Entries By Finch
Displaying 1 To 30 Of 31 Entries
porter
porter is a word that i do not know the meaning of. It sounds like something to do with the ocean, one that I could not be bothered looking up in the dictionary. Furthermore, I only have been granted with a mere 60 seconds, so I am trying to write as much as
Posted By Finch On 08.18.2012 @ 6:08 pm
poison
I thought I was clever, avoiding a shower and just wiping off using a rag and the water faucet. But when I felt the sting on my foot, as the poison entered my blood stream, I knew my mistake. Fire ants swarmed over my foot, and as I scrambled to get them off they put more poison in my very sensitive-allergic-to-fire-ants foot.
Posted By Finch On 08.21.2011 @ 1:58 pm
cigarette
I sit on the back porch, overlooking the lake with the quaint house and rocky mountains behind me. Grandma, grandpa, and mom and dad work in the kitchen on dinner. I sit with Uncle while he pollutes the fresh Colorado air with his cigarette.
Posted By Finch On 07.15.2011 @ 7:17 pm
mean
I didn’t mean it when I said you were pretty. I didn’t mean it when I said you were smart. I didn’t mean it when I said you were better than me. I was just too scared, and you were simply too mean.
Posted By Finch On 07.10.2011 @ 1:43 pm
maroon
Maroon spilled from his mouth, and mingled on the floor with the tears that came from his now unseeing eyes.
Posted By Finch On 07.08.2011 @ 7:54 am
cast
Sitting on the dock, with the sun burning my legs despite grotesque amounts of sunscreen, I was very happy. Aunt cast her line and started to reel furiously. Excited we stood up to see what she caught… nothing. The line was caught.. As she pulled and tugged fruitlessly, the wind picked up, grabbed her beach chair, and threw it right over the edge into the murky water. Guess who was given the honor of retrieving it.
Posted By Finch On 07.07.2011 @ 7:22 am
belief
“I believe what I believe, it’s what makes me what I am…” I always sang along to this rockin’ Third Day song, but only recently did the true meaning hit me. A firm declaration of faith — something a bit intimidating to casually sing about.
Posted By Finch On 06.18.2011 @ 7:05 pm
smile
It crept in. I didn’t mean to let it show. But it did. After months of long distance phone calls It crept in. Maybe it had been there in every smile and laugh but this time she saw it. I had meant to hold off till the perfect time, and apparently that was now. In a smile, “I love you” crept in and she saw it and smiled back.
Posted By Finch On 06.16.2011 @ 5:11 pm
embraced
It has been months — almost a year and now our reunion is a mere week away. After surviving on lengthy phone conversations, sweet letters in the mail, and the occasional video chat for so long, I cannot begin to imagine what that long expected embrace will feel like.
Posted By Finch On 06.13.2011 @ 1:32 pm
rise
Clawing, creeping, crawling, we will rise. We are not the things you see in the movies, or the things you shoot in the video games. We are not the lumbering stupid giants you wish we were. We are your worst nightmare — the living dead.
Posted By Finch On 06.10.2011 @ 1:16 pm
forgetting
He keeps forgetting. Every day I visit and say the same things, tell the same stories, and answer the same questions. Every day I show him the same garden and sit on the same bench, and every day he keeps forgetting. He forgets the stories, the questions, the garden, the bench, and me. He keeps forgetting me, his wife.
Posted By Finch On 06.07.2011 @ 12:28 pm
painted
When she first headed West, her hand was guided by a strong man, the home stable and quaint, and her face clean, innocent, and hopeful. Now, her hand is pulled by shameless men, the house is crowded and a cesspool, and her face is a carefully painted mask.
Posted By Finch On 06.06.2011 @ 5:35 pm
sideburns
I like being a girl. Dressing up, sun bathing, squealing, screaming, girl talks, sleep overs — a few of the things I love about being a girl. However, I do, occasionally, wish I could have sideburns.
Posted By Finch On 05.30.2011 @ 9:54 am
despair
I’ve been there. And yes, it is a hard, dark, sour, cold place. But, one thing it is not is impossible. No matter how long in that hole you stay there is hope, even though you can’t if you can’t see it.
Posted By Finch On 05.29.2011 @ 11:11 am
mint
Mint filled the air as the words spilled out of the officer’s mouth. I am not sure that they had lights on, or even if he wore a uniform. But I know he smelled so strongly of sweet mint, as he played the grim reaper in the middle of the night.
