Related quotes: Wash and clean your hands...

Soiled Hands

Wash and clean your hands
My lesson teacher taught me
That it brings personal hygiene
I abide by this instruction
But as I traversed the land
As I looked around me
I amazingly see soiled hands.
Elders hands are dirty.
Kings finger tips
Are putrefied with red oil.
Servants hands are dipped
Into the forbidden pots.
Horrid and foul smells
Oozes into the air space
Floods of dirts overflow
Our dear mother land
Our treasures are vanished
Via our soiled hands

poem by Babatunde Aremu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

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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In Good Hands..

In the hands of a gifted teacher
A classroom is a magical place! ! !
In the hands of a gifted teacher
There's a smile on each child's face.
In the hands of gifted teacher Creative energy is every where.
In the hands of gifted teacher
There's a catalyst who genuinely care.
In the hands of gifted teacher Desire and wonder is awakened.
In the hands of gifted teacherEducation agenda is shaken.
In the hands of gifted teacher Self managment skills are manupulated In the hands of gifted teacherThe best of reality is modeled.
In the hands of gifted teacher Gifts and talents are refined.
In the hands of gifted teacher The desired future is designed.
AND YOR THE TEACHER GIFTED TO MY HANDS! ! ! !

poem by Maanasa Bhaskar
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In Good Hands

In the hands of a gifted teacher
a classroom is a magical place
In the hands of a gifted teacher
There’s a smile on each child's face
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Creative Energy is Everywhere
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
There’s a Catalyst who Genuinely Cares
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Desire and Wonder is Awakened
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
The Educational Agenda is Shaken
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Self-Management Skills are Modeled
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
The Best of Reality is Bottled
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Gifts and Talents are Refined
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
The Willed Future is Designed

poem by Ultimate Cyan
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Tees spoon

Hand is
Use for eat...
Ok...
Wash every time
At your's hands...
At every works...
Wash your's hands...
Clean...
with clean...
Wash And eat food...
Tell about your children
Today...
Wash hands
And eat...
You are lazy
Don't wash
Your hands...
Use tees spoon...!

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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My heart is my hands

My hands

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing To Gein

Cold and silent, soiled face I will wash it all away,
With my love,
Thats all shes ever needed, from me
Its my time, to mother,
One of my own in my life,
I am so alone, left with no one
In my life, Im so alone
Life submissiveness,
Hypnotizing the ignorant a little boys best friends always his mother,
At least thats what she said,
Life of a simple man,
Taught that everyone else is dirty,
And their love is meaningless,
Im just a soiled dirty boy,
Im just a soiled dirty boy,
Sheltered life innocence,
Insulated memories, spark reflections of my head,
Duality in my consciousness,
Caught in the war of hemispheres,
Between the love lost in my head,
Mommy do you still live inside of me,
Im so lost in my life without any guiding,
Protected me my whole life from everything,
Nailed shut the doors to the shrine,
To screen your dead eyes from me and my sickness,
Mutilate and sew my new clothes for masquerading,
Aprons of flesh corpse scalped hair with skin upon my face,
Deliver the remains from her womb of earth,
Prep the rack and tie up for new loves rebirth,
Covert understanding of novice surgery,
Ill focus concentration and only take just what I need
For sickness Im masticating,
Dancing and masturbating,
Celebrate in fields of night with skin upon my face
If I soak my hands in others blood am I sick,
If I wash my hands in others blood am I sick,
If I drench myself in others blood am I sick,
If I bathe myself in others blood
Blame mother for the sickness,
Mutilate and sew my new clothes for masquerading,
Aprons of flesh corpse scalped hair with skin upon my face,
Dance and masturbate in night light by myself..
Nothing is left for me to gain theyre coming to take me far away,
Chorus
Life of a simple man taught that everyone else is dirty and love is meaningless
Im so soiled
Soiled

song performed by by Mudvayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hands In The Air

