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Empty Hands
He rode in town on a white horse
With nothing in his hands
He came to gather his people
And take them to their promised land
When he came he knew there would be bloodshed
But still no violence made his plans
He came to fight in a battle
With no guns or money
But with his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
They said hey boy what you lookin'at
As they eyed his dreaded mane
He said my father has sent me
I've come back to reclaim
The children whose hearts
Were so whole and pure
Now it's you who'll die in pain
So they lynched the man
Who fooled the word
And all the children gathered
In his empty hands
In his empty hands
The children ..... empty hands
In his empty hands
With his empty hands
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking With The Lover...
walking with the Lover...
i see empty fields plowed,
come alive with crops abundant.
empty factory buildings filled
with the ghosts of hard working lives.
empty houses lit up,
and the sounds of families.
empty hands given cups and bowls,
empty hearts held close!
empty words given meaning,
empty promises fulfilled.
walking with the Lover...
touching the plenty of empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Dreamed.... (Hands)
i dreamed last night...
and all i could see were hands.
sometimes hard and calloused,
sometimes soft and feminine.
skilled hands, laborer's hands,
loving hands, nurturing hands....
fingers digging in the dirt,
fingers holding a pen.
fingers playing a piano,
fingers unbuttoning blouses.
hands extended, hands gripping the rope,
hands holding the shovel,
hands covered with resin.
hands folded in prayer,
hands balled into fists.
hands stuffed in empty pockets.
hands that define both history,
and destiny!
hands scarred and bruised,
hands covered with age spots.
hands that speak many languages.
hands that know mistakes, and failures.
hands that built fires,
hands that put fires out!
hands that wiped away tears,
that picked up trash,
and revealed souls....
whose hands?
my hands, your hands?
god's hands?
does it really matter?
hands engaged and involved,
in the very act of living!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Our Hands
My hands once warm,
And clothed in yours,
my hands once full,
and held in yours.
Empty hands,
Cold hands,
my hands have lost their,
Partner as you once were for me,
Your hands at once rough,
and soft,
Always gentle when in mine,
our hands would meet to fill the cold,
My hands now empty cover tears,
my hands once warm now with
a freezing touch,
your hands are gone,
the warmth they held has left,
these hands of mine.
poem by Rebecca Adams
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Our Cupid
Beautiful faces
All around the place
Sweet voices
From lovely persons
But what are they to me
While deep in me
I need a face and voice
Some are in company
Some are lonely
Some hate the company
Some jealous of the lonely
Do you long for hawks? Yes, hawks!
Lonely in thought for hawks
Better be lonely
Than be ripped apart
Sucked like orange
And dumped as garbage
One day will be your strike from the cupid
poem by Izuoma Ibe
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Keep Your Lure In The Water
Chorus:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
The lord said, "Simon, haul your nets in
From now on you're a fisher of men"
Well, I like fishin',
That's why it caught my ear
The Lord knew how to get to me
And what I'd need to hear
Chous:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
--- Instrumental ---
Well the sea is troubled
And it's hard to stay afloat
And you feel like Jesus
Is sleeping in the boat
Don't you dare give up
On the Prince of Peace
And in the middle of the storm
You will find a sweet release
Chorus:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
Chorus:
Yeah, Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
Yeah, keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Yours
When all my hopes and dreams
Have been betrayed
I stand before you
My hands are empty
I am yours
If you are mine
When I fall and stumble
Flat on my face
When Im shamed and humbled
In disgrace
I am yours
If you are mine
When voices call me
To question my faith
When misperception
Taints my love with hate
I am yours
If you are mine
When time decides
It wont stop for me
When the hawks and vultures
Are circling
I am yours
If you are mine
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty Hands!
empty hands
is the essence.
dreams, way of life.
life encompasses death!
empty hands, the way we live
empty hands, the way we die!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken
fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control
empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man
broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights
fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...
