En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The handyman

His knowing hands
could hit nails
and lay bricks exactly right
and with his eyes,
he could draw and measure lines
and know exactly
how the plans wanted things.

Developer and businessman
and the best handyman was he
and he took an oath,
that his children
would get higher education.

Wood turned into beautiful objects
under his hands
and tables and chairs
was shaped magically.

He constructed a church without charge
and houses without number,
but a door fell
with a thundering crash
and in his body
some veins were cut
and the medical science
was still too primitive
to help and rescue
a man bleeding internally.

Still his works
exists in places
and one lesson still stays with me,
to do the best
with every thing
on which you lay your hands
and that nothing is too large
to dream about
or to accomplish.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Between Us

between us
we must accept an
odd-shaped space
some irregularly shaped
walls
blocks of imperfections
inverted tables and
chairs
broken pieces of china
a black-out of lamps
a feeling of rough hands
between us
let us hold
all these forms of realities
we start from there
so we can survive
this slow
series of deaths
cries that soon shall fade
like a beautiful
sunset....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In My Hands (Hemmorage)

Memories are just where you laid them
Drag the waters till the depths give up their dead
What did you expect to find?
Was it something you left behind?
Don't you remember anything I said, when I said:
Chorus:
Don't fall away
And leave me to myself
Don't fall away
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands
Love lies bleeding...
Oh hold me now I feel contagious
Am I only 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:
: Repeat Chorus :
And I wanted
You turned away...
You don't remember
But I do
YOU NEVER EVEN TRIED
(End Chorus)
Don't fall away

song performed by by Fuel
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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Morningside

Written by: neil diamond
Morningside
The old man died
And no one cried
They simply turned away
And when he died
He left a table made of nails and pride
And with his hands he carved these words inside
For my children
Morning light
Morning bright
I spent the night
With dreams that make you weep
Morning time
Wash away the sadness from these eyes of mine
For I recall the words the old man signed
For my children
And the legs were shaped with his hands
And the top made of oaken wood
And the children sat around this table
Touched with their laughter
Ah, and that was good
Morningside
An old man died
And no one cried
He surely died alone
And truth is sad
For not a child would claim the gift he had
The words he carved became his epitath
For my children

song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What You Got

The way your body keeps moving
Is something that makes me weak
Lets start our own little secrets
For just you and me to keep
Too late to come off shy now
You've already gone this far
So baby make your move, take charge
Show me what you got for me
Oh no
(Girl)
Is that your hands, (your hands), rubbing on me
Oh no
(Girl)
Oh no
(Girl)
Is that your hands, (your hands), ooh on me
Oh no
(Girl)
Is that your hands, (your hands), rubbing on me
If so
(Girl)
If that's your hands, (your hands), then tell me what you got for me

song performed by by Justin Timberlake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swings and Slides

And she likes to ride
on the swing and rise
higher and higher and
see beyond the hedges

and see houses and trees
and people passing
and wonders if it's always
so and as she rises higher

her hands gripping the
ropes of the swing she
feels her stomach turn
and turn and remembers

when her mother's new
boyfriend pushed her
on the swing a few years
ago how he would say

how high you want to
go Celia? and he'd push
her higher and higher
and she called out I'm

frightened slow me down
but he just stood there
laughing and waving his
hands and gawking at her

legs as she went up and
down and she tried to slow
herself down but he just
pushed her high again and

she said I'll tell on you
pushing me too high but
he just shook his head
and pushed her instead

and then once he felt he
wanted to he pulled on
her ropes and slowed her
down and put his hands

on her thighs and squeezed
and held her there for a
moment or two staring
into her eyes and said that

wasn't too bad was it?
And he grinned and she
wanted to say something
to her mother but never did

and when she got home
she said nothing and just
went to her room and stared
out at the park with its swings

and slides and the innocent
children laughing and smiling
and full of joy unaware as
she was then and knows now

how touches and suggestions
can end the innocence of
childhood in a single moment
once and for all and to no good.

poem by Terry Collett
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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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We

we build the stairs first
stair upon stair
wood and nail
and hammer
and hands
and some
determined thoughts
dreams to reach the skies
focus
and look what have be done

we have reached the door
of the room

it is here where we shall hatch
all our dreams

like eggs to our warm
hands
like chicks to our cheeks

time and stairs and hopes and dreams and nails and hammers
and hands
and eyes

be awake and always be vigilant
for dreams that do not die like night
stars
are we

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Hands Are Asking You....

it is the same thing
and will always be
the same thing, these hands
that smashed your breasts,
shall be the same hands,
that shall smash theirs
don't you think that
the earthly resources
for maximum benefit
must be shared? these same
hands
for example
don't you find them too
limited if they shall
be exclusively yours?
are you the same selfish
wife of Lot who
turned into salt
because she wants to
see those hands
of the past
misgivings?
look at your hands
how misshapen have they
become
because you never
shared them

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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The Crucifix

"Into thy hands I commend my spirit."

