Footprints into the puddles, the water was left on for too long. A single impact leaves rings that emanate from the center. A hole that goes to the shins, dark waters colored with dirt and car oil. Shimmering on the surface with gasoline, the swirling, sickening color of man’s greatest downfall. Edges of jeans, soaked to the bone, rubbing against leg hair in irritating fashion. Wriggling in the back of the head, a minor annoyance, the thoughts grip at the edges of consciousness. Fingers grasping at the thoughts, but they turn and run, sprinting into the wind between our finger tips. Barely missed the grapple, sand through our arms, blown dust into our eyes. The sound of a blink making a crunch, squeezing grain out of eyelids. Scraping against the surface of sensitivity. Hardened over, the tears don’t fall, dried in our bodies, already used the reserves. Water to our lips, take our place on the shelf again. Climb into the cupboard and assume the fetal position. Slink into the dark and sing your little chirps of fear, shoulders patting against those of similar kind. Alone together, in the shadow...
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