Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

January 17, 2019, 03:39:54 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 ... 8 9 [10]
 on: December 22, 2018, 05:02:39 PM 
Started by aTulipsDelima - Last post by aTulipsDelima
thank you

 on: December 22, 2018, 02:08:27 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Flip of the finger, the card slides forth
Each pile evenly growing
Five each for this game
Face down after the ante.

Gloss of plastic coating the cards
Genuine Bicycle they say
A peek and thereís color in this hand
Breath slow not to give it away.

Color, two queens that make a pair
That and the king is high
Two cards go back after the bet
A third queen and the seven of spades.

Stay or raise, thatís the question
First time through, play it cool
Second round, raise a bit
The call comes rattling through.

The cards slid quiet during the deal
The chips scrape coming home
The pile for three queens, king high
For the calm of sitting like stone.

 on: December 22, 2018, 01:57:40 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
In Willie's corner
Hangs a neon sign
Hung on the wall
With his pictures.

It's a steakhouse chain
Potatoes and sides
Green salad, bread
Beans with ham.

Willie is here
In his own way
Across the country.

On the road
Another show
Another bus ride
Singing his songs.

 on: December 20, 2018, 07:10:48 PM 
Started by Higgs88 - Last post by Higgs88
Crisp air closes out the day. I wait by the docks in warm wool and long socks, wind tickling my tiny neck hairs, goose bumps make me shiver. Water splashes against the sailboats, salty planks covered in varnish and tar still they begin to rot in places. Freckles of buoys dot the harbor, small restaurant packed, smell of tuna, raw and overwhelming the sound of silverware clinking on plates I scrape my feet absentmindedly, fishermen with weather-worn faces and thick messy beards, muscle-bound and heading home after a long day out. The water, looking back at me in-- 

 on: December 20, 2018, 06:21:45 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Ruffles of water precede the wind
Sliding across the lake
Like the edge of the rain coming along
The wind fills out the sail.

Rhythm thrums the slide-in centerboard
Rhythm too in the tillier
Lean out against the tilt of the reach
Taught and humming the sail gains speed.

Thereíll be a calm, itís that kind of day
Calm then a pretty good breeze
Wind and water, sun and ease
This is sailing for no other reason.

Orange life jacket, absurd air horn
A boat that comes in four pieces
Taught with the wind, humming away
The king of the errant breezes.

 on: December 20, 2018, 05:51:06 PM 
Started by aTulipsDelima - Last post by Lowwraine13
Good Stuff!

 on: December 20, 2018, 05:49:51 PM 
Started by Lowwraine13 - Last post by Lowwraine13
I wish I had me a boat this time of year
The cold wind blowing in is just too much to bear.
I could take some trade winds head on
If I only had boat to sail upon

Imagining it now, its perfect
The stained wooden creeks with each wave
it rolls along with its sail perched high
I drift alone endlessly into the sky

No one asking where I am or how come
my sudden disappearance with no damage done
Not a woman can hold me ashore I know
if I had me a boat I'd be gone

The sun would stain my face with shades of red
The salt would fill the air and the fish would keep me fed

 on: December 20, 2018, 02:56:33 PM 
Started by aTulipsDelima - Last post by aTulipsDelima
Donít forget it he says, eagerly running in the bathroom. the sounds of Niagara Falls fill the room as steamy water rushes out the rusty pipe. A few dashes of dawn is all thatís needed to make the water foam like a Frappuccino. Like a scientist he analyses the water before using it. His big toe hollers as the water is a few degrees too high for his liking. He eventually gets in. The suds make white noise as his body disturbs the lifeless body of water. Just then his mom enters with it. It was the only way to convince him to get wet. It's shinny red paint was now chipped and dull as it had been passed down from brother to brother. the sails were  beige and tattered, and the poles were leaning but it still managed to float. It was the only boat heíd seen in his short four-year life time, but it was the only one he needed.

 on: December 19, 2018, 05:33:49 PM 
Started by FunkySea - Last post by FunkySea
The tiny picture frame the dark purple the luminescent green that seems to emanate like Daliís green a tangible radiant mysterious and soothing green. The green light shining in the snow on Christmas Eve the tiny stoplight with changing colors a gift from my uncle I took it outside it was dark and snowing and the red and yellow and green shone without warmth in the night but it was an explosion for me the delicious burning cold of the night the party inside with our family my grandparents my brother my parents and my uncles and aunts but there I was all by myself squatting in the one and a half inch of snow, completely mesmerized by the lights my brown hair getting damp with melted snow and my corduroy pants with patches on the knees draping around my legs my little fingers handling the plastic contraption the holy moment and above the clouds the stars and the icon has them too precision painted yellow piercing against the glowing blue like itís backlit and the halo of the Christ a peace comes over me and the cool sheets and a little wooden shelf the  back fastened with a screw that long ago penetrated the soft sheetrock and hasnít moved since gravity steadily pulling down and pushing gently and the hairs on my head growing slowly but the screw static and fixed and yet made of the same material my hair does it make a sound as it grows the tiny molecular machines that serve inside building day and night and up and up it goes and a smile is a hundred muscles an acidic contraction a blessing as old as humans as old as love did that feeling exist in prehistoric times a volcano erupting and two t rexíes their eyes meet and itís love. Letís make babies and she gives birth to a huge egg and x-rayed the proud parents see the shado

 on: December 19, 2018, 02:39:51 PM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
From wallet to wallet, a single IOU
Transfers on through the years
When leather is worn and cards fall out
The IOU tucked deep remains.

It wonít be collected, no fear of that
Itís kept as a promise still
Kept a reminder, a last connection
His marker when he was not ill.

Once there was strength, vitality
That could borrow ten bucks on a whim
A glint in the eyes, spontaneity
Left behind, I keep memory alone.

One day I will write you an IOU
Iíll redeem it again I am sure
Grant me the time to settle my debts
Not everyone gets that you know.

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