My Hands Must Be Magical
my hands must be magical
to make your body sing
my fingers must be probing
to find every moment of loving
my eyes must be the fountain
of understanding
my heart must have that enduring
patience
of the gutter to the rain
guiding pleasure not to drain
you need me as i need you
whatever be the price!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
A Missing Chapter
Your Deceiving eyes led me wrong
and now I am, were I should not belong
our eyes are passages to our souls they say
every once a while we let ourselves stray
Loving you is fire; appealing to my eyes
and healing to my desires.
It brings pleasure to my heart but to my fingers pain
and to my memory it is smoke, ashes and stains.
Loving you is magic; which slowly disappears.
It is bewilderness in beauty and sweetness in my tears.
It brings pleasure to my heart, which I haven’t felt in years.
but the unresolved equations, remain as souvenirs
loving you is rain; bringing cure to my thirst.
But to my strong structure, it brings shivers and a curse.
Loving is you like flying over the sky's highest cloud,
as peaceful as it seems its dangerous empty and load.
Loving you is a picture I hung now onto my wall
it tells my favorite story which by detail I recall.
Loving you is a secret I tightly withhold.
And in spite of my resistance it still longs to be told.
poem by Ayesha Sartawi
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THE HAND (A Mechanical Genius)
To God I am thankful for many gifts;
But none more than a creative mind,
And the hands which are the finest tool,
With abilities to create that I easily can find.
As a child I first learned to cherish
My God-given opposable thumb,
Knowing how versatile a device
It is for whacking a fortuitous homerun.
And stubby fingers were early to meet,
And with artistic freedom employ,
All the many vividly colored crayons
To make graphic forms and scenes to enjoy.
And off running into the world of nature,
My hands kept quite busy in work and play.
Without them I found that I couldn't climb
Nor protect myself in the occasional fray.
My hands loved to tighten and repair my bike,
Seeming to be a mechanic of special training,
Taught by a higher intelligence unknown
For handling every task without complaining.
With maturity the hand becomes more adept,
A magical marvel for all creation to behold.
And in God's world of many forms to grasp,
It becomes an unique gift worth more than gold.
Then you find there's nothing your hands can't do,
‘Cause God has made them in His special way,
With the same loving care you make toys for a child,
Who might find nothing any better for hours of play.
We need to show God that we feel very blessed,
That He was the architect of this precious treasure;
So that we may join with Him in majestic fashion,
Giving the world with fervent impact endless pleasure.
poem by Albert Price
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Massaging The Queen
My hands anticipate the final moment..
Where from your shoulders
down through upper-arm's
pass your forearms
and onto meeting your hands...
Their length my hands will travel..
In a gentle grip caressing every muscle
while pulling every joint..
Bridging-over to your back
continuing from the top of your bottom
through your exquisite waist with flat palm's
and tender loving fingers..
Slowly moving over lungs searching cautiously
seeking your pleasure..
With eyes close I will become one with your body
and you one in blissful Zen..
My hands will meet your shoulders once again
there they will travel towards each other
until meeting your neck
and rise scrapingly through your hair
until meeting your crown..
I will whisper my adoring passion to your ear
assuring my devotion to your kingdom..
poem by Gengis Capote
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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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The ecstasy
(after John Donne)
From the start although it had been
great ecstasy and our loving
had been better than anything and we were keen,
we had a deep understanding
and although it were at times gentle and powerfully severe,
the fun and joy and moment’s bliss was unperplex
while nothing did with the loving interfere,
we both knew that it had been much greater than just sex
while our hands, fingers and bodies did intertwine
and for long moments
in all things, in intimacy you were mine;
there were some elements
of a different thing
of a principle, of love a greater understanding.
[Reference: “The ecstasy” by John Donne.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Residue
Rain in the gutter,
muttering as it gushes down
through the drain cover.
Water in volume, rushing along,
so strong and powerful,
buffeting the kerb stones and mortar
at the pavements edge,
wedging the silt up into a pile,
and all the while,
building it higher and higher.
When the streams subside,
the residue is left to be dried,
by the sun,
and the wind whisks it up in swirls,
and it is deposited further down the street,
to meet up with other surplus dust.
