Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

July 18, 2018, 10:56:04 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 ... 8 9 [10]
 91 
 on: May 22, 2018, 07:18:10 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Butter on tongue, warm english muffin
Chewed outside for the spring
Soft morning air, eyes blink in the light
Tree blooms tartin the air.

Tulips gone by, disreputable bed
As dutch iris cavalcade high
Gladiolus, in all their stiff shoots
Tell of summer to come by and by.

Turning of days, the morning birds
More dulcet singing to nest
Crow in the tree shrugs the wings
No new to cry to the elders.

The morning will come when gladiolus blooms
Will accompany toast on the tongue
What flowers then will declare they are next
As morning toes check for the dew.

 92 
 on: May 22, 2018, 07:08:42 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Dancing for donuts, a dime for a kiss
Down with the courtesy girls
The boys need comfort, they’re going away
The trenches are calling them all.

Tin with some coffee and camels, a bar
Of chocolate, that’s like a kiss
Or a courtesy donut before the ship
The transport to that far shore.

A letter from home from a courtesy girl
A letter now soaked with mud
Dear soldier, I hope that you keep strong
She kissed it with lipstick on.

Round like that donut, that lipstick smudge
Round and maybe so green
Queer that a letter from a gal you don’t know
Could fill your eyes up with tears.

No donut today, the roar of barrage
Softening them up for the charge
Low in the trench, low in the mud
That letter, a camel, that’s hard.


 93 
 on: May 22, 2018, 06:59:06 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
New England, New Haven, New York, New Jersey
New Orleans, New Wales, New Day
Fresh and clear, the new new way
Start over, make a clear break.

Start over, start over in a new place
Just remember to keep all the names
Pisgah and Shilo, Alexandria, Venice
The places that history names.

Bring all the baggage, the history
Carthage and Athens and Rome
Syracuse, Ithaca, Attica, Moscow
There’s a sadness in bringing them all.

Let the tongue curl around cold Kennebeck
Mattawoman, Susquehanna
Piscataway, Massachusetts, Potomac, Huron
Let the Mississippi wrap around that.

 94 
 on: May 22, 2018, 06:47:47 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Running mountains down steep fire trails
Hiking frame jingling
Sight on the stone, the next foot fall
Knee bent, the boot tread gripping.

Speed of the slope, the trail in the rough
Leaps making longer strides
Ankle secure in the tight tied boot
Pine woods, softness of air.

Backside of Sugarloaf wooded and cool
The climb in the open and sun
Meadow flowers of the ski trails
Thighs burning in the push of the climb.

The backside trail wooded and stoney
The trail for the leaping run
The trail comes fast, a tunnel view
The breath comes light for a run.

 95 
 on: May 21, 2018, 06:14:54 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Sally walk down the aisle for me
Sally in your white dress
Oh Sally in beauty walking to me
Down the aisle in your white dress.

It took so long to catch me
Put me in this suit
But now that you’ve trapped me
It’s time to pump your boots.

My Sally wears her leather boots
Up to her thighs
Floating in her long white gown
They’re there still in disguise.

Down the aisle Sally swaggers
She knows she’s got me now
That riding crop under her arm
That’s to be sure I don’t run.

Sally walk down the aisle
A tigress on the prowl
Thigh high boots, a riding crop
And a lacy pale veil.

 96 
 on: May 21, 2018, 06:05:38 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Wish for a doctor to be a headache stopper
Some pill or diet advice
Wish for a doctor to have a cure
For a migraine that falls between the eyes.

A doctor has no cure, nor much sympathy
With the pain coming so often
Some things you must endure when there is no cure
So says the doctor for the millionth time.

So what use are you with your fancy degree?
Set a bone, cure a fever, kill a wart
But the patient in pain from migraine again
Nothing doing, no help, no cure.

Laugh you to scorn you helpless leach
Hands empty and shrugging shoulders
The yellow flashing pain of the migraine
Show’s you’re useless, no need to say more.

 97 
 on: May 21, 2018, 05:57:00 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
The check is in the mail
That’s the old story
That paper in between place
The island of time.

The check is in the mail
Mailed yesterday
Another chore accomplished
Not finished yet today.

A stamp, an address scribbled in blue ink
Return address more of a scrawl
Mint on the flap a moment on the tongue
The check is in the mail, that is all.

Worry over payment, worry on the rent
Postmarks and balancing the books
The check is in the mail, checkbook put away
The pen has other uses and stays out.

Years ago a flier offered special checks
A sunset pale on a barn
Or sunset at the beach or some other scene
But that check in the mail is just plain.

 98 
 on: May 21, 2018, 05:47:38 AM 
Started by Chris Dudley - Last post by Chris Dudley
Padlock on the clock door, the tower face on high
The winding stair to seconds, the turnings of time
Padlock on the clock door, the keeper’s key ring
The keeper setting time for us all.

Some will wind their watch when they hear the tower bell
Check that it is still keeping time
Whistle of engine crossing to town
Clock marks it a few late.

The keeper sometimes climbs the stairs
Cleans dust from gears way up there
Oils bearings, surveys the square
Feels how nothing changes all the same.

Locking the tower, the keeper’s key ring
In his pocket chinkles as he steps
Steps to the rhythm of the clockwork gears
To keep an appointment after three.

 99 
 on: May 19, 2018, 07:14:49 PM 
Started by Moonshine - Last post by Richard
The crowd has slowly dwindled to a determined few... the grill is still smoking with the remnants of barbequed ribs and chicken... my fingers finally feel clean from the recent washing of sauce, charcoal and beer... the taste of which I can garner only from a casual but deliberate lip licking... the grass was cut day before yesterday but still holds an aromatic essence reminiscent of my teenage summers trying hard to earn some gas money as I dreamed of a ‘57 Chevy.... There was a quiet clatter in the kitchen - I knew things were winding down in sync with the late summer sun... My bones still ached from the chaotic cleanup and prep for the glorious event and a fullness inside almost overcame my sense of relief as the last one departed with a sincere word of thanks... Across the yard, a gentle breeze set it into motion... I could even see the flag on the porch corner post respond... There in its silence it beckoned to me... promising a moment of retreat - closure - respite.... the Pawleys Island rope hammock given to me a decade ago by the one I love so dearly....

 100 
 on: May 18, 2018, 08:37:32 PM 
Started by Moonshine - Last post by Moonshine
Parachute silk
its made of
supposedly like
falling out of the clouds
the smoothest descent
softest landing on your ass
lingerie  in space  
at first im sceptical
easing in
easy now
balance
the swing  ging  thing
side to side
to and fro left to right
melts the feelings i felt before
and oh  yes there it is
the sweet spot .
weightless  in space
 do not disturb
 and then then ends the thers mefmf ewfcaxxxxxxxxxxx,;Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.................

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