Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

November 15, 2018, 04:52:16 AM
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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 ... 8 9 [10]
 91 
 on: October 27, 2018, 01:09:56 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Wire hair, not pelty fur
The sneeze proof dog
That's what I've heard.

Hypoallergenic, the poodle breed
Though they'll roll in poop
That's what I've seen.

A dog that smells not in the rain
Needs no bath
Now that seems strange.

Maybe I just don't get the hype
Is this a dog
That cannot bite?

I've seen chihuahuas, what there is of them
I've sighted a great dane
I've seen retrieves born to fetch
A stink proof dog, you'll never get.



 92 
 on: October 27, 2018, 10:08:41 AM 
Started by FunkySea - Last post by FunkySea
The road I live on has grayish asphalt and itís the seventies and itís kind of coarse there are low houses on either side and in the morning the air is moist and cool there are children everywhere on their way to school and their little backpacks are all of similar brand and make the current fashion mine is green with an orange sticker and inside some books are clattering around together with my lunchbox which is thin aluminum with a lid with three bears on it. And the lid is so well fitted to the case you put your fingers against the joint and gently pry it off and it makes a soft scraping sound and my table is brown with slightly lighter colored legs and thereís a drawer and this is my home I sit here every day facing the same way and I watch the black board and I look longingly out the window at the sky itís raining I want to go home today theyíre launching the space shuttle a bird passes close by the window and she works hard to stay in the air and she pushes the air under her wings and she sees me through the large windows and each feather is tightly controlled like the rotors on a helicopter a scream is heard it reverberates through the city it carries far and wide it too pushes the air around it but it hasnít got the connection to the throat that uttered it like the feathers are connected to the bird itís goodbye and the sound is on itís own setting the moist air in motion being pingponged back and forth in places and finally only an imprint is left and a car horn takes its place in space and time the small droplets flying off the mudguards and in the center of the roundabout a water tower stands guard its walls holding back gallons upon thousands of gallons of water itís dark in there and from the top you can look down into the abyss and outside you can faintly hear the cars and the horns and school is out and thousands of kids make their way home and their lunch boxes are empty their tiny stomachs churning and digesting the cucumbers and black bread and their young pink bodies and brains full of experi

 93 
 on: October 26, 2018, 03:17:43 PM 
Started by Lowwraine13 - Last post by Lowwraine13
                 The railroad tracks separates the town. A fence runs along those railroad tracks. The fence mostly remains caked with fall leaves, cardboard, and the fragments of clothing taken from daredevils and thrillseekers. Halloween rolls around and no one with a sensible mind would cross that fence line. It's a trap, a haunted amusement that puts smirks on testoroned filled boys and petty girls looking for an arm to hold. Lingering breaths and screams have been heard on the other side of those tracks and late into Halloween night the hallows of Jefferson street will be walked upon by the eyes of strangers. Everyone in town knows about Jefferson street.

 94 
 on: October 26, 2018, 11:47:26 AM 
Started by Dreobject - Last post by Dreobject

Small legs pedal a red bmx bike down the road. The rubber tires make a whirring sound from the friction with the asphalt. Wind blows into the girls eyes, causing tears to run sideways across her face. She wipes the tears with casual swipe, focused on her destination. Her pockets jingle with each pedal with the spare change she scavenged from couch cushions. Sheís headed straight for the candy store, and she can already taste it. A Reeseís peanut butter cup, creamy on the inside, and decadent chocolate on the outside is the goal. Looking down as she pedals, she violently jerks the foot brakes, causing the back wheel to slide out. A snake just slithered in the road directly in her path. Fear instinctively causes her to turn around and go back towards her house. Her heart, beating rapidly with the clicking gears ...

 95 
 on: October 26, 2018, 10:55:34 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Flowers, crosses, teddy bears
Make a roadside shrine
Another crash, another death
Another skidding turn.

The single car, the skid marks black
The tree trunk still erect
This is a road that takes lives
Winding through the land.

Some turns can take your breath away
In the early morning frost
Sun on field crisp with white
Glory country road.

Here to there, the conveyance
The travel, the motion
Just crosses left at this shrine
The road goes on, goes on.

