Work Dignity
Hands!
I see many hands
Watching fingers
Graciously playing
piano flute or harps
Writing molding painting
sounds and colors
to brighten and lighten
every heart
Those arts are
to become a special present
for those similar fingers
similar hands of our parents
grandparents
or grandgrands..
hands taking so much pride
in building, feeding, cleaning,
carrying in any way they could
for those inspired ones..
for our earth..
Those working hands
the finest souls
Could never scream out their
happiness or pain
because the lack of time
to even catch a breathe
But they too
expressed themselves
and done their best, oh yes
through work
own love and kindness
never stoped to spread.
Truth:
The Hard Workers!
Are Masters of the World!
Let's recognise
and value them
at Real price.
poem by Elena Sandu

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Related quotes
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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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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A Stalemate
I do not give thanks to the hands that feed me
I work for those
Hands anyway
Writing his letters
His own contents
Not to my delight
I love somebody else, her hands are soft
Her thoughts so graceful
Touching me
Penetrating the deepest recesses of my brain
My soul jumps with joy
To the sight of her,
She eats me, I am half-consumed yet I
Sing of her
Kiss her all day
Yet what does she give me?
This death unto myself,
The hands that feed me caress me to no end
Helping me live, I understand this kindness perfectly
How I wish to love the feeding hands
How I wish to reeducate myself & learn to live on these hands
I am hardheaded, as always thinking about her all day all night long.
The heart has its own foolish reasons, while the feeding hands
Are patient, and silent, understanding my true longings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Potential New Boyfriend
Got my eye on a boy
Hes eyeing me back
Its looking real good
This could be it
And I know that all of you girls
Would love to steal him away
He bought me a drink
I thanked him real sweet
Its always so nice when you first meet
And I know that all of you women would love to steal him away
So Im warning you
Chorus:
Better keep your hands off my
Better keep your hands off my
Better keep your hands off my potential new boyfriend
Building up an appetite
You can look but you cant buy
Better keep your hands off my potential new boyfriend
Pretty as a picture
Comin on so strong
Hes twisting my ignition key
Turn my motor on
But anyone can see, all his attentions on me
Give us some privacy
2nd chorus:
Better keep your hands off my
Better keep your hands off my
Better keep your hands off my potential new boyfriend
Better keep your hands off my
Its a welcome turn to try
Better keep your hands off my potential new boyfriend
Leave us alone tonight
Then if it dont work out right
Hes all yours
Until then
3rd chorus:
Better keep your hands off my
Better keep your hands off my
Better keep your hands off my potential new boyfriend
They keep crowdin in on me
He smiles rather unsuspiciously
Better keep your hands off my potential new boyfriend
Fade:
Repeat 1st chorus
song performed by by Dolly Parton

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Please Be True To Our Mutual Lies
please be true
to these mutual lies
as we lie
and kiss
and roll
and make such a quick love
do not make any moans
or calls
do not not kiss and tell
do not
be too possessive of my
body
my soul
my mind
these hands are strong
and so warm
you know, when these hands hold you tight
you know
these are not just yours
you know
these hands love you too like how these hands love
the rest of you, my all true loves
and them
they may not believe us
true to our lies
protective of ten fingers loving many lovely women
all worthy of my strong loving hands
my hands are made of ten fingers
there is no way that
these hands can be monogamous
you love me so true
and you would not have the folly to tell me that i have not loved
and loved you well enough
we must both be polygamous, and we must tell the world
we are true and we exist.
we lie because the truth is they are nor prepared for what they are too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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When Your Hand Of Friendship Is Brushed Aside
say thank you
try extending your hand to another hand
to the other thousand hands in this world who need other hands
those with love in their hearts those with minds still believing in friendship
tell yourself she does not deserve your offer
assure yourself she is another ghost
another virtuality
another waste
a junk
without a name without a soul without a face
extend your hand to another hand with real fingers on them
and try seeing yourself in the mirror
you still have that reflection and that ghost does not have any
be glad
you are real and she isn't
does she think that you have pain and that you need her friendship badly
such that you want to bow before her like she is the goddess of beauty
and wisdom and truth?
let her be. She is not a part of you.
why bother?
be yourself and keep that hands of friendship warm
for another one who needs it too
let the gods reign in the heavens. They live in their clouds
stay on earth and be the river for the fishes to swim
for the strangers to drink with the cup of their hands for them to quench
their thirsts
let your hands of friendshipsbe the seeds of springs
the flowers of summers
that bloom forever
let your scent spread for those who still need them
and let these gods remain as gods
because they shall always be worshipped as loveless strangers of this earth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Hands Love
She and he
Sitting on the
Train...
Booth hands
Are catching
The fingers
Are playing
Pulling and bowling
Pushing with catch
With playing...
Body's are
Not for tuch...
No for kisses...
But 's
The hands are
Playing beautyfully
With the love...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar

