Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

March 22, 2019, 02:30:28 AM
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.
Did you miss your activation email?

Login with username, password and session length
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: March 19, 2019, 01:31:46 AM 
Started by kurtiz - Last post by kurtiz
Light is sweat within my mind.  It defines whatever you hide within all I can see.  Illuminate us until we no longer are free to see who we really are.  As I salivate for your gentle glow beyond within, forever caressing my skin invisible to the naked eye.  Rub me with your subtle shining spark.   Your ancient wisdom from your mothers sun shining.  But you force me here as you sit still, you force me to keep going, seeing trying not to sleep.  You are my commander and chief never to be heard from breaking into my body.   You love your power and your wisdom forever, you will never need anything beyond what i can see how you are the master of the world.  Whispers of history light you are all knowing, glowing bright beyond all that is great. 

 on: March 19, 2019, 01:21:06 AM 
Started by mattvs86 - Last post by mattvs86
Laughter fills the air, kids stampeding around playing tag.  An old cedar picnic table is covered with a white and flower patterned table cloth.  Cold pasta salad, bright red slices of watermelon full of tiny black seeds.  Little slices of heavenly BBQ flavored potato chips that almost disintegrate the second they hit your tongue, leaving only a salty sensation and a glob of starch.  Veggie dip and little crowns of broccoli, each one a perfect little stalk.  Not too big, and not too small.  Freshly sliced tomatoes, lettuce and red onion line a tray.  Only one item left.  You can smell the beef on the grill from clear across the park, the fat dripping off each burgers and vaporizing in the furnace below.  Slabs of cheddar cheese line each burger, the buns a toast golden brown in the upper compartment of the grill.  Everyone sets up their plate differently.  Some carefully organize, others carelessly pile on, not worried whether bake beans touch a potato salad or pasta salad.   Add in an ice cold beer and you have a perfect Saturday afternoon in July. 

 on: March 18, 2019, 10:41:38 PM 
Started by Eloisenm - Last post by Chris Dudley
dose of fries... Yep.

 on: March 18, 2019, 10:23:35 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Wrapped in paper, a pickle, onions
Ketchup, mustard, cheese and a bun
That’s the snack, the stop at McDonalds
Waiting on the car to charge.

All the scents combine as I raise
The half wrapped bun in the sun
Walk on pavement back to the bridge
Footbridge over the ditch.

Strange walking this world of cars
New Nissans parked in rows
Denny’s sits there across six lanes
Home of club sandwich and fries.

Car at full charge, or nearly so
A salesman asks if I need help
Is there a trash can somewhere out here?
He points to one inside the door.

I muse on the gas pump with squeegee and can
For dumping the fast food trash
Car charging stations tend not to have those
But time to walk to McDonalds.

 on: March 18, 2019, 10:14:37 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Pushing a pen after poetry
Like humming after music
Some strains carry through
Sunday, Sunday dawning.

Lamp in the evening echoes the sun
Draws dim dawn down on this page
Page once clear of all but lines
Page now filled with poetry’s echo.

Indulgence perhaps, the new radio
An alarm that receives high definition
High definitions of poetry
Clearer than glass, clearer than air.

Still to this chore, this filling of pages
The lamp unneeded in dawn’s smooth light
Glow of the morning stretching for church
This is the moment, here the pen moves.

Last night in the headlamps
A deer so large, tall as a man
Chewing and chewing on the road shoulder
Chewing like a pen with no sidewalk.

 on: March 18, 2019, 10:04:33 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Telephone, telephone
Stretch of string
Two tin cans
Pull tight, pull tight
Shout the words
Down the line.

Seashell roar
In the ear
String tight
The buzz comes through
A kind of voice
A sense of words.

Answer back
I can’t hear
Answer back
On tightened string
What! What! What?
The shouting comes.

Feel the ridges
The can in hand
Keep the tension
Listen agaIn
The buzz again

The Christian Scientists
Have a globe
Lit from without
A glass globe
A map
Of Earth.

Railed passage
Down the center
Blue light
Earth around
Whisper there
Whisper there.

 on: March 18, 2019, 09:55:10 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Swallows nest atop the column
Peep of chicks over conversation
Sunday afternoon above the Potomac
Eagle glides below.

This painted porch held some drummers
African rhythms projected out
Children now draw below the nest
Parents speak of history.

Slate roof above the porch
Dormer windows gaze at the river
Here they counted Union troop ships
And slipped across to inform Richmond.

Swallow’s nest, empty in Winter
Few will come to the porch in the cold
Sit on the steps, dog on a lead
Know the grey Potomac flows.

 on: March 18, 2019, 09:47:17 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Green eggs and ham in Moosilauke Lodge
No fox, no box, no mouse, no house
Green eggs and ham, the outing club way
Here, there, anywhere,

Thighs, the thighs burn climbing up
Knees, the knees knock coming down
Altitude decrepitude
Running mountains in New England sun.

That’s the box, on the page
Box with fox from youngest age
And then the climbing up and down
To Moosilauke and breakfast chant.

I told a senator, “we speak for the trees”
We do, but first we walk with them
For days in forests with no boxes
Just foxes, foxes and crickets at night.

 on: March 18, 2019, 09:36:42 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Hum through the sky whirring jump rope
Slap the dust of the ground
Rise blind behind the back
Hum harder picking up speed.

Double bounce, that’s the trick
To pick up the jump rope rhythm
One for the jump, one for the rise
Then whip to the double time.

I never tried crossing the rope as it swang
Though double rope jumping I have
Swing both ways, click under foot
Dizzy with motion and sound.

 on: March 18, 2019, 09:31:12 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Thumb runs down the plink plonk plink
Call of the teeth of the comb
Comb taps taps taps on table edge
Catching the beat of the Stones.

Waxpaper kazoo, buzz on lips
Tickle of raspy noise
That’s it for combs, now on to spoons
For the sounds and feels of joy.

Spoons to bang on metal pots
Bang a wood salad bowl
Bang or clatter against the knee
Palm heel driving them on.

On to the washboard, obsolete tool
When laundry was done by hand
Rattle of stick, slide up and down
Music still calls out the board.

Beans in a bucket, shake shake shake shake
Bottlecaps nailed to a stick
Sandpaper on blocks rub rub rub rub
Rubberband build castanettes.

Pages: 1 2 [3] 4 5 ... 10