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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Related quotes
Hand That Helps
Hand in hand you clap
Encourage others and solder you tap
Hand alone can be used for slap
In backward direction you step
Hand that build nation
Hand that develops relation
Hand that pulls the cart
And finally hands make you smart
Hand covers your eyes
Yet people look at and try
Hands that comes to rescue
Allow few people to view
Surge ahead with waving hand
Make all to follow and make friends
See to it that you are constant with trend
See the joy in life at the end
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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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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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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Give me space, give me time
It is the hands of time that
Heals.let its hands caress
My weary thoughts. So much
Have been lost in my fingers
Slipping away. I walk down
The road now, to freedom.
Hand in hand with the tree
And twigs. Feeling the
Caresses of the leaves
On the road to my freedom.
Give me space. Let my wholeness
Occupy. I need to expand
My choking life. Give me time.
Give me the healing hands
Of time. Let me sleep on its
Palms. I am throwing my
Hands in the air. I want to fly
Now. Sensational. I must.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Manus Manum Lavat
it is always with One Hand
that Washes the Other
Friends or Lovers
Husbands and Wives
Two hands dipped On Water
Cooling and Resting
Two Hands Sounding to A Clap
From a Basin of Water
One Hand on Top of the Other
Comforting and Sharing and
Keeping the Silence with the Water
Between them The Time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Other Hand...
the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Outstretched
My hands
Outstretched
I look at you
Your hands
Outstretched
You look at me
Stretching out
Our hands…
We both
Look at
Each other
Knowing
That we can
Never walk
Hand-in-hand
With each other
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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The Touch Of Your Hand
I was fascinated by your hands yesterday
touching all those you met on your way.
Holding the hand of a child so tenderly.
Working hard to care for friends and family.
Those hands were the hands of the Lord.
They spoke more powerfully than any word.
And I saw sweet works of Jesus taking place
as you reached out to touch others by His grace.
But then to my pleasure and my great joy
you reached out taking the hand of your Roy.
Lifting my soul to such heavenly heights
and filling my heart with loving delights.
It was such a privilege to hold and be near
touching the hand of the one I love so dear.
I felt I was being held by the hand of the Lord
for such blessings can only come from God.
My dear — Grow old with me, my lovely wife.
We'll walk forward like this the rest of our life.
Hand in hand, step by step and day by day.
Together with the Lord, let's walk His way.
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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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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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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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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Hands
Hands are to grab and to make too.
Hands are to hold and to lend too.
Hands are to ward and to hug too.
Have mind to lend power to the hand.
11.10.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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
Hand I Offer
the hand i offer,
the hand of peace.
the caring hand,
the giving hand,
the get dirty hand,
the pull you up hand,
the work with you hand,
walk beside you hand,
the companion hand,
the communion hand....
the hand i offer,
....without conditions!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Stomp Your Hands, Clap Your Feet
Whoa!
Woo-woo yeah
Turn it up until it bangs your head
Tear it down now mother don't play dead
People stand the noise
All the little toys
Put some more coke on the fire
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
Mixed up kids lookin' for that night
They're getting higher everything in sight, well alright
The music's pretty loud
Someone in the crowd
Think they're gonna cause us a riot
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat, oh
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
Rock on, rock on, rock on
Yow!
How how how how how
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
(Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
(Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
(Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Whoa-oh-oh-oh ho ho ho
Stomp your hands
Clap those feet, yeah
Stomp your hands
To the beat
C'mon boys
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Whoa-whoa, all night, yeah, yeah, yeah
Stomp your hands
(Oh whoa oh oh)
Clap your feet
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
All night long
Stomp your hands
(Everybody)
Clap your feet
(Everybody stomp your hands to the beat in the heat yeah yeah yeah yeah woo!)
Stomp your hands
(Oh!)
Clap your feet
(Oh whoa whoa whoa whoa, rock all night, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Oh yeah
Stomp your hands
(Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Clap your feet
(My my my, my my my my my my, my, my, m
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tough Hands, Tender Heart
My Granddad's hands were somewhat huge;
You might say that they had been well used;
Working in coal mines all his life was tough;
So his hands had become callused and rough;
The first time you notice him you would stare;
You'd get the impression of him being a bear;
Strong grip; that of a sound able-bodied mans;
Time progressing forward wrinkled his hands;
Always vigorously working with enough to do;
If needed he would repeatedly find time for you;
He was a man paying attention with a lot of care;
When he rested his hands were folded in prayer;
If he called you without getting an answer quick;
His clearing his throat would always did the trick;
Walking he had my hand in one the other a tea cup;
My juvenile hand in his was gently swallowed up;
Hands tough, yet comfortable for the most part;
One thing for sure he had a really tender heart;
His warm and cozy hands left me feeling at peace;
Walking with him all my hurt would soon release;
poem by Joseph Blitch
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Empty
try looking at my hands
they are empty now
for i have released
what fullness was there
what fist
what clenched hands i had
once they were so
beautiful
in bravery
but
then
there is always a threshold
of courage
suddenly you find hands opening
to the sun
hands without a grip
hands that wave goodbye
to all your friends
hands that
grasp nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wait for a right hand
Pepper finds its value at the hand of Arabs.
Butter gets its worth at the hand of Eskimos.
These go in neglect if landed in wrong hands.
Better be alone if unable to find the right hand.
Better to abandon than
Land in wrong hand
22.09.2000, Vijayavada
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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