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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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Stick Up
Let's go
I've been loving you for years
I know that I was never clear
But I have no fear today
Cause I'm gonna say
What I gotta say
I don't wanna play no more
I'm busting through the door
I'm gonna take your heart for sure
Put your hands up in the air
It's a stick up
I'm go'n take your heart from here
Now let's fix up
Put your hands in the air, in the air, in the air
I'm gonna play my cards from here
and take this gamble
sure, my words are gonna fumble
but this being hard and humble
Ain't got me nowhere
Sure I'm scared but my life's a dare
And baby you just got so much flare
We'd be the perfect pair
I'm gonna share my mind with you
You've been blind and my life's blue
I'm taking you, I'm taking you
Put your hands up in the air
It's a stick up
I'm go'n take your heart from here
Now let's fix up
Put your hands in the air, in the air, in the air
Put your hands up in the air
It's a stick up
I'm gone take your heart from here
Now let's fix up
Put your hands in the air, in the air, in the air
In the air, in the air, in the air
When I first met you, I wanted to wet you
Not a gun, but a different content sexual
You try to run I still get you
Steel metal, not needed
A whole nother meaning
Don't want your gold, want your soul
Control ya heartbeating
Cause when I start squeezing that muscle
That's the trigger then I got you nigga
In your drop with spinners
Got your bodyguards with you
Diamond dog tag chain swinging
I have them thangs ringing
This is a robbery, and no one's getting free
Til that man, he comes with me
This is a robbery, and no one's getting free
Til that man he comes with me
Put your hands up in the air
It's a stick up
I'm go'n take your heart from here
Now let's fix up
Put your hands in the air, in the air, in the air
In the air, in the air, in the air
Put your hands up in the air
It's a stick up
I'm a take your heart from here
Now let's fix up
Put your hands in the air
Put your hands in the air
Put your hands....
song performed by by Kelis

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Lifetime In Your Hands
Baby.
On the floor they lay
Not a wrinkle or crease to save
Little hands do wave
Wanting to play
Young child.
In dirt and muck
Hands still mild and soft
More by youth than luck
Plays the young child hands aloft
Teenager.
Learning in school
For peers appear cool
In paint and ink
Their hands do stink
Young adult.
Now working hard
Sweat and toil
midday sun, mad
Hands now a trowel
Middle age.
Hands hard and worn
Some cut, sworn
Holds a child
Strong and mild
50 - 60
Wrinkles appear
Fingers and thumbs
On the rear
Liver spots like speckled crumbs
Old age (ish)
Wrinkled and lined
Courted and dined
Etched in their story of life
Sprinkled with some strife
End of time.
Transparent and Boney
Face hard set, maybe lonely
Hands wave a sigh
Soon to say goodbye
RG
poem by Robert Green

