Miles And Miles
years and years,
miles and miles...
of hands,
grasping mine, holding on
for a time and then letting go...
being grasped by mine,
being pulled up, pulling up,
held onto in spite of...
black, brown, white, and red...
male and female, old and young,
soft, gnarled, and scarred...
hands joining together,
backs against the wall,
hands that pray without letting go,
hands that let go
when the time demands...
hands that build and take down,
that deliver and stand by...
hands powered by hearts
that beat true and human!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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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Those Hands Joining
Great grandma’s hands
Grandma’s, mama’s,
sister's hands
Aunt’s and niece’s
Hands, they join today
An epic telling the stories
About touch, about prayer,
About reaching, about the years
Of caressing and holding on
To love, persevering and
Resting the hands on the
Hands of the other hands
Those moments of silence
When the hands speak more
When the mouths accept
The loss of the power of words
When even the hearts give in
Because the hands are warmer
And so comforting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hands Across The Sea
(findon/wilkins)
And therell be hands, hands across the sea
Touching everybody, joining you and me
If we could build a new horizon
Id like to see some changes made
When nations hear the voice of reason
And all the world live unafraid
And therell be hands, hands across the sea
People joined as one, innocent and free
And well have love, love and sympathy
Touching everybody, joining you and me
If we could share that new tomorrow
You with your troubles, me with mine
Then we could face the world together
With open heart and easy mind
And therell be hands, hands across the sea
People joined as one, innocent and free
And well have love, love and sympathy
Touching everybody, joining you and me
Hands across the sea
Hands across the sea
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep Your Hands Off My Baby
We've been friends for oh so long,
I won't let you share what's mine.
When you mess with the girl i love,
It's time to draw the line.
Keep your hands off my baby.
Ain't a-gonna tell you
One more time.
So keep your hands off my baby,
For it's gonna do you in:
That girl is mine.
I don't mind if you lend my clothes,
[...] much
There is something that you can't say.
There's one thing you don't touch.
Keep your hands off my baby.
Ain't a-gonna tell you
One more time.
So keep your hands off my baby,
For it's really gonna do you in:
That girl is mine.
Keep your hands off my baby.
Ain't a-gonna tell you
One more time.
So keep your hands off my baby,
For it's really gonna do you in:
That girl is mine.
Oh keep your hands off my baby,
She's mine.
Keep your hands off my baby.
You'd better watch your step now
For it's really gonna do you in:
That girl is mine
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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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
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
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If I Could Turn Back The Hand Of Time
How did I ever let you slip away
Never knowing I'd be singing this song some day
And now I'm sinking, sinking to rise no more
Ever since you closed the door
[1] - If I could turn, turn back the hands of time
Then my darlin' you'd still be mine
If I could turn, turn back the hands of time
Then darlin' you, you'd still be mine
Funny, funny how time goes by
And blessings are missed in the wink of an eye
Why oh why oh why should one have to go on suffering
When every day I pray please come back to me
[Repeat 1]
And you had enough love for the both of us
But I, I, I did you wrong, I admit I did
But now I'm facing the rest of my life alone, whoa
[Repeat 1]
I'd never hurt you (If I could turn back)
Never do you wrong (If I could turn back)
And never leave your side (If I could turn back)
If I could turn back the hands
There'd be nothing I wouldn't do for you
(If I could turn back)
Forever honest and true to you
(If I could turn back)
If you accept me back in your heart, I love you
(If I could turn back the hands)
(If I could turn back)
That would be my will
(If I could turn back)
Darlin' I'm begging you to take me by the hands
(If I could turn back the hands)
I'm going down, yes I am
(If I could turn back)
Down on my bended knee, yeah
(If I could turn back)
And I'm gonna be right there until you return to me
(If I could turn back the hands)
(If I could turn back)
If I could just turn back that little clock on the wall
(If I could turn back)
Then I'd come to realize how much I love you
Love you love you love you
(If I could turn back the hands)
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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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 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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2.2 Brown Cow
Truth is a slippery thing
Twisted by lies, or
Looks, or an expression
That begs for the reader
To think of more, of
A different chocolate
Slip of grace....how
Now, brown cow?
Do you pine for shaded
Trees, and farmers who
Press with warm hands
In your private place?
I, too, wish for doctors
Who know that warm hands
Are better than cold speculums.
How now, brown cow?
Do they push your ovaries as
They press mine? Do they
Mention a golf game
And when was your last pap smear?
I don't look, even as I am helped up.
I hate the invasion of male
Hands in a spread female place
Slippery with careless gel and
Professional aplomb.
I take a long time to dress.
poem by Charlotte Ballard
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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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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
Helping Hands
these hands
these so sore helping hands
and these eyes
seeing through all the black and white,
a monovision more incommon than not,
these hands like talons ripping as fast they can
fish
trapped inside
the barrel
as he cocks his wrist,
that tiny gap of silent air
and in an instant these fish know they're goners,
full of holes
that what this life of mine has been like...
a great tapestry to the biggest moths
and the kindest spiders
as well as the coldest eyes
and the softest hands
however these hands,
rough and dry
witnessed it all first hand
and then the other.
poem by David Thomas
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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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