April 24th, 2017 | 23 Entries

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23 Entries for “roasted”

  1. The chicken in the oven is entirely way more roasted than you wanted it to be. You stared at the chicken on the container, stared at the oven door, and then shoved the entire chicken back in. If it dared come out too roasted, it might as well come out burned.

    By Taki on 04.24.2017

  2. Roasted. Toasted. The roast will be roasted and the house will smell of onions. What a stench! I’d like to roast my husband for his decision to make roast with onions. Toast. Roast. Roast. Toast. I think I’ll take the toast, especially since I hate the smell of roast at breakfast.

    By rachelzana on 04.24.2017

  3. The glazed, roasted duck sat nestled in thick cutlets between slivers of overripe peach and drizzles of an unidentified red berry jam.

    By emily rowe on 04.24.2017

  4. the roasted almonds i bought from the small kiosik were so crunchy that with each bite my fellows could listen the sounds of fresh almonds being chewed.

    By Naeem on 04.25.2017

  5. Chicken skin in the oven
    Ghost skin in the sun
    Frog in a pot, he calls it love
    Feast of a face
    Laid out, never enough,
    Too much,
    Never enough,
    Enough now,
    Words abandoned in the heat,
    Left to dry before they’ve lived
    An evergreen with needles through the summer
    The world heating up, the season,
    The tension across
    the globe, the ozone,
    melting ice-caps,
    the world is salt-water and the only thing dry is my eyes
    going blind
    all I hold are
    red threads woven between my fingers
    clinging like vines
    across the kitchen
    a bond to outside the oven
    arched back
    see the world upside-down from the stained window
    and the meat in my chest
    grows warm

    By Ai URL on 04.25.2017

  6. We ate cherry pie first and roasted chicken later, drinking wine in between intervals of gorging and gluttony, smoking old cigarettes found in the attic by Timothy when he started scavenging for hidden treasures. It all tasted like resin and sap in the end – even the fruit seemed aged and trapped in blobs of amber in our mouths.

    By Belinda Roddie URL on 04.25.2017

  7. when u say something to someone so the will be triggerd

    By radin URL on 04.25.2017

  8. dissatisfied

    By William URL on 04.25.2017

  9. The roasted cinnamon nuts permeated the air. It was such a beautiful sunny day at the ballpark. The kids were laughing and running around behind the dugouts. Little Adeline was chasing the butterfly she had seen perched atop the fence. It’s little yellow wings helping her keep track of it as she followed it for a closer view. These are the days I am so glad to be a mother, to see the joy written across their faces. This is love.

    By Emma on 04.25.2017

  10. Oh man have I been roasted before. It was quite actually fun because I can take their blows and see that it simply means an opportunity for me to improve. So being roasted is quite okay. It means they see you. But it can’t be always the way you want to be seen.

    By smo0thster URL on 04.25.2017

  11. inspect me under a lamp
    the funeral was okay
    but was yellow
    really her favorite color?
    girl in traffic
    on a porch swing screaming
    all fifty branches
    bored by completely naked
    and running hands across bodies looking for more clothes to take off

    By Ivey Merrill URL on 04.25.2017

  12. She peeked into the over, her eyes squinting against the heat. “Almost done… I think.”
    He laughed from the other room. “Do you want me to take a look?”
    “No, no, I’m doing this on my own. I’m figuring it out. Set the table and we’ll eat soon.”

    By Bridget Grace URL on 04.25.2017

  13. I’ve been eating lots of chestnuts lately, even though it’s spring. They remind me of a fruit we have back home. I wonder if I should try to have them roasted. It might be too hot for that just yet though.

    By charidabelle URL on 04.25.2017

  14. Bubbling and spitting over the open flame, the peanuts turned on the slow moving crank-shaft. Their skin popping off, their glaze dirtied sugary honey.

    By ml on 04.25.2017

  15. Trell walked his ass back home, alone, dragging his feet through the westside of Jacksonville. Never had a homie been roasted so savagely. He knew what was next. He must purchase some real J’s and a fresh outfit and come back to school packing mad lyrical heat.

    By Nikki URL on 04.25.2017

  16. Burn. The boy’s face started flushing red. He looked down in shame and guilt. Why didn’t I listen to my teacher? Now I’m getting scolded in front of the whole class.

    By Yen on 04.25.2017

  17. Last week I roasted chicken with my friends
    I don’t like roasted nuts
    I could feel my skin beginning to roast

    By Sam on 04.25.2017

  18. Roasting in the sun, tan lines and warm light dances along the ground. Toasted notes of heat and crunchy leaves scattered, even though its spring

    By kelly URL on 04.25.2017

  19. Yo mama so fat, that when she went to in and out, she couldn’t go in or out. #Roasted

    By Dylin URL on 04.25.2017

  20. fired meat

    By Noor URL on 04.25.2017

  21. So what comes to mind and this is probably a generational is getting roasted by someone. As in the say something to you and its mean but meant to be funny. Its also like ooh what a burn

    By Emily Lahtinen URL on 04.25.2017

  22. 6:34 pm. There’s a storm outside when I think of you. I’m roasting chestnuts, your favourite, and I wonder if you’ll be knocking on my door tonight even though I know there’s a higher chance of the storm creeping in, taking off it’s shoes and sitting quietly with me. Well done, the raging weather is less of an arse than you.
    9:04 pm. The rain is falling faster than someone who decided they weren’t enough and I find my thoughts drifting towards you again. The plate of chestnuts dusted with icing, now empty, sits in front of me. Fingerprints in the sugar like footsteps in snow, leading you away from me. Thunder rumbles and so does the rage when I think of your crooked teeth and your smile and your hands and your voice. I pray to the Gods that the rain will wash away all thought of you and think of the shrine at the base of our mountain, my mountain. Where you no longer take me with a basket filled with my favourite food, and of course your sugared chestnuts, the sickly sweet layer hiding the bitter taste underneath; a perfect metaphor for you.
    12:18 am. The rain stops, the clouds recede, and as I drift off to sleep I do not dream of mountain walks, I do not dream of roasted chestnuts, nor do I dream of you. The storm is over and so are we.

    By Gremlin URL on 04.25.2017

  23. In a creative mood, God got up from his breakfast and walked to the veranda. He looked down over the railing of balcony at the white flecks of sails and sailboats floating on the azure water. A salty breeze tossed his hair to one side. Vines and olive trees on the cliffs under the villa shook similarly. When the breeze halted he could hear the muffled noise of bathers and sailers mixed up with the rhythmic cries of seagulls. The scene was a radiant source of happiness and peace. It was, by most definitions, perfection.

    Which is what bothered him, I suppose. Perfection is static. There was no drive in such a world. That radiant peace was a blanket that would spread out to other places, warm and comforting, and smother all development. In this perfection, he thought, he had failed. A wave of sadness came over him. If only that were enough to redeem the scene. But he had overcooked this one.

    He walked back in from the veranda, to the cooler shade of the marble inside and then out the door of the villa. Meanwhile, the atoms of every bit of matter in that world began to quiver. An energy excited them, moved them around in their places, and then compelled them to break rank. In great bursts of light and heat, the sailboats, the bathers, the seagulls, the azure sea, all of it, was unmade. It became energy, and then nothing. And then a thought in his head as he slowly drove away.

    By mattlock URL on 04.25.2017