One hand washes the other.
Seneca in The Pumpkinification of Claudius
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Nebuchadnezzar
If my wife is so beautiful,
Leave her to me alone than sleeping with her;
For there are all types of churches on the Mount of Corruption!
The left hand washes the right hand and,
The right hand washes the left hand too;
So let us keep on going in this status of life.
Nebuchadnezzar, you are camping my wife like she is for you;
But i am loved by Yahweh to fight on!
So do leave my wife alone for me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The left hand washes the right and the right washes the left.
Lightning Strike
The lighting brings back memories.
The thunder shows my anger.
As the rain washes it away.
the birds fly by, I see my dreams.
As they go home. they're stolen from me.
As the rain washes it away.
The pedal filled with rain drops, I know I'm hurt.
As the rain drops roll off, they're like my tears.
As the rain washes it away.
The clouds are like my soul.
They hide the sun, like I hide my feelings.
As the rain washes it away.
As I sit on my porch,
Watching the rain wash things away.
I see that the storms a lot like me.
poem by Fugly Fool
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And Death Washes Only Bones
And death washes only bones;
The mouth of death speaks oft of every tounge
Never his patience once lost is found in all your nature;
Death washes a bone and the astrologer hands two back,
So the moon when lined up, shines down on Venus asleep.
Time smiles on the heart beating and long of face therein,
death puts it back on the middle shelf prearanged.
And death washes only bones;
Deep valleys are filled with man's rich oil,
And covered over memories by death too often dredged.
Lined up end to end exposed again to harvest the tears of wait;
And death washes only bones and man who drinks so bold,
There being no truth and lies sown shut death eyes all bottoms.
d.t.
poem by Is It Poetry
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When one hand washes another, both become clean.
One hand washes the other and both wash the face.
One hand washes the other and both of them wash the face.
Ive Been High
Have you seen?
Have not, will travel.
Have I missed the big reveal?
Do my eyes
Do my eyes seem empty?
Ive forgotten how this feels.
Ive been high
Ive climbed so high
But life sometimes
It washes over me.
Have you been?
Have done, will travel.
I fell down on me knees.
Was I wrong?
I dont know, dont answer.
I just needed to believe.
Ive been high
Ive climbed so high
But life sometimes
It washes over me.
So
I dive into a pool so cool and deep that if I sink i
Sink
And when I swim I fly so high
What I want
What I really want is
Just to live my life on high.
And I know
I know you want the same
I can see it in your eyes.
Ive been high
Ive climbed so high
But life sometimes
It washes over me.
Washes over me
Close my eyes so I can see
Make my make-believe believe
In me.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rhythm Of The Day
The moon is bright, so high, so cool
The sun, fumbles, gazes in the grass
The lake sparkles, smiles, in the grey
Smiling at each day
The verse, comes from the east
The west dangles, dances within
a bawl inside
Rivers cropping, like spokes
And is agrand pa Mulanje mountain
And, to the south, Viphya
with birds, smiling
Order of the day is shaking
Vigorous heads retakes brittle words
Words of wisdom from all walks of life
Smiling at the ridged land
Before is a reclaim of the garden
So, beautiful and the lake washes,
washes, washes, washes
While the doleful king points out,
points out, points out so high
So high, is the song, and birds
Slander and go
In the rhythm of the day
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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One hand washes the other, both hands wash the face.
Swimming In Light
soul prepares spirit
for time of bonding
swimming in light
harmonic luminous light
washes over carbon senses
washes soul purity bright
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Purifier
Water for shower washes away bodily dirt
Drinking water washes away dirt of body’s internal organs
And cleanses blood
Tears washes away dirt of mind
Thus teardrops carry away sins of all kind
And make people good
And give them the power to control mood.
From the lowermost paradise
Breeze will be blown sometimes
In the uppermost hell
So the sinners living there will be able to cry
And become good people
That’s why they will be forgiven someday or other
But the sinners of other hells
Will not be able to shed tears
Because of extreme hot weather
So they will be punished forever and ever.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Manus Manum Lavat
it is always with One Hand
that Washes the Other
Friends or Lovers
Husbands and Wives
Two hands dipped On Water
Cooling and Resting
Two Hands Sounding to A Clap
From a Basin of Water
One Hand on Top of the Other
Comforting and Sharing and
Keeping the Silence with the Water
Between them The Time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On A Similar Character (From The Greek)
You give your cheks a rosy stain,
With washes dye your hair;
But paint and washes both are vain
To give a youthful air.
Those wrinkles mock your daily toil,
No labor will efface 'em,
You wear a mask of smoothest oil,
Yet still with ease we trace 'em.
An art so fruitless then forsake,
Which though you much excel in,
You never can contrive to make
Old Hecuba young Helen.
poem by William Cowper
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My Other Hand...
the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just Know About It
One hand washes the other,
But your potentials on this love are known to all;
So just think about it because i love you.
Low and slow,
Nice and easy,
Sweet and lovely;
Just know about it because i love you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Soiled Garments
He had a vindictive
wife once
who used his pliable
pledged heart
like an old worn
out hand-towel.
Wiped her feet
all over it
walked walked
all over it
then tore it
into strips
and threw it
to the garbage.
The funny thing is
old worn out hearts
don’t wash clean.
Soiled garments
don’t come clean
a single good soak
and clean
is not applicable.
Doesn’t wash out
all the stains.
Doesn’t wash out
the ground in pain.
Ground in deep pain
residue remains.
But time repeated washes
a good stain remover
love joy drying out on
life line bleach washes
old hearts clean with
radiant rays vibrant
sunlight sheen revealing
each days new wonder.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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