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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
Too Much Time On My Hands
Written by tommy shaw
Lead vocals by tommy shaw
Sitting on this barstool talking like a damn fool
Got the twelve oclock news blues
And Ive given up hope on the afternoon soaps
And a bottle of cold brew
Is it any wonder Im not crazy? is it any wonder Im sane at all
Well Im so tired of losing- I got nothing to do and all day to do it
I go out cruisin but Ive no place to go and all night to get there
Is it any wonder Im not a criminal?
Is it any wonder Im not in jail?
Is it any wonder Ive got
Too much time on my hands, its ticking away with my sanity
Ive got too much time on my hands, its hard to believe such a calamity
Ive got too much time on my hands and its ticking away from me
Too much time on my hands, too much time on my hands
Too much time on my hands
Well, Im a jet fuel genius - I can solve the worlds problems
Without even trying
I have dozens of friends and the fun never ends
That is, as long as Im buying
Is it any wonder Im not the president
(hes not the president)
Is it any wonder Im null and void?
Is it any wonder Ive got
Too much time on my hands, its ticking away at my sanity
Ive got too much time on my hands, its hard to believe such a calamity
Ive got too much time on my hands and its ticking away from me
Too much time on my hands, too much time on my hands
Too much time on my hands
song performed by by Styx

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Art of Hand
The introduction, the greeting
The agreement, the congratulation
The peace maker, the test of power
All sealed in hands shaking
The personality, the state of mind
The building character, the contemplation
The history vow, the future plan
All shown in hands writing
Whether tight, or just slight hold
Whether warm, whether cold
Whether assuring, whether binding
All proofed in hands joining
The cheer, the appreciation
The approval, the signal
The encouragement, the regret
All raise in hands clapping
The sharing, the choice
The help, the guide
The small baby, the big brother
All found in hands connecting
To caress, to hurt
To give, to steal
To create, to destroy
All done in hands working
The skill, the fondness
The investigation, the invention
The attitude, the intention
All answered in hands playing
The praying, the waiting
The anger, the defense
The style, the control
All closed in hands crossing
Whether delicate, whether clumsy
The green, the fire
Rough in struggle, smooth in shadow
All felt in hands touching
poem by Maria Sudibyo

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Painting The Walls
painting the walls,
rolling over handprints,
cobwebs, and smoke stains....
over splashes of color,
over peels of time.
painting over the sounds
of voices whispering, laughing....
painting over tears hidden
from the world, from each other.
painting over running, and working,
working all day and half the night.
painting over children, and dreams,
folded like old clothes, and put away.
painting over notes from God,
that were often barely noticed...
painting over the nail that held
up the clock, hands moving slowly,
turning the seasons of living....
painting over the final words,
the last breath held in the hands,
of lives written in the grain....
the testimony of each feeling....
painting the walls,
and brushing the corners,
as if we never lived!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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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

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The Magic In My Hands
There is magic in my hands
A glittering pen more magical than wand
It weaves myriad, fantastic stories
Acclaimed, applauded, crowned with lasting glory.
There is magic in my hands
A golden pen more precious than castle grand
It builds hope in the sky where hearts ascended
Strong, unwavering, solidly founded.
There is magic in my hands
A pen that casts warmth better than the sun
It instills love in the core of man
Always jolly and merry, scarcely ever wan.
There is magic in my hands
A pen that races faster than cars of finest brand
It crosses all roads of pain and happiness
Filled up with words of unblemished loveliness.
There is magic in my hands
A pen that draws a world fairer than wonderland
It reveals the earth’s face none dares unfold
A magic that brings joy to young and old.
poem by Geraldine Fernandez

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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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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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How Did You Experience The Hands Of Time?
the hands of time
could be the hands of my lover
there is no rush
nothing is as quick as happiness
that savors itself
slowly in the taste buds of
imbibing
love and affection
caress and not duress
on the other hand
the hands of time can be the hands of the master
to a slave
whipping and humiliating
forcefully putting furrows in our foreheads
breaking bones and overusing cartilages
till they break
as they stretch beyond the limits
of their elasticity
it all depends on you
you are the master of your own universe
make time your ally
your best friend
let it go gently over your heart
let it love you
and time with you
is the air that you breathe
savored by your nostrils
happiness and life to the
roots of your lungs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Beach Chairs
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the setting sun
holding hands and reminiscing
how it all begun
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the ships out on the sea
holding hands and smiling
together we're meant to be
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching people walking past
holding hands and knowing
that our love will always last
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the waves along the shore
holding hands we realize
our love is stronger than before
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the changing tide
holding hands with happiness
to be by each others side
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the sunrise
holding hands with tears of joy
there are no more good-byes
poem by Joyce Ebrecht

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