Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

October 22, 2019, 02:45:06 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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 on: Today at 01:55:37 PM 
Started by CD - Last post by CD
Egg, I smell you, in your bacon grease bath- true aroma therapy! Tst, tst, tst, I hear joyful little coos from the black cast iron skillet, crusted with un-numberable tub rings, from morning rituals. Carefully I drizzle hot drippings over your yellow Buddha belly. Careful not to break it, careful not to disturb the lace, around your edges. Little crumbs of bacon adhere to your flesh, freckles of delightful anticipation. Careful again, I lift you gently from your warm, cozy nest to snuggle with other companions on a warm plate- toast, bacon, grits. You will love them, as you gently rub shoulders

 on: Today at 01:12:10 PM 
Started by Dschroeder2141 - Last post by Dschroeder2141
The gleam from the dinner table candles bounces off its smooth porcelain skin. A picturesque white stone sitting silently with a secret inside. Not sure if it bathed in its bubbly hot tub for the proper amount of time. Too short and the surprise with flow out like quick lava onto the plate. Sitting in its bath for too long and the inside will be drier than the sand in death valley. Such a finicky little thing. The symbol of life in more ways than one. As you push the fork down onto its soft milky skin it gives. It tries for one last second to hold from bursting its contents, but it is no match with the fork. The fork slices down like a knife through cold butter and the mystery is revealed. The mustard yellow yolk glacially oozes out signaling a perfect product. Before eating the smell reaches your nostrils and fills it with the thick aroma

 on: Today at 07:19:24 AM 
Started by Sarchen - Last post by Sarchen
Oblong, fitting perfectly in the crux of my hand, delicate, thin outer shell, strong to resist outside pressure as a whole. Yet, cracking easily if tapped in just one unique place. One click. One tap on the hardwood surface of the counter top and the cracks spread across the surface like cement breaking up during an earthquake. The pieces held together by the viscous thin inner film that coated the inside. I plunge one thumb into the gooey, cool centre to open it more, pulling apart the edges releasing the yellow yolk to tumble out into the waiting smooth glass bowl below. The round, sunny coloured orb glides back and forth like a skateboarder in a skate park, up and down one edge of the bowl then the other, freed but still trapped in the bubble of the clear, wobbling jelly that had been its home within a home until now.

 on: Today at 06:48:12 AM 
Started by JAS - Last post by Sarchen
that's beautiful!
i like how it ends with a feeling of intimacy
"so round and low tonight as if you are trying to get closer, timeless in the sky"

 on: Today at 12:33:34 AM 
Started by JAS - Last post by JAS
Cinnamon rock, warm golden brown and rust, folded into layers like a cake that has been made and added to over millions of years, I see the history in the lines of your growth, it makes me stop and wonder, dusty, sandy rock, how did you get here? The sound of sea gulls as they glide overhead owners of this land and sea, I am a visitor tasting the salty air and crunching along the bluff in my hiking shoes. Ancient rock i still don't understand, are you still growing and folding even now? moving in such small steps that I can't see it? The sea is carving you slowly, every storm you change shape and in some areas you are such a beautiful sculpture, no living artist could make you any more interesting, perfectly formed, eyes wide i keep looking, showing my friends as they also oooh and ahhh over your creativity and beauty, you make me feel quiet and you keep me warm with your sun soaked exterior, like a brick oven holding the heat. What now? More of the same? Are you shape shfting as the climate changes, with violent storms challenging you to stay strong?!  Is water or rock stronger, like in the game? Sometimes when I see  you shaped with holes like bubbles frozen in time I imagine you rolling down the hillside in hot lava streams of angry liquid, bursting from the earth, cutting your own path down the mountain,.  Maybe you did get here that way.  Otherwise I have no idea...

 on: October 21, 2019, 11:26:08 PM 
Started by marksy - Last post by marksy
Howling icy tempestuous wind moaning through the bent and distorted arms of the deciduous sentinel trees, standing guard over the nest balancing in the protruding rough fingers of an old gum. An egg audaciously placed by a disavowing mother, warm, smooth like river stone. Earthy spice wafting between trunks, the calluses on my fingers catch the splintering coarse bark and drag, cracking as its pulled off in distress. A disturbance of butterflies dancing deep in my gut as my eyes strain during moments of occluded moonlight when the earth goes dark and blurry. Smokey whisky lingering on the tip of my tongue like a diver into the river, careening my heart further…

 on: October 21, 2019, 01:31:29 PM 
Started by CD - Last post by CD
Stone, pebbles really and a few fossils mixed in, with cement mixed in around. There's a difference between concrete and cement and I don't remember or care. But the stones, around forever, forever round, and now forever underfoot in my driveway. I wonder where they come from. Do they groan under the weight of my car, or do they lean toward the street, like my dog at the window waiting for me to come home? Do they make nose prints on the sidewalk, that I could see if I just got close enough? When I walk out barefoot, I feel the pebbly bumps that slow me down, little speed bumps, and make me want to go faster with my task to get it over with quicker. I remember summers long ago and hardened stone-age feet with flinty bottoms that didn't flinch at black-top, now become baby feet, all wrinkly and pruny on the bottom and tender. The neighbors seal their driveway. You can smell it for days, can't hardly breathe. I never do. I may be lazy, but I wonder if maybe the little stones, that don't grow bigger with time, like the fresh air. Sometimes I see a hole, where a pebble has been, and is now free, to an afterlife after being a driveway, after being a riverbed, after being who knows what.

 on: October 20, 2019, 10:53:27 PM 
Started by JAS - Last post by marksy
"...the moon sits like a queen overseeing her kingdom..."

Wonderful simile! Perhaps the glistening stars are her resplendent jewels... Well done Smiley

 on: October 20, 2019, 10:46:48 PM 
Started by marksy - Last post by marksy
The stone is a runner, bouncing across the firm springing surface of the cold jelly body of water, stretching with each hammering step fervently, each skip diminishing as it whistles through the cool air in desperation to reach the green luscious warm sun bathed bank. My mind bouncing like the stone, like a kick-starting engine, as I wake up, my eyes foggy like the icy hovering white precipitation above the glistening water, but warm and sticky like the river pines oozing rivers of orange sap. Fresh mint and bold pine licking my nostrils on the grasping damp breeze. Sweetly singing lyrical natives lilting…

 on: October 20, 2019, 08:30:44 PM 
Started by jamsterdam06 - Last post by jamsterdam06
the day is strangely peaceful. the only sound you can hear is from the crunching of pebbles under the soles of her shoes. she took a deep breath inhaling the scent of pre-autumn leaves in the air. she was looking at the view of scattered cows on a vast carpet of green. a cow grazed down for the tips of the grass, looking bored. the jigsaw puzzles of black and white painted on its skin ruffled by the wind. its tail swishing, swatting buzzing flies on its back. its eyes, lazy. like the woman's footsteps as she continues to go through her walk, pushing the stroller with a sleeping baby on it.

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