A never ending circle of events,
happening in this gutter,
even a strutter such as a pigeon
taking his morning bath,
knows the culvert well.
Wearing his feathered mackintosh,
preening his plumage, cleaning his quills,
he displays no frills.
Rain in the gutter,
is muttering, and the pigeon is fluttering,
perched on the drain cover.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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You Can Make Me Dance, Sing Or Anything
(rod stewart, ron wood, kenny jones, tetsu yamauchi, ian mclagan)
Hey baby, I wanna say somethin to ya, listen
Sometimes when I get out of my head
And I say all the wrong things
Sometimes I know I stay out late at night
And I get back fighting, hey babe
Somehow all my plans
Keep slippin through my hands
And I end up crying, but listen
I can be a millionaire
Honey when youre standing there
Youre so exciting
You can make me dance, you can make me sing,
You can make me do just any old thing, and I love it
Sometimes I wanna get up so early
And get away from here girl
Summers gone, and before long
North winds blow, that bring the snow
Ill keep us warm girl
My schemes it seems, are merely dreams
Fading with each morning, hey babe
But this old heart of mine
Is far too proud not to keep on tryin
You can make me dance, you can make me sing,
You can make me do just any old thing, yeah baby
Ah yeah
So little bird dont fly away
Want you here every day
Dont ever leave me
Id rather lose both my eyes
Than never see your smiling face again girl
You can make me dance, you can make me sing,
You can make me do just any old thing
You can make me dance, you can make me sing,
You can make me do just any old thing
Hey babe
Keep on loving me babe, yeah
Keep on loving me babe
Just keep on loving me babe
Just keep on loving me babe
Just keep on loving, ooh babe
Just keep on loving me darling
Just keep on loving me darling
Just keep on loving me darling, darling, darling, darling
Ha ha
Woww, alright
Hey baby
Oh darling
Keep on loving me darling
Just keep on loving me darling
Just keep on loving me darling
Just keep on loving me darling
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Paradox Between Us
I'm back to my comfort zone
it is an island
inside you where i live
when you look at it
carefully
like a telescope to the star
farthest from you
i am actually outside
everyone
your hands can touch me
but it is only my pair of hands
there is more to my fingers
that drip like rain from a leaking roof
which falls on the floor
and goes down the drain
until it is lost and no one can find it
not even myself who proclaims that
i know much better than anyone else
i am not true and that it is a fact.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Busy...
you body clock
does not tell time,
busy body, slimy fingers,
trembling hands,
wrecking nerves
fast tracking heart,
exploding ideas
killing boredom
it's been this way
since
nothing is written
the spirit is away
the body is left here
comatose
dreams like butterflies
hovering on some red flowers
heartless sounds of
discontent
fingers dissociated from hands
the eyes are closing
like closed computers
at 8 o'clock in the morning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fantasy
One day you say you love me
The next you tell me you dont
One day you say you will
And the next you tell me you wont
Hey little baby
There aint much point in hanging around (yea).
One day you make me feel like your love is in my hands
One day you say youll stay
The next youre changing your plans
Hey little baby
Aint much point in hanging around (yea).
Cause if you aint got time for me Ill find another fantasy.
It is kind of funny that you think that
I am the boy to make you cry
I can make you happy
If only for a while
Little baby I can give you all the loving that your heart desires
If you aint got time for me Ill find another fantasy.
It could be the price of love
Could the price of hate
What am I guilty of
Why do you make me wait
So long I dont know your intentions.
Look to the skys above
I am in the hands of fate
Push till it gets to shove
I have got to know for heavens sake
Is this love or invention
Baby cant you see Ill find another fantasy.
You hang around with people who are sure to make you cry
I can make you happy if only for a while
Little baby oh, oh little baby
I can give you all the lovin that your heart desires
If you aint got time for me Ill find another fantasy.
You take someones heart
And you kick it around
Keep on picking it up
So you can watch it come down
I dont know what I am suppose to do
Why I wait for you to make up your mind
Would you please be so kind
When you know what to do Ill be in the next room
But if you make it to late I may be in the next day
Hmm...
