Iseult Of Brittany
So delicate my hands, and long,
They might have been my pride.
And there were those to make them song
Who for their touch had died.
Too frail to cup a heart within,
Too soft to hold the free-
How long these lovely hands have been
A bitterness to me!
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Related quotes
Hula Hands
Lovely hula hands, graceful as a bird in motion
Riding like the doves over the ocean, lovely hula hands
Kah Li ma na ni'ae
Lovely hula hands, telling of the rain in the valleys
And the swirling winds over Na' Pali, lovely hula hands
Kah Li ma na ni'ae
I can feel the soft caresses of your hula hands, your lovely hula hands
Every little move expresses, so I'll understand all the tender meanings
Of your hula hands, fingertips that say Aloha
Say to me again I love you, lovely hula hands
Kah Li ma na ni'ae
I can feel the soft caresses of your hula hands, your lovely hula hands
Every litte move expresses, so I'll understand all the tender meanings
Of your hula hands, fingertips that say Aloha
Say to me again I love you, lovely hula hands
Kah Li ma na ni'ae
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Know You Will Return Back One Day
I know you will return back one day
With the touch of your hands you will heal my wounds
Those hands that at the past were companions of my road
With their tender touch how long they wiped away my tears
I will tell you about my days after the day that you have gone
I will throw my poor body in your arms and i'll cry
I know you will come and knock my door one day
And if I was not alive my spirit will be there
I will throw my tired soul in your shoulders and i'll cry
And then all my tears will disappear
In your arms my heart will born once again
To fly free at the sky and will sing your pure love song
And my heart will get free from the prison of my chest.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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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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65
My hands holding some shadows
On white laces and flowing
Whiteness of dress
You walk towards a breezy
Shore on some dreams
Your black long hair flowing
Blown against your direction
Your soft hands touch your face
In disbelief
Why this sadness must come and
Happen and linger
In your almond eyes
Sadness like the night
Hovers you except for a surprise
You hum our song
From your heart
And though faraway I will always
Be there
My hands holding some shadows
To comfort you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chocolate Chip Cookie
Like a chocolate chip cookie
I can't keep my hands off you
The moment I see or smell you
I long to have you in my hands and mouth...
You're soft to the touch, and taste so sweet
easy to digest, you make me weak
I try to resist you, but know that I can't
I long to have you..My Chocolate Chip Cookie
In the palm of my hand
poem by Velma Veleau Ridley
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My hands holding some shadows
On white laces and flowing
Whiteness of dress
You walk towards a breezy
Shore on some dreams
Your black long hair flowing
Blown against your direction
Your soft hands touch your face
In disbelief
Why this sadness must come and
Happen and linger
In your almond eyes
Sadness like the night
Hovers you except for a surprise
You hum our song
From your heart
And though faraway I will always
Be there
My hands holding some shadows
To comfort you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Song for Old Love
There shall be a song for both of us that day
Though fools say you have long outlived your songs,
And when, perhaps, because your hair is grey,
You go unsung, to whom all praise belongs,
And no men kiss your hands--your fragile hands
Folded like empty shells on sea-spurned sands.
And you that were dawn whereat men shouted once
Are sunset now, but with one worshipper,
Then to your twilight heart this song shall be
Sweeter than those that did your youth announce
For your brave beautiful spirit is lovelier
Than once your lovely body was to me.
Your folded hands and your shut eyelids stir
A passion that Time has crowned with sanctity.
Young fools shall wonder why, your youth being over,
You are so sung still, but your heart will know
That he who loved your soul was your true lover
And the last song alone was worthy you.
poem by Muriel Stuart
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Christian
Of your soft love in the soft rain,
Of your soft romantic hands in the long train,
For i am not dead but alive on this love.
I live in Serbia and i like what you've been doing for me,
And i will love you always till the sun is out of light!
For, this love is the way to my country.
I will sing for you with a soft voice when you are with me,
And i will be around always for your love;
For your soft touch on me is like the way to my home.
I have to find myself on this love,
I have to lead you on this tracks to my home;
For your romantic hands need my naked body.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Song for the Asking
A SONG! What songs have died
Upon the earth,
Voices of love and pride—
Of tears and mirth?
Fading as hearts forget,
As shadows flee!
