Percival Sharp
Observe the clasped hands!
Are they hands of farewell or greeting,
Hands that I helped or hands that helped me?
Would it not be well to carve a hand
With an inverted thumb, like Elagabalus?
And yonder is a broken chain,
The weakest-link idea perhaps --
But what was it?
And lambs, some lying down,
Others standing, as if listening to the shepherd --
Others bearing a cross, one foot lifted up --
Why not chisel a few shambles?
And fallen columns! Carve the pedestal, please,
Or the foundations; let us see the cause of the fall.
And compasses and mathematical instruments,
In irony of the under tenants' ignorance
Of determinants and the calculus of variations.
And anchors, for those who never sailed.
And gates ajar -- yes, so they were;
You left them open and stray goats entered your garden.
And an eye watching like one of the Arimaspi --
So did you -- with one eye.
And angels blowing trumpets -- you are heralded --
It is your horn and your angel and your family's estimate.
It is all very well, but for myself I know
I stirred certain vibrations in Spoon River
Which are my true epitaph, more lasting than stone.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Changed
My life was
Turned over
By a girl that I met
In first grade
She was my friend,
She helped me
When I needed it
But my life was
Changed
By a girl that I met
That stayed for a while
She left footprints on my heart
And my soul
She left footprints
Left steps
Left hands
Put together-
From all different cultures, not one the same
But when you look deep down
The people that owned them were as different as left hands
And right hands
So I placed my hand in hers
And I felt that the world was on my side
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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I Shall Have These Hands That Shall Write About Hands....
must have i forgotten
from where all these come?
ah, i have read about your hands
and now i shall have to mind about mine
once i had these hands
whose name is
work and struggle and
sacrifice
they lifted rocks
outlined by Sisyphus
and roll them from
atop the hill
and put them again there
in senseless
labor
when i got reason
my hands began to think
as though they have brains
under their nails
these hands begin the
questions
grapple for answers
and got
no satisfaction
they dabble in poetry
trembling and tense and
looking for
a compromise for some
fetish
must have i forgotten from where
these hands come?
someone says these hands are from
the hands of God
whose hands hand what we do not have
in hand yet
these hands did what was wrong then
and covered the face of the
penitent and the remorseful
these hands that slap a face that
triggered a gunfire
that lay upon the hardened breasts
and held breaths
these hands that write now for you
face upside down not asking for anything in return
these hands that speak for you
as you turn your head for someone else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hands.... (That Dared To Speak!)
the hands....
that cleaned the old man
lying on urine stained sheets,
that planted the bulbs
in the old woman's flower bed.
that washed the dishes
for forty years....
the hands...
that built the old barn,
that plowed the fields,
that harvested the crops....
the hands...
that stroked desire's body,
that found each secret treasure,
that closed the window.
that held the baby,
that taught the child to write,
that buttoned his suit
on the day he was married.
the hands....
that buried the body,
that brushed leaves from the grave,
that packed away pictures.
the hands....
that picked up the pen,
that turned bloodstained pages,
that dared to speak!
the hands...
now old and withered,
painfully bruised,
often clasped in prayer,
that open to take the small child's hand;
that unlock the door,
and beckon to those in need...
the hands...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Stepdaughter
Hands cold and clammy
from all of the dishwater,
Hands wrinkled and raw
for she was the stepdaughter.
No way out that she could see.
No one seemed to care.
The others all laughed at her,
their hands soft and fair.
Knees scraped and scratchy
fom cleaning the floor,
Isn't that what stepdaughters do?
Isn't that what they're for?
No way out that she did know.
This was her plight.
The others all hated her.
She'd cry in the night.
Back sore and achy,
her stepfather's body lying.
No one helped her with him
as he lay there dying.
Eyes red from crying
she held his hand. He said
'I'm leaving all I have to you.
Let my will be read.'
Mind filled with memories
of all she had done,
The others all just stared at her
as she walked into the sun.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Old Hands And Old Eyes....
old hands unbutton
the blouse of the day.
old hands make coffee,
open the dusty blinds.
old hands wash a few dishes,
make breakfast for the dogs...
old hands feed the stray cat,
make toast and wait.
old eyes caress the sunlight
as if an old friend.
old eyes see the work,
yet stop, to touch the morning.
old eyes kiss the trees,
the squirrels, and distant mountains.
old eyes ache with longing,
and amazement.
old hands and old eyes
begin the journey anew.
listening intently for the footfall,
for another candle, a hoe.
for the scent of nearness,
perhaps only remembered.
old hands and old eyes,
take the plow, the hammer,
and the nails....