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Digressive Detectors
I've been told on a few occasions,
That I don't spend time fine tuning my poems...
To enhance any 'suspected' relevant,
Thought process.
Digressive detectors,
Are all over the place these days.
And I share with those critics...
They have no idea of the amount of time I spend,
Seeking new avenues to avoid making sense at all.
Or ease into a way to expose my humility.
Please!
I have achievements to accomplish!
To add additional clarity...
For those probing.
I look at it this way...
Anything anyone should find of mine,
To critique with criticisms?
Keep this in mind...
That which you claim to find that is mine,
You have made an illegitimate claim!
Nothing of mine is yours to find,
Had I not put it there.
Hoping you'd be with a microscope.
So...
Probe on!
And if you find anything about me...
Or what I've written,
You might believe I am not aware...
Please,
Make that known.
But not to me.
I may be too busy...
Plotting to divulge actual evidence to prove,
I know exactly what I'm doing.
And...
I want to ensure,
You reveal your findings...
And make my mistakes public!
I am in waiting for another fool,
To believe I am one as well.
They've got to make up what they say,
Although it is dumb!
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run.
They've got to make up what they say,
Although it is dumb!
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run.
I may be too busy...
Plotting to divulge actual evidence to prove,
I know exactly what I'm doing.
So...
Probe on!
And if you find anything about me...
Or what I've written,
You might believe I am not aware...
Please,
Make that known.
But not to me.
I am not impressed,
With your digressions.
They've got to make up what they say,
Although it is dumb!
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run.
They've got to make up what they say,
Although it is dumb!
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run.
They've got to make up what they say,
Although it is dumb!
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run.
Digressive detectors.
Probing on the run!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magic...
Flashes of happiness, in bright daylight..
A kiss from an angel, in the middle of the night..
Our body does the salsa, our heart happily jives..
Sweet moments of joy, add Magic in our lives..
In our heart where love lingers in the air..
look and you'll find more magical moments there..
These magical moments, we shall always cling to..
Make wonderful memories as our life passes through..
The melody of a flute, the sweet scent of flowers..
The bright rays of sun, the thundering rain showers..
All this is Magic, moments that rekindle eternal flame..
Gives us the courage, to win life's every game..
God gave us some Magic in our glowing eye..
His arms that hold us and tell us not to cry..
There is Magic in our voice, when we talk each day..
This Magic is our smile, adds so much to what we say..
Magic in our heart, makes us bold, brave and true..
This is magic of feelings, shared between me and you..
Magic in our heart, is why we care so much..
magic in our hands, gives us that magical touch..
Magic is the rainbow throwing color's in the dark..
Shiny stars twinkling Magic, gives each night it's spark..
Magic are the waves, that try reaching the shore..
Magic is the sweetest fruit, we strive for more and more..
Added Magic to our emotions, is the reason we fall in love..
This world is the stage, the show is presented from up above..
God does his own tricks, pulls a bunny from his hat..
The Biggest Magic of my life, was the one moment we met..
Life teaches Magic, this is here that we learn..
The tricks to find peace, the tricks to have fun..
Float in the river of Magic, keep all sorrows at the bay..
Have a li'l 'Abra Ka Dabra...' in your life everyday...
poem by Abhijit Surve
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Man's best companion
Patience is the greatest weapon of man
By exercising patience
Every enduring task is accomplished
Patience is a kind of worship
It is a great service to God
When everyone deserts him
It is his patience that stands by him
In happiness patience prevents him From going astray
In his sorrow patience saves him
From being rigid to God
Patience is his best companion
Through thick and thin.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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There is something magical about kissing in the rain. Rain drops fall all over you—your face, hair, skin—and your clothes cling to you as if you are melting. And your man is holding you tight as you hear nothing but rain and feel nothing but his touch on your body and the wet grass between your toes. The moment lasts, the moment you feel alive and as one with nature. A few wet drops break the passionate seal of your two lips as you taste the beautiful rain and your lover in one glorious sensual motion.