[This very ancient crucifix is sculptured on the exterior wall of the Abbey Church of Romsey. Its characteristic is a hand reaching down from the clouds, over the cross. It is said to be unique.]

In a quiet nook it standeth,
Which careless eyes might miss,
That image of Thy sorrow,
And fountain of our bliss.

Low within reach it standeth,
Close to the old church, door,
And by the common pathway,
Appealing evermore.

Low on the wall, that never
The dimmest eyes may miss,
And the lips of the little children
May reach the feet to kiss.

That humble, simple image,
Wrought by the hands of old;
Good hands! that so many ages
Helpless have grown and cold.

That blessed, sacred image
Born of the heart of old
That through the endless ages
Shall nevermore grow cold.

In the common stone rude-carven,
By no great artist's touch;
Yet never the wide world over
Will you find another such.

You may search the wide world over
From freezing to burning zone,
You will never find another
Quite like this only one.

Deep, deep the nails are driven
In the hands they crucified -
So deep, the nails you see not,
But only the arms stretched wide.

And over the head, so weary,
Bowing itself to die,
An open hand down-reaching
Forth from the clouded sky.

The torturers' hands have finished;
His hands are nailèd fast;
"Into thy hands my spirit -
Father, thy hands!" - at last.

. . . . . . .

Lord, ere thou call our spirits
Within thy hands to be,
Give us some such dear likeness
To leave behind of thee.

Hid in some quiet corner,
Cut in the common stone,
Poor, yet our best, we pray thee,
Our best, and our very own.

. . . . . . .

Dear Lord, our hearts grow bolder;
We dare to ask much more,
Knowing the more we ask thee,
Thou art hut pleased the more.

Give us to be that image
By the common paths like this:
Low, where the dimmest vision,
The features need not miss;
Low, where the lips of the children
May reach to cling and kiss.

Where the nails to the cross which fix us,
So deep in the wounds may hide,
That men see no more the torture,
But only the arms stretched wide.

A humble, simple image,
Cut in the common stone;
Like thee, yet like no other,
Because thy very own.

poem by Elizabeth Rundle Charles from Littell's Living Age, Volume 131, Issue 1693
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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
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This is my body

This is my body that you see
It is beautiful carved by God’s hands
Smoothened by His breaths

You will love it and want to have it
To touch and caress
To be feasted upon by the hunger
Of your eyes and thirst of your lips
To be rubbed by the coldness of your body
Seeking the warmth of my flesh

This is my body that you will first see
But there is more in me than my body
This soul that seeks your soul
This beautiful soul that seeks the beauty of your soul
The hands of my spirit reaching out to your invisible hands
They have all for years been longing to clasp
My soul longing to be with your soul
So they can be together
To be fused with each other as one
To be happy and calm and perfect
To that final place where this body
Shies away because something more beautiful
Inside it shines and glows and becomes
So beautiful in all eternity

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Old House

Midnight, that old clock keeps ticking,
The kids are all asleep and Im walking the floor.
Darlin I can see that youre dreaming,
And I dont wanna wake you up
When I close the door.
This old house of ours is built on dreams
And a businessman dont know what that means.
Theres a garden outside she works in every day
And tomorrow morning a man from the banks
Gonna come and take it all away.
Lately, Ive been thinking bout daddy,
And how he always made things work, when the chips were down,
And I know Ive got something inside me
Theres always a light there to guide me
To what cant be found.
This old house of ours is built on dreams
And a businessman dont know what that means.
Theres a swing outside the kids play on every day
And tomorrow morning a man from the banks
Gonna come and take it all away.
Take it all away, take it all away, take it all away.
Take it all away, take it all away, take it all away.
Remember how we first came here together?
Standing on an empty lot, holding hands.
Later, we came back in the moonlight
And made love right where the kitchen is,
Then we made our plans.
This old house of ours is built on dreams
And a businessman dont know what that means.
Theres a garden outside she works in every day
And tomorrow morning a man from the banks
Gonna come and take it all away.
Take it all away, take it all away, take it all away.
Take it all away, take it all away, take it all away.

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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