 96 
 on: October 25, 2018, 11:17:13 PM 
Started by Moonshine - Last post by Moonshine
A tear is a tear is a tear
is just a tear.
52 million tears  in 52 years
Of course when I was much  younger
I tried snorting them up my  nose
I thought " I'll see how this goes
 (not very well)
I could smell the fear so I  became afraid 
and of course I cried all the more .
I tried catching them in a glass
well that was a blast  (I think)
but I could taste the wasted  time.

eventually I  wrapped them in tissue and gave them away .
they were all  returned
with a blotched note saying
thanks.
but no thanks ....................


 97 
 on: October 25, 2018, 03:46:51 PM 
Started by FunkySea - Last post by FunkySea
The child cried salty tears. Running down my cheek and I can feel it even before. Itís liberating like losing control finally the levee breaks and I donít have to pretend anymore. The truth is etc etc and Iím free. The tears are briny a flood of ocean water the soft lapping and the seaweed floating endlessly and the creatures in the sea have such grace. Down below lurk the dangers but a seal doesnít seem to worry too much the seaweed has bubbles and itís a huge organism its whole life is the floating and each cell is tightly bound to its neighbor and interacts and sucks things from the water and right at the surface thereís an exchange between millions of particles like a bazaar dusty and noisy each vendor trying to outscream and out announce the others and the tent like structures and all the wares the spices you pass the stall and one thousand foreign smells strong and interesting assail your nose and you imagine putting that on your fried eggs and serving your friends oh wow whereís he been lately and in the back of the kitchen cupboard lurk the stale forgotten spices and condiments that seemed indispensable on that trip to Panama etc the rain falling in heavy sheets drenching everything and weíre like sea creatures but resisting it as if were drowning we could just jump fully clothed in the sea this is the chance and everything becomes slick your phone shorts out quickly and itíll never live again so we might as well just have a good time in Cuba the trumpet player greets me warmly and his crinkled face tells me he has something to say on his instrument. The brightly colored streets and clothes and the laundry hanging from the windows and the women shouting to one another in a foreign language like Chinese and here the smells are really foreign how can this still be earth and the country is so vast how do you even claim to have seen a fraction the US is bad enough so enormous and the

 98 
 on: October 25, 2018, 01:11:44 PM 
Started by Lowwraine13 - Last post by Lowwraine13
                         In the kitchen, my back to the vanity and my hands grabbing the edge of the countertop. Another deep, slouched shoulder conversation. She looks at me with the test in her hand. The water drips from the faucet down onto the ceramic bowl and gets me to turn away for a second. The evening light lights up the backyard and my face. I turn back around and she's gone. Into the bathroom, a routine we've fallen into and don't plan on giving up. I stare at the knob of the bathroom and I'm anxious. Like a dog waiting for his owner to dump food into his bowl, I squeeze the side of the countertop tighter and wait. Along the back of the couch is a straight B- line to the bathroom door. She swings the bathroom door open, the hinges let out a tiny scream, and a tear is running down her cheek. She runs to me screaming "YES! My heart drops.

 99 
 on: October 25, 2018, 11:11:46 AM 
Started by Dreobject - Last post by Dreobject

She pulled the cashmere shawl over her head as the first step to undressing at the end of a long day. Itís soft fibers brushed gently against her face, instantly trapping the warmth. It kept her cozy all day, and touching it settled he nerves. As it moved up her arms, she could feel a catch on her necklace, followed by a ripping sound. She stopped quickly, adjusted her necklace to free the shawl, and continued. No longer protected by the cashmere, a chill shot through her from the cold winter air. Looking at the shawl, her fear had been warranted. A tear of half an inch opened up. Her favorite shawl, worth hundreds of dollars. She brought it close and smelled it. Her perfume had migrated from her neck ...

 100 
 on: October 25, 2018, 11:04:23 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Lachrymose tear, rending vent
Opening wide, revealing what
Jeans at the knees, pirates's blouse
Popping of buttons of a ravishment.

In ashes I lie with clothes all asunder
The outward sign of an inner tear
Loss is the breach, the broken hole
Ashes and tears streak my face.

Bathe in tears, wash in sorrow
Cleansing shake of shuddering breath
No wave reveals what tore it once
It heals and rushes onto the shore.

Dry again, the powdering paper
An archive of a long life gone by
Tatters of cuttings in file folders
Torn from the news of bygone days.



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