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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


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Author Topic: Push up - Objectw Writing Dec 19th  (Read 608 times)
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« on: December 18, 2008, 10:06:47 PM »

Muscles aching, screaming, yelling for rest, willing my body to do just one more, in a bellows movement the arms concertina out and I smell the carpet close up, the ingrained dirt and flecks and dust mites before a piggy grunt swell of effort and my arms lock in again, phew - five, that's tough - A little rest then five more. Near the end of the work out, I drag a forearm over a sweat greased brow, skin looks as if I've been caught in a shower , a shiny lake of skin.

Round two, palms flatten out the pile, its barbs are false reassurance. toes form an inverted aircraft tail and I lever up and down again, huff, puff, I'm gonna blow this house down, I am the nasty wolf , where are those THREE little pigs - just two more now. I'm tasting determination and sweat and nonsense... why do this? Subject myself to it? Every bone is creaking every muscle a furnace. Just one more, I hear ropes flapping about the sails of an old sailing clipper tightly bound they are , the boom squeaking to and fro in the wind just like my muscles. The floorboards of the old vessel are creaking in the swell, the swell as I rise and fall.....

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