En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Father And Son

I carried him on my shoulder,
Held him by hand to schools,
And led him through the puddles.

He led me through the puddles,
Held me by hand to hospitals,
And would carry my body soon.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Puddles

Rain bashing, rain crashing,
In the puddles, children splashing,
Mother's tongue has started lashing,
Everyone is wet!

Rain slopping, rain stopping,
In the puddles, children hopping,
Mother's hands have started mopping,
Everyone, I bet!

Sun waking, sun breaking,
In the puddles, children quaking,
Mother's arms have started shaking,
Everyone, she'll net!

Sun applying, sun drying,
In the puddles, children crying,
Mother's breath is now a sighing,
Everyone's upset!

Sun gleaming, sun scheming,
In the puddles, children steaming!
Mother's smile, now is beaming,
Everyone's her pet!

poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Touch Of Your Hand

On the day that you were born
I touched your hand so chubby and warm.

I touched your hand when you were one
and helped you walk my beautiful son.

I held your hand when you were two.
We ran, your favorite thing to do.

I held your hand when you were three
as you climbed on my lap and smiled at me.

I touched your hand when you were four
as the ocean touched our toes at the shore.

I touched your hand when you were five
walking you to school but when we'd arrive

I felt the tug of your hand from mine
and I knew that we had crossed a line.

I looked at you and released your hand
and said'it's okay I understand.'

As I walked back home I cried some tears
thinking of all our hand holding years.

Holding your hand became sporadic now,
when you were feverish or I felt your brow.

I held your hand a few times as a teen
but always alone so it wouldn't be seen.

I held your hand after you said, 'I do.'
We danced together just me and you.

After some years went by my son
you held the hand of your little one.

And so the times of your life turn around
and now that my hand is old I've found

you take my hand and help me walk
and as you do we intimately talk.

And it takes me back to that bright early morn
when I held your hand so chubby and warm.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Hold On

I was doomed riding on top a black horse.
Whatever prize there was I could only observe where the troubles starts.
Where does it end?
I cannot be cured...mmm...but if...
I know life would be different if I held on, held on.
I know I could be something if I held on.
Gave her life away. Put it in my pocket when it should've been framed.
Oh lost it's shine. Gotta' get this out of my head, out of my head.
How could it end...end like this?
I could've been...
I know life would be different had I held on, held on.
I know I could've been something had I held on, held on.
I know I could be something if I held on, held on.
I know life would be different if I held on, held on.
Held on, held on, if I held on, held on, if I held on, held on, if I held on.

song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Another Land

In another land where the breeze and the
Trees and flowers were blue
I stood and held your hand.
And the grass grew high and the feathers floated by
I stood and held your hand.
And nobody else's hand will ever do
Nobody else will do
Then I awoke
Was this some kind of joke
Much to my surprise
I opened my eyes.

We walked across the sand and the sea and
The sky and the castles were blue.
I stood and held your hand.
And the spray flew high and the feathers floated by
I stood and held your hand.
And nobody else's hand will ever do
Nobody else will do
Then I awoke
Was this some kind of joke
Much to my surprise
When I opened my eyes.

We heard the trumpets blow and the sky
Turned red when I accidently said
That I didn't know how I came to be here
Not fast asleep in bed.
I stood and held your hand.
And nobody else's hand will ever do
Nobody else's hand
Then I awoke
Was this some kind of joke
I opened my eyes.
Much to my surprise.

song performed by by Rolling Stones from Their Satanic Majesties Request
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rose

In my hand I held the rose
As I would a woman dear,
Within my fingers I held it tight
As I wished it would not disappear.
From the touch, sight and beauty that I knew,
When the kiss of beauty, once had blew.

I held the rose as I would a love
As I had held in memory and thought,
And then the rose I could not let go
For the same as a lover, she became my soul.
The stem became the body and the petals became the skin,
Then I held her lightly, within the wind.