fallen, empty, and broken...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Empty
try looking at my hands
they are empty now
for i have released
what fullness was there
what fist
what clenched hands i had
once they were so
beautiful
in bravery
but
then
there is always a threshold
of courage
suddenly you find hands opening
to the sun
hands without a grip
hands that wave goodbye
to all your friends
hands that
grasp nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hope Alone
let's not drag this out
everything's in motion
though i've only ever loved you kind
and with devotion
i remember when i met you
and even from the start
i thought one day you'd probably just come home
and break my heart
it's funny what you know
and still go on pretending
with no good evidence
you'll ever see that happy ending
you
looking for your distance
and sensing my resistance
you had to do your will
i
had to learn the hard way
we were just an empty dream too big
for hope alone to fill
i know i'm a dreamer
(i know that i'm a)
so i'll give you that
(dreamer)
still i hope i'm more than just a place
(still i hope i'm more)
you laid your hat
(than a place you laid your hat)
you're a land of secrets
(you are its only)
its only citizen
(citizen)
and though i paid my dues
(though i paid)
i was never allowed in
(i was never allowed in)
and so i am a stranger
(so i am a stranger)
especially today
(especially today)
as i get sad and lonely
and you get your way
you
were looking for your distance
and sensing my resistance
you had to do your will
i
i had to learn the hard way
that we were just an empty dream too big
for hope alone to fill
holding on for change i know
we never stood a chance
(no we never stood a chance)
so i could only wait
and watch you slip right through my hands
(watch you slip right through my hands)
you
were always looking for your distance
and sensing my resistance
you had to do your will
i
i had to learn the hard way
we were just an empty dream too big
for hope alone to fill
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lure Of Writing
The lure of writing
is not an easy one to break
once it has you in its grip.
It won’t let you go,
make no mistake.
You can struggle all you want,
but you can never win.
You can turn your back on it
saying I will never write again,
but you will.
The lure of writing
is not and easy one to break,
it will seduce you with dreams
and no matter how many times
they are crushed
the lure of writing
will draw you back again
and again and again.
25 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Hard Eyes
hard eyes stare into the night...
hard eyes with calloused gentle hands.
hard eyes that have listened and seen.
hard eyes that have touched.
hard eyes that have fought
battles that couldnt be won...
hard eyes that have shared
the suffering of others....
hard eyes that have known beauty and loss...
hard eyes that make choices that are not easy.
hard eyes that have been betrayed,
hard eyes that have loved...
hard eyes that cross the threshold...
hard eyes of the sword and cross.
hard eyes that look into the soul,
and sometimes even smile.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Hands Of Time!
the hands of a small child,
shaping sand on the beach.
the flutter of wings,
a sparrow's first flight.
seeds planted by hand
in the fresh plowed ground.
the light teasing shadows,
late afternoon to night.
the war hero's silence,
his eyes grown hard.
the family burying the child,
the mother cannot weep.
the hungry stare
of poverty's stink.
the addict's hard edge,
bare rooms, bare walls.
the hanging tree,
and the lovers oak.
the bullet in the chamber,
and the open mission.
the church locked empty,
boxes to beds in the alley.
the old man who cant forgive
what the young boy did.
the hands of a small child...
the hands of time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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To Be (Love Poem)
Sometimes it’s hard to be apart
Sometimes it’s hard to be brave
Sometimes it’s hard to be cold
Sometimes it’s hard to be daring
Sometimes it’s hard to be early
Sometimes it’s hard to be friends
Sometimes it’s hard to be good
Sometimes it’s hard to be happy
Sometimes it’s hard to be in-love
Sometimes it’s hard to be just
Sometimes it’s hard to be kind
Sometimes it’s hard to be lovely
Sometimes it’s hard to be mellow
Sometimes it’s hard to be nasty
Sometimes it’s hard to be out
Sometimes it’s hard to be poor
Sometimes it’s hard to be quiet
Sometimes it’s hard to be ready
Sometimes it’s hard to be simple
Sometimes it’s hard to be together
poem by Ian Beckett
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Hands of Life
I wash my hands
in the days
And the years slip
between my fingers
Leaving them clean
except for bits of weeks
Under my nails that
are hard to get out,
hard to forget
Life has left them
hard and cracked
Scared and scaled
mangled and crushed
And so are my hands
poem by Midnights Voice
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