Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

August 22, 2019, 08:53:49 PM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti

Saturday-Homesick



Word of the Day
Pages: 1 2 [3] 4 5 ... 10
 21 
 on: August 20, 2019, 10:34:59 PM 
Started by Eh3k - Last post by Eh3k
a certain kind of cloudy day exposes the elm tree leaves in a way that brings to mind in stark relief those circus pinwheels that I had as a kid, the ones on the white plastic stick that you could blow on and make spin, even though there was a little resistance and they wouldnít go on just forever, even though you wanted it to.  And heaven forbid you has asthma and couldnít play the game.  Of course, you could, but then youíd be out of breath and cough like you were a smoker and your mom would yell, ďget a cup of water.Ē  But it was the metallic leaves that I remember most, mesmerizing my fresh young eyes like a kaleidoscope, shimmering and glossy.  When the clouds are just right and the sun dips its face down as if peeking below the covers and the light illuminates the old elm treeís branches from below radiating off those dragonfly leaves with the same glossy glow.  And instead of the old branches that in younger days I might try to climb, thereís a hive of woodland fairies huddles in close conference waiting for the wind to blow.  But instead of flying away on the breezy waves, the wind blows their wings off altogether and the float lifeless to the ground, death already turning them pale hues of green and yellow and brown, littering the ground, so that the fairies have become nothing more than a dusting of dry wings on browning grass in autumn

 22 
 on: August 20, 2019, 09:42:17 PM 
Started by Itsjamiejones - Last post by fireystarter
stuff I loved: "like a friend who is only a friend because we went to primary school together" um yeah, I have those.
                         "as much in common as the pope does with an atheist"
                         "you were my treat" - this line is so simple but so effective.
stuff I didn't love: yeah, I'm drawing a blank here. I really enjoyed reading this.

 23 
 on: August 20, 2019, 09:39:35 PM 
Started by leowriter - Last post by fireystarter
great description of the people taking photos on the beach. "pointing the panorama and taking pictures, putting on their best poses as if they were going to win prizes" just flows so beautifully. also totally know the attention hungry kid trying to one up everyone else in the photo.

 24 
 on: August 20, 2019, 09:36:43 PM 
Started by berkley84 - Last post by fireystarter
ahhh there's so much here I want to mention! so much I loved.
I can feel exactly what time of day it is in the first paragraph, all from the line "the highway isn't jammed up yet, the way it will be in about 90 min." can we also talk about "their leaves hold onto their green like a drunk at closing time"?? I'm totally stealing part of that line for a song I'm writing now. it's perfect.
the second paragraph lost me until I got to that last line, which unexpectedly made me laugh out loud with how ridiculous it was, and it fit the mood of the piece perfectly.
the third paragraph is perfection. I love the juxtaposition of the poor and affluent, and where you take that comparison in the rest of the paragraph.
I really enjoyed reading this!

 25 
 on: August 20, 2019, 09:32:27 PM 
Started by plamb - Last post by fireystarter
ugh, love. so many sensory phrases you used, I truly felt the weight of the branches under the snow. "like pilgrims to a holy place," "the constellations sort themselves", "a pirouette held perfectly in time", and "soft blades of grass a perfect bed for the lovers who lay a blanket beneath" were all particularly poetic phrases. loved the moments I spent reading this.

 26 
 on: August 20, 2019, 09:29:29 PM 
Started by fireystarter - Last post by fireystarter
she stands under the elm tree every night. she arrives just as the warmth from the sun leaves the hills and the relentless cold sets in, the silver light of a sliver of moon reflecting off her porcelain skin. the moon continues to Cheshire Cat its way across the sky as she takes her post beneath the bowing branches of the ancient tree, reaching towards the heavens, desperate arms reaching for stars. her dress is as white as she is pure, and every time I glimpse her through my window I get a chill down my spine. she's been dead 100 years but she's never been gone for long. I press my face to the window and breathe out, tracing her silhouette in the fog I just made. It's as close to touching a ghost as the living can get.

 27 
 on: August 20, 2019, 05:14:15 PM 
Started by plamb - Last post by plamb
 Thousands of fingers grasping towards the light. It's as though they want to pluck the sun from it's resting place in the sky. The roots beneath her feet twisting, turning, entangled, a pirouette held perfectly in time. She sits silently, accepting of each season, from the gentle rustle that tickles her leaves, to the sagging weight of snow that gathers, like pilgrims to a holy place, upon her highest branches. Kissed by the sun and photographed by the moon. Day to night as the heavens spin, the constellations sort themselves, above her fixed place. Her shade is cast long and far, soft blades of grass a perfect bed for the lovers who lay a blanket underneath. What similarities as she lays her hand, warm

 28 
 on: August 20, 2019, 11:24:47 AM 
Started by berkley84 - Last post by berkley84
   I walk outside when the sun hasnít risen yet. You can hear the crickets chirp and see the dew on the ground. About 10 miles away, I can hear the sounds of a plane taking off from the airport. The highway isnít jammed up yet, the way it will be in about 90 minutes. The elm trees on my block sit silently in the streetlights. Their leaves hold on to their green coloring like a drunk at closing time. Summer is almost over. Thatís all that color means to me now.
   I round the corner where there is a mechanic and a fenced in junkyard for rusty cars. A strong smell whiffs down the street from the cheese factory. It is like vinegar and grape soda. I think of the cheese pizza I ate last night and how delicious it was. Thereís no connection between that flavor and this smell.
   My feet start to tire as I round another corner, another street of houses that donít always get the care they deserve. Paint chipping, roofs showing wear and tear, boarded up windows. This is a strange place to live, among the poor and the affluent. There are no borders here, everyone is mixed up. It should be as American as could be, but of course, thatís not how America functions elsewhere. I walk under the canopy of elm trees in the dim light. I hear the skittering squirrels hide away in their holes.
   Some of these trees have been decorated by the residents. They have gnomes living in their holes. They have faces stapled on. The people have added a celebratory feel to what will soon be a bleak gray place. When the October rain comes, everything becomes mud. When the December snow comes, people feel free to throw their garbage on the ground.

 29 
 on: August 20, 2019, 08:18:08 AM 
Started by BazMac - Last post by BazMac
Flip Flops

Snapping like a crocodile's mouth with every step, eating up the air underneath the foot.  Two crocodiles walking backwards, defending themselves from predators narrowing in.  The snaps get quicker and loud, until eventually, they stop.  They are safe now.  Flips flops picked up with two contrasting sides.  The underside is dry with stones and dirt clinging on.  With a brush of the hand over the ridged surface, the dirt starts falling off.  The other side of the flip flops is sticky with sweat.  Two flips flops, propelling through the air like a koala bear clinging on to an exhaust pipe of a moving car.

 30 
 on: August 19, 2019, 06:37:05 PM 
Started by andrewpayne55 - Last post by andrewpayne55
(Dedicated to my old friend Holly)

The last time that I saw you
We were living different lives
Still searching for the answers
On how best to survive.
I think itís safe to say
That we didnít have a clue
Where to even start
And what we were supposed to do.
We parted at a crossroads
And we went our separate ways.
I thought I had found a meadow
But I was trapped within a maze.
Now we live in different worlds
On opposite sides of Earth
And I am happy in the knowledge
That you have discovered lifeís true worth.
I see you in a kimono
Immersed in life in the East
And I take great joy in the knowledge
That you have found yourself at peace.

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