old hands and old eyes,
waiting for love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Hemorrhage
Hemorrhage (In My Hands)"
memories are just where you laid them
drag the waters 'till the depths give up their dead
what did you expect to find?
was there something you left behind?
don't you remember anything i said when i said
don't fall away, and leave me to myself
don't fall away and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands
love lies bleeding
oh hold me now i feel contagious
am i the only place that you've left to go
she cries her life is like
some movie black and white
dead actors faking lines
over and over and over again she cries
don't fall away, and leave me to myself
dont fall away, and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands
love lies bleeding
and i wanted
you turned away
you don't remember, but i do
you never even tried
don't fall away and leave me to myself
don't fall away and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands
love lies bleeding
song performed by by Fuel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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To A False Friend
Our hands have met, but not our hearts;
Our hands will never meet again.
Friends, if we have ever been,
Friends we cannot now remain:
I only know I loved you once,
I only know I loved in vain;
Our hands have met, but not our hearts;
Our hands will never meet again!
Then farewell to heart and hand!
I would our hands had never met:
Even the outward form of love
Must be resign'd with some regret.
Friends, we still might seem to be,
If I my wrong could e'er forget;
Our hands have join'd but not our hearts:
I would our hands had never met!
poem by Thomas Hood
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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!
Hands! Gentle Hands!
When the Field at covert stands,
When your four-rear-old is sweating,
Foamed and fidgety and fretting
As a stray hound jumps the netting -
You can steady him and soothe him with your Hands!
Hands! Clever Hands!
When your tiring hunter lands
Over wall or ditch or double
With his noseband in the stubble,
That's the moment you're in trouble
If you have not got the saving gift of Hands!
Hands! Steady Hands!
When your reins seem useless bands,
With a mad brute going faster
And a toss-up which is master,
You may still avoid disaster
If Providence has given to you Hands!
Hands! Talking Hands!
At the fence below the Stands,
When you call on him to lead them,
That's the moment when you need them,
That's the time a horse will heed them
As you bring him up and help him with your Hands!
Hands! Horseman's Hands!
When the stooping fairy stands
At the cradle of a baby,
She has richer gifts, it may be,
But she never brought a better one than Hands!
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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Hands
One hand enough to caress, but it needs two hands to clasp
One hand enough to grasp, but it needs two hands to pull it up
One hand enough to make agreement, but it needs two hands to clap
One hand enough to create, but it needs two hands to balance
One hand enough to reject, but it needs two hands to protect
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Little Sister
Take my hand little sister
I will protect you from evil
the eyes are always watching
hands always grabbing
reaching from the ground to pull you
deep down under
below to the abyss beneath the feet
of the path you walk
so take my hand little sister
I will protect you
Call me a fallen angel
but it was for you I fell
My soul painted black with love
keeps me tainted
Although my hands are red
Please take it
I beg of you little sister
Let me protect you
They have said some things about me
Some of them true,
most of them true
yet they were all for you
I fell once and i will do so again
for you
Don't be like me little sister
Don't be like me
Let me protect you little sister
A demon to save you
from your demons
Kill me little sister
take my hand
poem by Svanhildur Njálsdóttir
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All Within My Hands
All within my hands
Squeeze it in, crush it down
All with my hands
Hold it dear, hold it suffocate
All within my hands
Love to death, smack you 'round & 'round and
All within my hands
Beware
Love is control
I'll die if I let go
Hate me now
Kill all within my hands
Hate me now
Crush all within my hands
Squeeze all within my hands
Choke all within my hands
Hate me now
Trap all within my hands
Hurry up and hate me now
Kill all within my hands
All within my hands
Take your fear, pump me up
All within my hands
Let you run, then I pull your leash
All within my hands
Under thumb, under to myself
All within my hands
Beware
Love is control
I'll die if I let go
Hate me now
Kill all within my hands
Hate me now
Crush all within my hands
Squeeze all within my hands
Choke all within my hands
Hate me now
Trap all within my hands
Hurry up and hate me now
Kill all within my hands again
I'll die if I let go
Control is love, love is control
I'll fall if I let go
Control is love, love is control
I will only let you breathe
My air that you receive
Then we'll see if I let you love me
Kill kill kill kill kill
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unconditionally Open
these hands,
that took yours
and walked away from all
we knew.
these hands,
that laid brick,
cut wood,
plowed gardens,
picked up trash
built fences for the dogs,
held the children
when they were small,
held your hands
at the hospital
stroked your body,
touching forbidden places
with gentleness and
passion
wrote the poetry
hidden in your eyes
these hands,
now old and calloused,
sometimes tremble,
sometimes hard as stone
these hands are open,
without fear or trepidation,
unconditionally open
waiting for yours.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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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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
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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