Words Without Name Volume 3

Words Without Name Volume 2

By Ted Finch

Shakespir Edition

Copyright 2016 Ted Finch

 

Shakespir Edition, License Notes

 

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Shakespir.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

Albuquerque Sunset

 

God sketched the western clouds of New Mexico tonight

He dabbed them pink and puffy with His brush,

Making new colors as the sun kisses the horizon.

 

Autumn

 

The sweet Fall winds

Pull the leaves from the trees

 

Massaging the green into yellow, orange, and red.

 

Craving War

 

A shaky hand reaches into his pocket

He steadies his weak body with the support

Of the bus stop

To his relief, he finds ½ a cigarette

Marked with someone’s maroon lipstick

“I think it’s from the woman I shared my lunch with”

Fumbling with his red $2 lighter,

He burns an already rough and calloused index finger

Finally, that familiar craving is cured.

Three deep breaths,

Exhaling through his nose he watches the smoke rise

He lets go of the bus stop sign,

Flicks the burning stick into the air, and wonders.

“What will I do when my afternoon craving is here?”

 

Prayer

 

Dear God,

 

I am grateful

That you listen to me.

 

Epiphany

 

Flipping the switch

On the white wall plate

A light bulb illuminate,

 

You remember

How good it feels

To be in the light.

 

Faith

 

Faith is believing without seeing

It is walking out the door with a smile on your face

Without knowing there is a disaster

Waiting for you at your 10:30 appointment

 

Faith is waking up in the morning

Remembering your hopes and dreams

Pressing forward, doing what you can

Not realizing that you won’t be ready

for them for another twenty years

 

Faith is acting on a prompting

When you don’t know why

When logically it makes no sense

Only forgetting that your eyes are limited by time

They are not what God sees

 

Faith is continuing to walk,

Continuing to move even when

You start to understand what is required of you

When you start to recognize

The presence of heaven in the path ahead

 

ING

 

Sitting on the edge of the seashore

Watching the waves crash on the sand

Listening to the music in the wind

Remembering adventures from the past

Seeing all the familiar faces

Hearing the sounds

That life’s experiences have brought.

 

Morning Commute

 

Another cool morning when the steam

Rises off the side ponds of the

Great Salt Lake

 

The rising eastern sun blinds me

While it filters through the

Early morning haze

 

Listening to the voice behind the speakers

Talk about traffic, about politics

About God.

 

My Feathered Friend

 

My feathered friend,

I watch you soar as my fly bounces in the rapid ripples.

Your wings not yet reaching a full span or color, they’re still premature

As you circle above me, water runs around me,

my knees stiffen, the mountain runoff freezes me.

I keep watching your soar, while standing in frigid liquid.

 

Opening of the Eye’s Mind

 

Tiny thoughts bubble into ideas and

connections that open your eyes and

mind to the possibilities that

God sees from His eternal throne.

 

Letters and syllables start to jump off the page,

they fly from the speakers to your

mind in response to the question

that you still ponder quietly in your

heart.

 

Snow Shoveling

 

Little flakes bob and weave,

darting through the air

as Old Man Winter exhales his

frosty breath.

 

Little flakes pile on their siblings,

who were born from another

day’s storm.

 

Little piles blown into drifts

as Jack Frost shovels a

path to make way for

his icy lane.

 

The Hiking List

 

Three boxes of waterproof matches

Five rolls of extra fluffy toilet paper

Fourteen gallons of water

One shower pump.

 

The Signs

 

The skies are filled with a gray haze,

The ground’s only color is white.

The air has turned cold

So cold that when you inhale your nose sticks to itself,

Your hair turns frosty when it is wet.

Your cheeks get rosy, and your lips chapped

Now you know that winter is back.

 

The Storm

 

Rain drops

Beading and bouncing

Puddles and soaked clothes

Spots dried on the windows

 

The Tree

 

The picture frames hang on the wall

Covered with traces of dust and age

Great grandmother and father

Brother, sister, and other family members

I find the faces staring back at me

Telling me their story,

The ones I wasn’t there to see.

 

The Trees

 

The old neighborhood trees don’t recognize me anymore.

Me, the five year old, and my daddy planted them.

He said they would add to the landscape,

But I don’t even know what landscapes are.

All I know is my summer chore list just got larger.

 

Son,

Please water all the trees for fifteen minutes a day.

Dad

 

This became my summer job.

Now, when I pass the circle at the end of Everon Drive,

The trees play with the clouds,

Never looking for us old kids.

 

The Year’s First Frost

 

Fall has come,

The leaves float and flutter down.

A naked tree is washed with winter’s wanting wind.

Now Old Man Winter touches her,

She shivers, shakes, and falls apart

Frozen by his cold winter heart.

 

Time stream

 

The wind blows past his outstretched fingers

Grains of sand, salt, earth, and air

All particles of creation

 

Days --

Minutes --

Months --

Seconds --

Years --

 

Time flows like running water.

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