Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

January 17, 2019, 03:36:32 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
Pages: 1 2 [3] 4 5 ... 10
 on: January 12, 2019, 05:46:18 PM 
Started by FunkySea - Last post by FunkySea
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

 on: January 12, 2019, 04:25:50 PM 
Started by Lowwraine13 - Last post by Lowwraine13
                       The alarm begins to go off as her hand slips from under the sheets and begins to rise up toward the night stand in search of the piercing morning time do sayer. Gravity takes a hold of her hand and brings it down just touching the off button. She pulls herself up and out of bed. A groggily walk toward the bathroom, her slippers gliding along the white tile, she finally makes it to the mirror. Looking up, she smiles. Through the smudges in the mirror and the questionable scratches, she see herself and feels charmed. She smiles. Her face gleaming, dimples showing, and teeth bright as ever. Her fingers find the handle of the comb as she grips onto it. She begins to work out the knots her hair has given to her in reward for a good night sleep.   

 on: January 11, 2019, 07:29:06 PM 
Started by John M - Last post by John M
in high school, the cool kids seem to wear them, some, worn in normal fashion, others are flipped around, totally backwards, i laugh at the idiots who wear them sideways, its like, what's the deal? makes me think of the intro to fresh prince, if one person on the planet could pull off a sideways hat, its will smith, prior to being a big-time movie star. in grade school we wore them in support of our favorite baseball team, red sox, yankees, if you were a close enough ally of mine, and good looking enough, and of the opposite sex, i'd have let you write on the inside of it, a flirtatious 'hello' or maybe some inside joke that was too inappropriate, thus needed to be hidden in the shadows beneath the visor, the hats always smelled like sweat and hair grease, hair would always fall out of my head and get caught in the base of the rim, id have to pluck them out like feathers one by one and scatter them to the wind, when it all comes down to it, its all about the curve, that perfect curve of the visor, that flawless semi-circle, even, smooth, no creases, bent precisely to the shape of my head, adding depth, dimension, and a mysticism to my look that couldn't  be accomplished otherwise, that's how i felt in the mirror at least, i don't think much of anyone else's hats, i doubt they they'd think twice looking at mine, yet, underneath, its full of secrets, numbers, names, inside jokes...

 on: January 11, 2019, 04:43:28 PM 
Started by FunkySea - Last post by FunkySea
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

 on: January 11, 2019, 01:58:37 PM 
Started by Lowwraine13 - Last post by Lowwraine13
Look at us looking back on the struggles
and all the waves that have crashed our beach
one thing has remained constant
Constant between you and me

The loads of compassion we have one another
That we've held onto since the early days
When leaning into one another for a polaroid
signified our lives were about to change

Oh I how remember those summers
Baseball filled the airs
I would run out of the dugout
Look to my left, into the fence, and you'd be there

The years have passed by quickly now
our skins a little worn
baseball hats and aging
are nothing to the love we've endured

 on: January 11, 2019, 12:48:18 AM 
Started by Lowwraine13 - Last post by Lowwraine13
                   Night time had fallen on the streets of St. Louis. The lamps lit up the parts of the sidewalk you try to remain in. My black shoes tapping away in the deathly quiet outskirts of the city. Accompanied by the occasional buzzing of the lamp light and bugs leaving the warmth of the fluorescent glow. The drifting echo of police sirens reminded me that I wasn't too far away. I was heading into the rustle of it all. My black trench coat hung low over my bottom, my hat hung low just over my eyes, and my hands tucked in the pockets still getting hit by the occasional chill blowing in off the mississippi. I was on a mission..

 on: January 11, 2019, 12:45:57 AM 
Started by John M - Last post by John M
thanks low!

 on: January 11, 2019, 12:28:20 AM 
Started by John M - Last post by Lowwraine13
Well done dude!

 on: January 10, 2019, 10:01:58 PM 
Started by John M - Last post by John M
my legs are burning, a few more steps to the top, there are no trees at this altitude, just rock, i suppose thats why they call this bald mountain, my sunglasses keep slipping down my nose, accelerated by sweat, its annoying to fix, its beginning to knot up the muscles behind my ears, i pull them off and slide them into my flannel jacket pocket as the sun smacks me in the face, i turn my head away in retreat while squinting to protect my flexing pupils, they ache like one too many orgasms, my vision turns to white, and colors begin to fade into view as if the morning fog was dissipating, the view is incredible, standing at the very top of this rock, i can see all around me, a panoramic of all of western maine, I'm both in awe and filled with an incredible joy that i actually made it here, to the top, in one piece, the breeze feels so refreshing against my hot skin, i hear the rustling through the pines just below me grow louder, a heavy wind wraps me up in a cyclone and rips the air from my lungs as I try to breath in, i control the inhale with my mind and take it in slowly, closing my eyes and imagining that i'm flying, tossing me around much like a feather in a gust...

 on: January 10, 2019, 03:57:59 PM 
Started by FunkySea - Last post by FunkySea
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

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