Words and music by bob seger, craig frost, tim mitchell
Ive seen two time losers running everywhere
Shouting and screamin, I was never there!
With their hands in the air
Hands in the air
Ive seen bad news messengers avoiding kings
Cheating spouses twisting their rings
With their hands in the air
Oooh, got their hands in the air
As guilty as the wind out on the sea
Affecting who we are and who well be
Theres a desperation, a real despair
Even the good people are starting to declare
Ive got my hands in the air
Ah my hands are in the air
Theyre surrendering, theyre giving in
Theyll do anything not to go through this again
Theyve got their hands in the air
Ooh, their hands in the air
And theyre sinking in the quicksand like a stone
Broken to the marrow of the bone, oh
The dealers are dividing up their tips
The gamblers, theyre all cashin in their chips
Theres a man in the middle of a parking lot
Wondering which way he should go
Theres a star on the horizon
Sinking low, low
All you death wish addicts, you corrupters of truth
You killers of the spirit, you marauders of youth
Get your hands in the air
I want to see your hands in the air
If youre selling these lies, these impossible dreams
You can keep on washin but youll never get clean
Get your hands in the air
Let me see your hands in the air

song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hands

The little hands too soft and white
To have known more laborious hours
Than those which die upon a night
Of kindling wine and fading flowers;

The little hands that I have kissed,
Finger by finger, to the tips,
And delicately about each wrist
Have set a bracelet with my lips;

Dear soft white little morbid hands,
Mine all one night, with what delight
Shall I recall in other lands,
Dear hands, that you were mine one night!

poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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Ad Manus Puellae

I was always a lover of ladies' hands!
Or ever mine heart came here to tryst,
For the sake of your carved white hands' commands;
The tapering fingers, the dainty wrist;
The hands of a girl were what I kissed.

I remember an hand like a _fleur-de-lys_
When it slid from its silken sheath, her glove;
With its odours passing ambergris:
And that was the empty husk of a love.
Oh, how shall I kiss your hands enough?

They are pale with the pallor of ivories;
But they blush to the tips like a curled sea-shell:
What treasure, in kingly treasuries,
Of gold, and spice for the thurible,
Is sweet as her hands to hoard and tell?

I know not the way from your finger-tips,
Nor how I shall gain the higher lands,
The citadel of your sacred lips:
I am captive still of my pleasant bands,
The hands of a girl, and most your hands.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Hands Up!

Live and direct, busy again.
Let there be rhythm, let there be fun.
Were just warming up to rock the groove.
On our journey of sound we gonna make you move.
You know what I mean.
In search for something like the next tomorrow
Ive got a suggestion and I need you to follow.
Hands up! hands up!
Hands up! yeeeeaheah!
This is the voice from outer space,
Responsible rhythm for the human race.
No return, no regret but resurrection.
We shout it out loud to get a reaction.
Jump all up, keep it up to the top.
That was then but this is now.
What a wonderful day just let yourself go.
Hands up! hands up!
Hands up! yeeeeaheah!
Cmon!! allright.
Once again! hands up!
Hands up! hands up! yeeeeaheah!
Yeeeeeeheah.

song performed by by Scooter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Red With Native Blood

Give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
We have soiled it so, with our hands,
red with native blood.
The earth was stained, when we first came,
red with native blood.
We stole their domain, with a barbaric claim:
that we were civilised and they were not,
that they were the savages and we were not,
when we ravaged the land that began to clot,
red with native blood.

Not content with genocide
we interned them in reserves.
To break their culture
and tribal ways;
in stealing children
the state was brave,
to turn their women
into household slaves,
and hope their men would die,
unmourned, in lonely graves;
a problem to us no more.

Give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
Acknowledge their just demands,
wash the stains from our hands,
give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.

poem by David SmithWhite
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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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Hands

The hands of power
are rough and dirty-nailed
and the hands of love
are often assailed
but never will they die.

The hands of love
are smooth and clean
and the hands of power
are always mean
but someday they will die.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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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

poem by Sari Mavi
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My mother's hands

My mother had thick, wide, hands,
callused from years of hard work.
I used to like to hold them,
feel their strength and warmth

Those were the hands that cared,
caressed and held her me close.
Those were the hands that scrubbed
and washed, cooked for us and nursed.

My mother had beautiful hands
and would paint her nails light pink.
They were warm, artistic hands
that could crochet well and knit.

Those were the hands that created,
made beautiful shawls and clothes.
Those were the hands that altered dresses
I wore ‘til they were old.

My mother had beautiful hands
that cooked and cleaned and scrubbed,
and within the things that those hands did
were bundles and bundles of love.

poem by Ruth Walters
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Come Next Winter, Friends

COME NEXT WINTER, FRIENDS

I WILL WAIT WITH MY SON IN MY HANDS
FORGET NOT COMING TO MY LAND MY FRIENDS

WHEN THE WOODS BLOOM WITH FLOWERS OF SNOW
WHEN THE BOREAS BRING YOU HELL WITH BLOW
WHEN YOUR HEARTS CRAVE FOR WARMTH AND GLOW