En.Citatepedia^®.ro

A Race

Thinking on the childish longings,
Makes me laugh and takes again,
To the golden age when I played,
With the boys of the same size and age,
All we often ran and raced,
To see the end of the ball of the Earth,
Or touch the bending horizon,
Too blue, too near, too clear,
And to attain crimson hue of twilight,
Ah! But returned,
Out of breath with empty hands.

When we played in the meadows green,
The wings of the Moon-soon winds,
Did bring on the plains of the Punjab,
Flocks of clouds thick and dark,
Drifted by shepherds with sticks unseen,
That seemed landing upon the pastures,
We ran and raced under or along,
To possess the lowering object in hands,
Ah! But returned,
Out of breath with empty hands.

Oh! My friends I have been convinced,
To the thought that the floating world,
Is made of vapour or condensed clouds,
For in the days of youth, grown up age,
I ran the race with the faster pace,
After the world but could not catch,
And brought me now to the brim of grave,
Ah! But out of breath with empty hands.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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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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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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My Hands

my hands have ten rivers
there are furrows of sorrows in the destiny of my palms
no mountain peaks to view the world
holistically,

my hands have ten crystal clear ponds
my hands mirror my face
my hands surrender
my hands open

they are all yours too and you are so cruel
you are telling me like you detest me in the residence of your full moon

you do not need rivers, you had enough of my surrender, you are ashamed
of open hands, you touch me and then you make a plea

'please close your hands and with your ten rivers, please sail away from me! '

i know what a full moon is. I too had enough of its light and silence.
i have the nerves of the stars, and i know what sailing away means.

let me thank you for your dark skies, your clouds are too heavy for me.
i am raining tears, too salty for my ten rivers.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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A Jar's Story

from the start
the hands that shaped you
designed you to be empty
you were named
Jar,

someone so
beautiful and rich
takes you
away from your
maker

those hands
cannot hold you for long
because they are
empty and hungry
hands

and then she fills
you with perfume
and all those who attend
the parties of the
world
dip their fingers
in your scent

they crowd around you
and you are loved
not for what you are
but what you
can give

scents, scents,
all scents

you begin to miss
your original form
the beauty that you
possess

when you were
once empty

you miss the whisper
of space inside
your belly

the hush of the wind
that rests in
your heart

you forget the name
that was given to you

Jar is your name
but are not one of them
anymore

you are the scent
of their necks
hanging on their
jaws and navels

your contents
fill now their fantasies

your hollowness
they now discard

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One Candle Lighting My Whole World

You're the wings of my angel,
You're the breath I do not have,
Cause you took it from me,
You're the light to my dark empty hall,
You're the tears I could not ball,
You brought me to my feet,
When I could only crawl.

You laid your head against my chest,
You and me laid there at a rest,
I couldn't be any less than blest.

I want to hold you in my arms,
Running my hands up and down your body,
Feeling your warm breath against my skin,
The feeling of love that somehow got in,
That warm fuzzy feeling flowing through my veins,
No more worries, no more pains,

Goodbye my baby, 'will I ever see you again',
'Maybe',
Tomorrow will be another day,
But I promise, my feeling for you will never go
Away.

poem by Jacob Gifford
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Lay Your Hands On Me

It's a feeling
Slowly rising
Sending stars spinning around me
Something happens
When I'm with you
Moving gravity by degrees
And I know some things are meant to be
And I know we are
When I hear you say
I love you
Lay your hands on me
Tell me how you feel
Still takes my breath away
We lie here honestly
Whisper once again
As you lay your hands on me
There's desire
When you touch me
Slowly rushing me to extremes
And I know some things are meant to be
And I know we are
When I hear you say
I love you
Lay your hands on me
Tell me how you feel
Still takes my breath away
We lie here honestly
Whisper once again
As you lay your hands on me
Together we were meant to be
And together we are
There's a passion that's
surrounding me
When I hear you say
I love you
Lay your hands on me
Tell me how you feel
Still takes my breath away
We lie here honestly
Whisper once again
As you lay your hands on me
Lay your hands on me

song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Courtroom Is Empty

the courtroom is empty,
the gavel untouched.
no hands on the book,
no jury of twelve.
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)

small children killed, tossed in the trash,
women abused, old people hungry, alone.
young girls sold into slavery
young boys sold into war
homeless ghosts walk the halls,
without hope in man or God.

and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)

an American tragedy,
or just human tragedy.
justice bought and sold,
afforded by just the few.
the wheels of Wall Street turn,
politicians barter with lives.
drinking the blood of the babies
that will never be born!

the takers keep taking,
and the honest man falls
to die nameless in the ditch,
covered by ashes and dust.

and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air.
(the hands of the clock
have stopped!)

the courtroom is empty

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Empty Hands!

empty hands
is the essence.
dreams, way of life.
life encompasses death!
empty hands, the way we live
empty hands, the way we die!

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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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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Black Mouse Makes The World

Black mouse makes
the world

without frames

reaching through
shows empty hands
to each and the sky

confusing sky for
hands clinched in
tight yellow too much

feeling nothing green
is about to happen
or teach

clouds

hands

what do either
care drifting
beyond the

moon

the fiddler plays on

a tune about rain/leaves
in patterns upon

an apron
of rain

rabbit dances with-
out caution knowing
what holes to avoid

cuts loose
awash in blue

holes being of a
royal hue

a silver net
trap set inches
from soft pink
clueless paws pattering

musical notes of
lavender wash
kick up from
blind delight -
just dust clouds
before a fall

the bearded stranger

(red hangs the sweep
of his chin)

hangs back

in cobalt shadow
does not notice

so busy looking
for giants

Black Mouse

Black Mouse laughs

writes with its tail

something

just something

poem by Warren Falcon
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Breath! Breath out!