Vain is the voice of song,
And yet—
I sing to thee!
A song! What ocean shell
Were silent long,
If in thy touch might dwell
Its all of song?
A song? Then near my heart
Thy cheek must be,
For, like the shell, it sings—
Sweet Heart—
To thee, of thee!
poem by Francis Orray Ticknor
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The Passing Of A Heart
O touch me with your hands--
For pity's sake!
My brow throbs ever on with such an ache
As only your cool touch may take away;
And so, I pray
You, touch me with your hands!
Touch--touch me with your hands.--
Smooth back the hair
You once caressed, and kissed, and called so fair
That I did dream its gold would wear alway,
And lo, to-day--
O touch me with your hands!
Just touch me with your hands,
And let them press
My weary eyelids with the old caress,
And lull me till I sleep. Then go your way,
That Death may say:
He touched her with his hands.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Dear Hands
The touches of her hands are like the fall
Of velvet snowflakes; like the touch of down
The peach just brushes 'gainst the garden wall;
The flossy fondlings of the thistle-wisp
Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of brown
The blighting frost hath turned from green to crisp.
Soft as the falling of the dusk at night,
The touches of her hands, and the delight--
The touches of her hands!
The touches of her hands are like the dew
That falls so softly down no one e'er knew
The touch thereof save lovers like to one
Astray in lights where ranged Endymion.
O rarely soft, the touches of her hands,
As drowsy zephyrs in enchanted lands;
Or pulse of dying fay; or fairy sighs,
Or--in between the midnight and the dawn,
When long unrest and tears and fears are gone--
Sleep, smoothing down the lids of weary eyes.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Touches Of Her Hand
The touches of her hands are like the fall
Of velvet snowflakes; like the touch of down
The peach just brushes 'gainst the garden wall;
The flossy fondlings of the thistle-wisp
Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of brown
The blighting frost hath turned from green to crisp.
Soft as the falling of the dusk at night,
The touches of her hands, and the delight--
The touches of her hands!
The touches of her hands are like the dew
That falls so softly down no one e'er knew
The touch thereof save lovers like to one
Astray in lights where ranged Endymion.
O rarely soft, the touches of her hands,
As drowsy zephyrs in enchanted lands;
Or pulse of dying fay; or fairy sighs;
Or--in between the midnight and the dawn,
When long unrest and tears and fears are gone--
Sleep, smoothing down the lids of weary eyes.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Too Long
It’s been too long since I felt the soft touch of a woman’s hands rub my bald head.
It’s been too long since I felt the gentleness of a woman’s lips press against mind.
It’s been too long since I cuddled with a woman’s head up against my chest listening to my heart beat.
It’s been too long since my tongue has slipped between a woman’s thighs and her juices drip down my throat.
It has been too long since I have made love to a woman and felt her inner walls pulsate.
It has been too long since a woman made my leg shake as I climax.
It’s been at least nine months and that’s far too long.
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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The Harp Of The Minstrel
The harp of the minstrel has never a tone
As sad as the song in his bosom to-night,
For the magical touch of his fingers alone
Can not waken the echoes that breathe it aright;
But oh! as the smile of the moon may impart
A sorrow to one in an alien clime,
Let the light of the melody fall on the heart,
And cadence his grief into musical rhyme.
The faces have faded, the eyes have grown dim
That once were his passionate love and his pride;
And alas! all the smiles that once blossomed for him
Have fallen away as the flowers have died.
The hands that entwined him the laureate's wreath
And crowned him with fame in the long, long ago,
Like the laurels are withered and folded beneath
The grass and the stubble--the frost and the snow.
Then sigh, if thou wilt, as the whispering strings
Strive ever in vain for the utterance clear,
And think of the sorrowful spirit that sings,
And jewel the song with the gem of a tear.
