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Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cinammon
« Last post by John Cooper on January 23, 2020, 03:25:39 PM »
Sally cinnamon is playing loud as I kiss my cinnamon freckled crush for the first time. Itís dark and the room is singing, paying no attention to what was a huge moment in my life. The kiss tasted of alco-pops and cigarettes. Short of breath, tight chest excitement, maybe itís all the passive smoking Iíve been doing lately. Flashing lights, foreheads touching, eye to eye as the cheap disco lights swirl in her iris like the 5th of November. Searching for corners to be alone, just us and the stone roses. Beer stained and sweaty and youth-full and ready. Ready to dive in whole hearted, fearless as a veteran skydiver in his 1000th jump. Heart racing but unafraid. Shit, I wish I could be so bold now. If only they could bottle the fearlessness of youth 100% proof I swear I was drunk, no liquid courage like it. Red lips and pink tongue, a few drinks and this song, sally really does taste like cinnamon. I think it must be the aftershock.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / cinnamon
« Last post by venice on January 23, 2020, 11:34:26 AM »
i got an assignment due tomorrow for university, ahh shit i left it last minute again!. so i go to my usual coffee shop which is 2 blocks near my house as it helps me concentrate and there is free wifi, i walk up the stairs and push the hefty door, as soon as i walk in i feel warmth and relaxation, and i got here at a good time where is pretty empty, i hear saxophone and a piano playing through the speakers, and faintly still hear a few conversations by the 2 groups of people sitting right by where you place your order. so i go to the back of the coffee shop( my usual spot anyway) to try be in my zone. i had to order something in order to get to the free wifi, so i go to the barista and ask her for a hot chocolate, after our usual small talk i grab the chocolate and get to work. sip sip, this hot chocolate just tingles my tongue with excitement, the sweetness of the cinnamon with a tiny salty after taste peacefully got me through my assignment 
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cinnamon
« Last post by andrewpayne55 on January 23, 2020, 10:23:02 AM »
Outside the wind howls a nightmarish scream
That cuts straight to the bone.
Accompanied by the torrential rain
That pounds against your home.
The sky is black and purple
Like a savage, swollen bruise.
So you cower in the kitchen,
Your comforting refuge.
Within here lies a secret
That always tames your mind,
Stops your heart from racing
And helps your to unwind.
A simple mug of Cocoa
With some Cinnamon on top
Some whipped cream and marsh mallows
And then the terror seems to stop.
With the simplest of comforts,
The world can be put to right
And you can curl up on your sofa
To enjoy a pleasant night.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Chimney
« Last post by berkley84 on January 23, 2020, 03:26:17 AM »
   I look up from the driveway where my blue and white basketball has just bounced off the hoop and ricocheted far out into my neighborís lawn. I see our chimney sticking up out of the roof. Something about it looks as thrown together as most of my fatherís repairs. Maybe itís the sagging brick or the patchy paint job. Maybe itís the way the wind rattles the antenna and draws the attention of passers by. I turn away to run after my basketball. The chimney conundrum is for more proficient ponderers to figure out.
   Sherlock and Watson take a long stroll down Temple Street. Holmes smokes his pipe. Watson has his hands in his long coat pockets. Both men enjoy the atmosphere of the small Victorian village on a sunny spring evening. The cars pass, with some college students getting distracted by the doofuses walking around in their late 19th century garb. They wonder to themselves what they were smoking...
   The two men approach a midsized blue home. Watson stops dead in his tracks.
   ďMy dear Holmes!Ē he cries. ďWhatever do you make of that chimney atop this fine blue house?Ē
   Holmes takes a look and puffs out smoke. ďWell, Watson, it is clear to the casual observer that whomever dwells in this fair building is in need of some repairs.Ē
Object Writing Word Of The Day / chimney
« Last post by venice on January 22, 2020, 11:52:23 AM »
after a long day at work, i just want some relaxation, i go to the kitchen and make myself some hot chocolate, instantly the smell soothes my soul and just after a zip it taste like a breath of fresh air, i walk next door to the sofa and take my shoes off and put my thick cotton socks that i got for Christmas, turn the radio on and play some Sade, ahh how peace full her voice is. i go to the chimney and start a fire, throw some old rusty wood i had from the garden, and light it up, moments later i have a bright fire lighting my living room giving me a campfire like odour, bit by bit soothing my soul   
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Orb
« Last post by andrewpayne55 on January 22, 2020, 09:40:36 AM »
Thank you for your kind words. I am really pleased with how this one turned out.
I don't have a melody just yet, but it is something that I would like to work on soon.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Chimney
« Last post by andrewpayne55 on January 22, 2020, 09:39:24 AM »
A steady plume of grey to white
A constant stream from day to night
A gentle fire, burning bright
In the Texas Steakhouse.

Within the kitchen of this vendor
Is the perfect meal, rich and tender
Take a bite or magnificent splendour
In the Texas Steakhouse.

The greatest meal I have ever known
With meat that falls straight off the bone
I have never cooked this well at home
Than in the Texas Steakhouse.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Orb
« Last post by Microbass on January 22, 2020, 03:13:51 AM »
Wonderfully written poemó wow, in 10 min!? I like the sense of quiet introspection, tinged with unspoken personal regret. Have you a melody?
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Orb
« Last post by berkley84 on January 22, 2020, 02:02:56 AM »
   Itís after school and like always we walk to the playground, planning on scrounging through the trash cans for pop cans to bring to Convenient for 5 cents a pop. Ian will get Fireballs with his quarter. Tim will get a sucker. I am torn between the Bazooka Joe gum or the crappy zebra cakes. One tastes good and comes with a comic, the other tastes bad, but is still somewhat chocolatey, and I have been thinking of chocolate all day long.
   We walk out of school through the backlot and walk down an abandoned street past several Victorian era homes. On the corner, there is always a Dalmatian out on the porch, gnarling its vicious teeth at us. I love dogs, but not this one.
   Itís early spring, too cold to take off our coats, but warm enough that the ground has thawed into the muddy bog-like surface it will remain until July. And itís not a long walk down to the playground. There it is, in fact, with its slide and monkey bars, merry-go-round and tunnel. And then a field where we play capture the flag frequently and a basket ball court where we typically see the college kids playing.
   But today out on the court, the first thing I notice is a blue and white orb. I see it first and bolt towards it. I feel the wind in my face and my legs losing feeling. I hear my friends behind me shouting to wait and I hear their feet trying to catch up to mine. And I get there first and I clutch the orb to my chest. It is a basketball, painted the college colors.
   And now it is mine.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Orb
« Last post by ladybegood on January 21, 2020, 11:47:43 AM »
We all stood solemnly in the living room unsure of what to do with ourselves. My feet stood on the thin, hard gray carpet, that was once soft and clean but had so many stains from raising three children it didnít look or feel that way. A mellow vanilla scent from the candle sitting on the coffee table swirled around the air. Her father, who always had a joke ready for me sat on the black leather couch so distant I donít think he saw anyone standing in front of him. The funeral was over. Now what? We had just celebrated her sweet 16, and there was a quiet in the tiny 3 bedroom ranch that wouldnít be filled again. The knot in my stomach kept churning and I didnít think it would ever go away. Her step mom believed she was still here. I think she was trying to give us hope, as she walked around the room with her digital camera, snapping photos of every corner telling Jessica in her high pitched nasally voice to give us a sign she was here. She stopped short like a car crash and suddenly gasped, and almost fell to the ground but was caught by the edge of the love seat. Everyone except her father who was still sitting like a zombie ran over to look at the camera. In the photo she took, right next to dad on the couch was a giant glowing orb of light unlike anything any of us had ever seen.
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