A moment of silence.
Breath out!
There is nothing to say aloud.
Reflection of passion in the eyes.
Breath!
There is no time to realize.
They quickly open the door lock.
Breath out!
They look at the clock.
Endless kiss in the hall.
Breath!
Don’t fall!
The sound of falling ring.
Breath out!
Ding, ding!
The smell of electricity on the skin.
Breath!
Who will win?
A certain expression on his face.
Breath out!
It’s not a race.
Fulfilling with ecstasy two glasses.
Breath!
They are full of fantasies.
Not clear whispers of wet lips.
Breath out!
You are not VIPs.
The hasty movements of two lightings.
Breath!
They are fighting.
One is tender, another one is rude.
Breath out!
One is not so cute.
Rocking hands of the clock.
Breath!
Don’t get a shock!
As… one is released,
another one is not.
Take a deep breath!
As… here is a dot.

Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Ricochet

All of that thick time without you
Has made me so thick and drunk
And its okay to laugh about it
I said, its okay to laugh about it
Running twice as fast to stay in the same place
Dont catch my breath to the end of teh day
And Id rather be shot in the face
Then hear what youre going to say
One day the wind will come up
And youll come up empty again
-and wholl be laughing then? -
Youll come up empty again
No reasons-no explainations-so play the violins
Its always funny until somone gets hurt...
And then its just hilarious!
You beat me every time you blink
If only I did not have to think
Think about you crackin a smile
Think about you all the while
On the ricochet - its going to hit you
Its always funny until someone gets hurt
You can laugh at me - when it misses you

song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Kite Song

I flew a kite, I held on tight to its string.
Each time I go anywhere, I held on tight.
In the middle of the night I woke up in fright,
Thinking maybe in my dream I let go of my kite.
When I was in a restaurant, talking to my friends,
Watching their mouths move faster and faster.
I thought of the kite that was flying in the sky
And made sure that my hand was holding the string.
That was a long time ago,
Many skies went by since then.
Now my hands stopped holding anything
And Ive learnt to take a walk instead.
Then one day in the evening light,
I saw something strange shining bright.
The sky was dark, with swarms of larks,
And in the midst of it all, yes, it was my kite.
How did the kite get there, Ill never know,
Floating away among the clouds to where nobody knows.
I held my gun with both my hands,
Slowly aiming at the shining dot.
The shot went off, the dot blew off,
Since then Ive never seen the kite again.

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two, three steps ahead before me

wonder i receive the dream that leads me to see the three steps
ahead before my first step landed in the sand, gaze i believe is
a footprint, slowly drifted to each feet passing wave along the
shore

the future never stop, moving forward where the direction of the
sun goes by, and the air that touches every high and low tide, the
heavens breathe moisturizing face of the clouds beneath the
cooling face of the sun

oh! let my foot gallops every feet i step, the endless distance take
me there, and my hands pointed me to reach; a place where my
feet has to take it rest, beautiful land that almost all have gone, so
friendly that every one want have to save, the hands that hold
every other hands to step, each footprint i take and lead me to a
little mark in the dunning sand, gently hold to my foot to the
dream land i want to step

open wide my inner pulse i remembered, the two feet i have, make
it three, sight comes so quickly, like lightning my eye have seen,
the two steps i touch, somebody carried me, and extra footprints
watches me, even angels touches my feet

the future is friendly; lovely to see, though it’s empty, but then full
of memory and easy, just leave it to God....the footprints you'll
see count it three.... two from God and one from the angel....and
sure you'll be carried away

be the first step in going to the Father's home; the very breath
you take, will takes you there and the paradise of today will soon
bring us to the future of no return

poem by Antonio Liao
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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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446

You and I

I see a glass
Half empty
And I see your hands
Filling an emptiness
That I have
Invented.

I am empty now
And then
You fill me
Up to the brim

I am overflowing
And here you
Are
In the full blast
Of your lust
That you
Invented
Licking me
From the
Bottom
Beyond the brim.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You and I together

I see a glass
Half empty
And I see your hands
Filling an emptiness
That I have
Invented.

I am empty now
And then
You fill me
Up to the brim

I am overflowing
And here you
Are
In the full blast
Of your lust
That you
Invented
Licking me
From the
Bottom
Beyond the brim.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life's Seasons

When all the world was Mayday,
And all the skies were blue,
Young innocence made playday
Among the flowers and dew;
Then all of life was Mayday,
And clouds were none or few.

II

When all the world was Summer,
And morn shone overhead,
Love was the sweet newcomer
Who led youth forth to wed;
Then all of life was Summer,
And clouds were golden red.

III

When earth was all October,
And days were gray with mist,
On woodways, sad and sober,
Grave memory kept her tryst;
Then life was all October,
And clouds were twilight-kissed.

IV

Now all the world's December,
And night is all alarm,
Above the last dim ember
Grief bends to keep him warm;
Now all of life's December,
And clouds are driven storm.

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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