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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I Believe
It's a happy song that my heart sings
It seems that I have magical new wings
To fly away and touch greater new heights
It seems struggles are over left behind all fights
Once again my beliefs reaffirmed reinstated
No matter how much I protested against it debated
There's one power above us who knows it all
Forgives all our shortcomings and is there when we call
But this call needs to be deep rooted and pure
If you ask with faith there are answers for sure
When you think all the doors are closed for you
Don't worry close your eyes take a deep breath or two
The answer is in the colours in front of your eyes
Sometimes we may miss it due to stress confusion or lies
Put aside all your fears, jealousy and hate
There's enough for everyone understand this mate
For different people aspire for different things
He makes sure that each heart has a beautiful tune to sing
So he gives the tune but you make your own song
Just listen to your heart you will never go wrong
I guess that's what happened with my life in a way
Every moment so blessed and precious is each day
I thank you 'o' lord for you patience with me
Now I know you have better plans for me
Now I know you have better plans for me
poem by Rima Sharda
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The Price I Pay
They tell me I'm the talk of the town
I've been staying home alone every night
It's nobody's business where I'm bound
As if to be alone and lonely just ain't right
On a old freight train moving down the line
I'm counting each day every minute that you're away
I've never been the stay at home kind
But for you it's just the price that I pay
It's just the price I pay for loving you
The price I pay for needing you so much
The price I pay for needing you
And putting all this time between us
I knew I was in trouble when we met
Dark clouds all around me I couldn't find the light
These hard times ain't hard to forget
Now I believe in love at first sight
I'm putting my heart and soul on the line
I know your love is with me every day
Your picture always there on my mind
But for you it's just the price that I pay
It's just the price I pay for loving you
The price I pay for needing you so much
The price I pay for needing you
And putting all this time between us
song performed by by Dixie Chicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking On Ice
I walk on ice
I play with fire
For loving you, baby
I dance on wire
Oh I can't sleep at night
Loving you I pay that price
Loving you is like walking on ice
Who broke you down
Who's there to blame
Who tore you up inside
And left the pain
Oh, someone burned your life
And everyday I pay that price
Everyday I'm walking on ice
Time after time I wake up and find
I want you, I'm calling
Like always I'm falling on ice
Walking on ice
I can't blink an eye
Loving you I pay that price
Loving you is like walking on ice
song performed by by Quarterflash
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loving That Taste For The Gutter
If they always call those they visit trash,
And on a daily basis they are around them.
What do they regard themselves?
Trash collectors?
Or recycled garbage...
Loving that taste for the gutter.
They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
No matter what they call it they want it like that!
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
They love that taste for the gutter.
Whenever its suspected someone else will attack,
They will defend their trash with a coming back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Yes they love that taste for the gutter.
They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
No matter what they call it they want it like that!
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
They love that taste for the gutter.
If they always call those they visit trash,
And on a daily basis they are around them.
What do they regard themselves?
Trash collectors?
Garbage defenders?
Whenever its suspected someone else will attack,
They will defend their trash with a coming back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Yes they love that taste for the gutter.
Garbage defenders,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
Trash collectors,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont admit or quit,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Garbage defenders,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
Trash collectors,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont admit or quit,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont quit,
That taste for the gutter.
Or admit...
A loving for the gutter.
And wont quit,
That taste for the gutter.
Or admit...
A loving for the gutter.
No they wont admit it,
A loving for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
No they wont admit it,
A loving for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
No they wont admit it,
A loving for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
No they wont admit it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Speak A Bit Of That Moment
Speak a bit of that moment,
A moment that contains centuries,
A moment that halts time,
A moment when someone sees
A route leading beyond the cosmos.
Speak a bit of that moment
When water and clay mingle,
And in a moment of union,
Sprouts a bud of flower.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When eyes become a heart,
When heart becomes eyes,
A star of dream, a rain-bow
Dither on the lashes.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When the Sun places its fire
On the bank of a lake,
And water becomes gold,
Miracles begin to happen.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When Love begins to blather metaphysics
When chest becomes hollow,
And heart dwells in each particle.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When sunbeams begin to fade,
The sights become vague,
The Sun dives down into puddle,
And the forms begins to muddle,
The earth beckons,
The desire of long sleep places her fingers
On the lids of eyes,
Speak a bit of that moment,
Speak a bit of that moment.
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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