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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem 4
YE Nymphes of Mulla which with carefull heed,
The siluer scaly trouts doe tend full well,
and greedy pikes which vse therein to feed,
(Those trouts and pikes all others doo excell)
And ye likewise which keepe the rushy lake,
Where none doo fishes take.
Bynd vp the locks the which hang scatterd light,
And in his waters which your mirror make,
Behold your faces as the christall bright,
That when you come whereas my loue doth lie,
No blemish she may spie.
And eke ye lightfoot mayds which keepe the dore,
That on the hoary mountayne vie to towre,
And the wylde wolues which seeke them to deuoure,
With your steele darts doo chace fro[m] comming neer
Be also present heere,
To helpe to decke her and to help to sing,
That all the woods may answer and your eccho ring.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Today, a skilled manager makes more than the owner. And owners fight each other to get the skilled managers.
quote by Mikhail Khodorkovsky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's no catching trouts with dry breeches.
Those who are skilled in combat do not become angered, those who are skilled at winning do not become afraid. Thus the wise win before they fight, while the ignorant fight to win.
quote by Kongming (Zhuge Liang)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vote bank policy
Are you below poverty line
Take 30 kilos rice / wheat
Take five hundred rupees
Take Indra awas house
Take Khadi cloth
We are for you
Give us your valuable vote.
And what more?
We do not want to make you skilled
And what is the value of that
And we are not here
To skilled you in some trade.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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With these men and women who work-for the cause with all their hearts, with cool heads and skilled hands we will master every fate.
quote by Gustav Krupp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The privilege of ruling would be in the hands of the skilled and the learned, with a wide scope left for profitable crooked deals carried on by the Jews, who would be attracted by the enormous extension of the international speculations of the national banks.
quote by Mikhail Bakunin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Have
As I look at old fortifications
that are dotted around my country,
I often wonder about the craftsmen
who worked so hard to build them
without the aid of our modern technology.
How skilled they were with their hands
when you look at the beauty
of their ornate decorations
that make those old building stand out.
You sit and ponder now
where have all their skills gone.
13 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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My heart is my hands
My hands
Is
Only my hands...
Not for
your hands....
So...
I want too work
My hands...
I want too serve
My hands...
I want to do about
Somthing of my
Hands...
My hands is
Free for only
Sleeping time only...
my hands is
working all the times
My hands not only
Hands...
It is human workers...
Allways for my friends...
My hands...is my heart...
My heart is my hands.....
Ok...How is your hands...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Only Name Unspoken!
lovers share the same breath,
even from distant shores.
while poets of the revolution,
linger by fires long dead.
the human heart changes,
slowly, with agonizing feet.
the hint of truth merely,
the perfume of fallen trees.
no I and you, only the bridge,
that comes from and leads to
the unmapped flame!
the soul has hands,
well skilled and driven by need...
when the only need is we,
the only name unspoken!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Little Request To The Magician Who Pleased Me For A While
dear magician
i thank you for your tricks
indeed your hands
are skilled and my eyes
are failing me
i am amazed by the rabbit
popping out from your
black hat
the roses blooming
from your palms
the staff that turned
to rope
the newspaper cutting
becoming peso bills
but with due respect
may i ask you to perform
the last magic for the day
and hope that this may
not be a form of request
that may cause you
sorrow
for parting is such
between us
please make yourself
disappear.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Only Wish
I only wish I were a better person
And do at least one good deed every day
There is plenty room for me of self improvement
On the righteous path to go I have some way.
In the World there are so many good people
Some doctors and nurses go to Countries far away
To improve the health of poverty stricken people
Without Government assistance or any cash for pay.
Some semi skilled and skilled people leave their Hometowns
For to work in Lands where poverty is rife
To impart their knowledge to the poor less privileged
And help them to attain for themselves a far better life.
I only wish I were a better person
Since that is all to which I do aspire,
So many who do lead by good example
And these are the people that I do most admire.
poem by Francis Duggan
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American Made (Nowhere To Turn)
American made....
in the fields, backs bent,
working the earth....
in the factories,
hands, eyes, and machines,
moving in well oiled unison....
in the mills,
cloth woven into warmth
and cover.....
on the sites,
buildings going up,
block by block.....
in the trucks,
barreling across the highways,
carrying goods coast to coast....
in the hospitals,
skilled hands healing,
hearts with shoes.....
American made,
standing in unemployment lines,
vacant buildings, trucks shut down....
American made....
not needed anymore,
with nowhere to turn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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These Hands
Given by God -are these hands!
One can do many things -with these hands
With love one can help a strangers' hands-
Allay and comfort the elders' gnarled hands
Clean sweep and mop with these hands
Decorate and embellish with these hands
Cook and serve food to all with these hands
Clasp a loved one with these hands
Applaud one with pleasure with these hands
Dig the soil and form a garden with these hands
Hold a book to read with these hands
Write and post a card with these hands
Type a poem to cheer someone with these hands
Draw a picture and sew clothes with these hands
Paint a beautiful scene to amuse with these hands
Play a game of volley ball or cricket with these hands
Swim the waters and row a boat with these hands
Pick the harvests and fruits with these hands
Feed the animals and birds with these hands
Seek the warmth of dear ones with these hands
Feel the soft petals of a flower with these hands
Fold the palms to pray with these hands
Given by God - are these hands!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The most beatiful hands
There are no more beautiful hands
than the hands that caressed you
and rocked you when you were little.
There are no more beautiful hands
than the hands that guided you
when you took your first steps in life.
There are no more beautiful hands
than the hands that bathed you,
clothed you and fed you,
during childhood.
There are no more beautiful hands
than the hands that hugged you
and wiped away all your tears
throughout your life.
There are no more beautiful hands
than your mother's hands...
poem by Viorel Vintila
Submitted by Viorel Vintila
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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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H o p e
my little hands are always looking for you
my little hands always want to hold you
my little hands will never let you go
I want to walk and be comfortable
together in your grasp
while my little hands have not been able to conquer the world
but at the moment my little hands into a future force
hands that will always hold you
and will not let you go
smile and my little hands is hope
who will take care of you
someday - is my devotion to you
The Trout
Naughty little speckled trout,
Can't I coax you to come out?
Is it such great fun to play
In the water every day?
Do you pull the Naiads' hair
Hiding in the lilies there?
Do you hunt for fishes' eggs,
Or watch tadpoles grow their legs?
Do the little trouts have school
In some deep sun-glinted pool,
And in recess play at tag
Round that bed of purple flag?
I have tried so hard to catch you,
Hours and hours I've sat to watch you;
But you never will come out,
Naughty little speckled trout!
poem by Amy Lowell
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