Posted By Finch On 05.27.2011 @ 5:21 pm
forgotten
I stare at the page, numb with fear and worry. A glance at the clock confirms my fears, I am running out of time, and still the blank page leers at me. I can’t remember how to solve this page. All I learned is now forgotten.
Posted By Finch On 05.15.2011 @ 12:23 pm
wasteland
When you are gone, what will be left? How can you leave us, unsure of who will fill your spot? What if they can’t do it justice? What if they are a hypocrite? What if they just don’t get it? Don’t get us? What if we turn into a wasteland? Don’t leave.
Posted By Finch On 05.13.2011 @ 7:58 pm
glowing
It is glowing, floating just out of reach. And it vanishes. The girls prances over, and freezes — a huntress on the prowl. It lights again, and in a bound, with unexpected graces, she snatches him right out of the air — her little captive firefly.
Posted By Finch On 05.12.2011 @ 6:28 pm
bones
Fire runs through my bones. He doesn’t know what he is talking about. How dare he. How dare he make such proclamations about her not once, but over and over and over again. My bones quiver. I feel the fire rising. He won’t be swayed,but only rages onward. I leave the room before they burst.
Posted By Finch On 05.11.2011 @ 6:36 pm
eyeliner
I wince, my eyes aren’t used to this much crap on them. Under, over, on the side, I layer the eyeliner on, dust dark eye shadow, and finish it with painfully thick mascara. Hello, new me.
Posted By Finch On 05.05.2011 @ 11:49 am
bandana
At my school, it was the annual dodge ball tournament, and all the teams were all out. With crazy team names from “Fragile Little Biscuits” to “Caucasian Invasion” they filled the halls, with home made shirts, and colorful bandanas on their heads… except administration decided that bandanas were a sign of gangs, and therefore made them take them all off under strict threats. Meanwhile half the female population walked around half naked and boys walked with shirts littered with innuendo and profanity.
Posted By Finch On 05.02.2011 @ 6:36 pm
fluorescent
Down the halls with the white light and the white suits and the white walls I go. At loss of where I am… who I am… what I am. The lights fade, and I am gone.
Posted By Finch On 05.01.2011 @ 12:57 pm
deadbolt
I slam the bolt and let out a scream. This madness feels like a nightmare, one I can’t escape — a cage of my own making. I check the deadbolt. I scream again. There is no where to go.
Posted By Finch On 04.28.2011 @ 12:08 pm
iron
Iron sharpens iron, or so the Psalms says. It makes sense though. If we surround ourselves by those stronger than us, then they will dull us to strengthen themselves. Likewise, if we surround ourselves by weak people, we will only dull as we try to help them.
Posted By Finch On 04.24.2011 @ 8:14 am
acoustic
I played for a while. But, I was more in love with my funny guitar teacher, Mr. Terri, than the instrument itself. After we moved, I never got another teacher, and now I can hardly play at all. Pretty tragic really. I wish I had kept it up, but now I lack the determination to start again.
Posted By Finch On 04.19.2011 @ 6:36 am
whiskey
On his breath, it lingers. Cutting through the air in between them. She regards him with love, the whiskey, with contempt. It ruins him. It betrays her. It terrifies her. It ruins both of them. But there is nothing to be done, but love, and try to move forward.
Posted By Finch On 04.17.2011 @ 11:18 am
aware
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew what was going on, but I wasn’t quite there. Everything streamed together through the rainy windows, an organic painting of my surroundings, nothing quite beginning, nothing ending. This was my suburban nightmare. In the back seat, drifting through a maze of cul de sacs.
Posted By Finch On 11.30.2008 @ 8:15 am
outlet
We save and strive and plan for the outlet to our daily disfunction. Rarely do we look internally, though that is invariably where our true outlet is resting, waiting to help.
Posted By FINCH On 01.29.2010 @ 3:54 pm
storage
Memories and the unyielding sentiment of days long gone by. We store and rid and store again. Loop after loop, crammed to the furthest corners. Is storage nothing but baggage? Or does it all serve some profound purpose in our lives? To toss or to cherish. Regret neither, for the decision is made.
Posted By FINCH On 01.27.2010 @ 9:44 pm