For the harp of the minstrel has never a tone
As sad as the song in his bosom tonight,
And the magical touch of his fingers alone
Can not waken the echoes that breathe it aright.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Helping Hands
You gotta believe we can change the world
Don't turn a blind eye to tomorrow's world
But on the good side looking out
Don't take for granted the silent shout
The hands of time are rolling past
To turn the tide, we must move fast
Let's share the hope and pull some strings
We hold the answer this vision sings
They're holding on
But for how long
Let's set them free
Put your helping hands together rockin' on for survival
Gotta take a stand, time to make a plan, don't sit idle
We are the key to the dreams
It's not as hard as it seems
No
Get up and put your hands together
All your helping hands
Oh yeah
We're three steps down, you're two steps back
No more widgin' and that's a fact
A call to arms, let's take a stand
It's up to you to lend a helping hand
They're holding on
But for how long
Let's set them free
Put your helping hands together rockin' on for survival
Gotta take a stand, time to make a plan, don't sit idle
We are the key to the dreams
It's not as hard as it seems
No
Get up and put your hands together
All your helping hands, yeah
We're the thunder in the storm
That brings the winds of change
Together we can overcome
And start a brand new day
Put your helping hands together rockin' on for survival (Yeah yeah)
Gotta take a stand, it's time to make a plan, don't sit idle (No, no, no, no)
Put your helping hands together rockin' on for survival
Gotta take a stand, c'mon make a plan, don't sit idle (Oh!)
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Beautiful Hands
Your hands--they are strangely fair!
O Fair--for the jewels that sparkle there,--
Fair--for the witchery of the spell
That ivory keys alone can tell;
But when their delicate touches rest
Here in my own do I love them best,
As I clasp with eager, acquisitive spans
My glorious treasure of beautiful hands!
Marvelous--wonderful--beautiful hands!
They can coax roses to bloom in the strands
Of your brown tresses; and ribbons will twine,
Under mysterious touches of thine,
Into such knots as entangle the soul
And fetter the heart under such a control
As only the strength of my love understands--
My passionate love for your beautiful hands.
As I remember the first fair touch
Of those beautiful hands that I love so much,
I seem to thrill as I then was thrilled,
Kissing the glove that I found unfilled--
When I met your gaze, and the queenly bow,
As you said to me, laughingly, 'Keep it now!' . . .
And dazed and alone in a dream I stand,
Kissing this ghost of your beautiful hand.
When first I loved, in the long ago,
And held your hand as I told you so--
Pressed and caressed it and gave it a kiss
And said 'I could die for a hand like this!'
Little I dreamed love's fullness yet
Had to ripen when eyes were wet
And prayers were vain in their wild demands
For one warm touch of your beautiful hands.
. . . . . . . . .
Beautiful Hands!--O Beautiful Hands!
Could you reach out of the alien lands
Where you are lingering, and give me, to-night,
Only a touch--were it ever so light--
My heart were soothed, and my weary brain
Would lull itself into rest again;
For there is no solace the world commands
Like the caress of your beautiful hands.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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In Summer
Oh, summer has clothed the earth
In a cloak from the loom of the sun!
And a mantle, too, of the skies' soft blue,
And a belt where the rivers run.
And now for the kiss of the wind,
And the touch of the air's soft hands,
With the rest from strife and the heat of life,
With the freedom of lakes and lands.
I envy the farmer's boy
Who sings as he follows the plow;
While the shining green of the young blades lean
To the breezes that cool his brow.
He sings to the dewy morn,
No thought of another's ear;
But the song he sings is a chant for kings
And the whole wide world to hear.
He sings of the joys of life,
Of the pleasures of work and rest,
From an o'erfull heart, without aim or art;
'T is a song of the merriest.
O ye who toil in the town,
And ye who moil in the mart,
Hear the artless song, and your faith made strong
Shall renew your joy of heart.
Oh, poor were the worth of the world
If never a song were heard,--
If the sting of grief had no relief,
And never a heart were stirred.
So, long as the streams run down,
And as long as the robins trill,
Let us taunt old Care with a merry air,
And sing in the face of ill.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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You again
If my hands had any power in them
I´d make you
Fall for me again
Just with the simple touch of my tiny fingers
I´d let you
Come to me again
If my hands had any power in them
I´d cover my eyes
Just with the simple touch of my soft palm
Over my eyelids
And open them again
So I could see you
Running to me again
If my lips had any power in them
I´d kiss this old rose you gave me
And make it blossom again
Just with the simple encounter of my lips
And the red petals
Bringing it back to life
And having you by my side
If my heart had any power in it
I´d hold u close to my chest
Real tight
And bring you back into my life.
poem by Nina gáspari
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