The rose held me, as I had held her
The two of us had become one
Then the act of God had prevailed that day
For he commanded the wind to take the rose away.
And towards the heavens She had flew,
As though to join the love that I once had knew.

In my hand there laid a thorn
Though to remind me of the sting of death,
So upon the Earth, I then laid the thorn
So love of life could again be reborn.
I buried the thorn as you would a dream,
Knowing never again, will it be seen.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman Dear

In my hand I held the rose
As I would a Woman dear,
Within my fingers I held it tight
As I wished it would not disappear.
From the beauty that I had knew
When the kiss of beauty, once did flew.

I held the rose as I would a love
As I had held in memory and thought,
Then the rose I could not let go
For the same as a lover, she became my soul.
The stem became a body and the petals became her skin.
Then I held her softly, within the wind.

The rose held me as I held her
The two of us had became one,
Then the act of GOD prevailed that day,
For he commanded the wind to take her away.
Then towards the heavens I saw her flew.
As though to join the love that I once had knew.

In my hand there laid a thorn,
Though to remind me of the sting of death,
So upon the Earth I then laid the thorn
So the love of life could again be reborn.
I buried the thorn as you would a dream.
Knowing never again, will it be seen.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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I Thought I Held You

You're like a moon that's full,
Across a sea of foam
I'm the sky you've been burning
I don't think you even understand
I thought I held you by the hand
I thought I held you
I'm like a songwriter;
You're the reason I've run out,
Run out of metaphors
I don't think you even understand
I thought I held you by the hand
I thought I held you
I thought I held you

song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The requiem of the flies

The rain is crashing upon my face
Its like God is trying to wash away my pain
I look down upon the puddles of mud
Thinking about all the things I have done

The rain is so cold

The dark grey gloom surrounds me
My life is not as it should be
And I don't care anymore
I find that Living is such a bore

The rain is so cold

My mind is numb, cold and blank
This world is passing me by
This world is cold and dank
And I wonder why I have not died

The rain is so cold

Abaddon holds no surprises for me
Under the pale moon I danced on my grave
And I am on my way to hell
I cant deny what is to be

The rain is so cold

My soul is heavy and stained and
I don't want to carry it no more
I carry two coins in my hand
Waiting upon the water's shore

The rain is so cold

The man in white comes for me
Pretending to walk on water
Feet stuttering, hips jutting
About to fall in and he is getting closer

The rain is so cold

There will be no requiescat for me
My apple of Peru has wilted and
The lord of the flies wont let me be
He crushes the flower in my hand

The rain is so cold

It was my last day on earth
The two coins in my hand my life is not worth
My soul knows will know no reprieve
From hell I will never leave

The rain is so cold

My life is to repand upon itself
It is destined to reprise
My song has not ended
But has repetended

The rain is cold

To the Archean I was sent
Where I was meant to repent
Repentir, pentir, paenitere
Until the worlds' end

The rain is so cold

From the puddles of mud I look up
And realize I have gotten old
All my years spent wondering,
And I have no story to be told

The rain is so cold

I can only hope to die one day
And start it all over again but
The lord of the flies wont let me die
I have become one of his flies to my dismay

poem by Leonid Gonzalez
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Into the darkness of His hand

In the deepest valley and the darkest night
There is a hand that holds my hand
And like a child I know not my way
All I know is with whom I stand

There seems to be no way ahead
And the road before me is crumbling
My hand is in my Fathers hand
It is all that keeps me from stumbling

You dare not look to you left or right
For it falls away to the dark abyss
And the path it seems to have come to an end
Yet my hand is held tightly in His

Just when I need my senses the most
And I must not be taken by surprise
I feel my hand in my Fathers hand
And He says ' my son, close your eyes.'

And my head screams out ' you'll fall and die, '
Yet my heart feels my hand in His hand
And the Lord says ' trust in me,
Shut you eyes and together we'll stand'

And so fear and doubt gave way to trust
I closed my eyes and held His hand tight
He led me through the deepest valley
He led me through the darkest night

poem by Frank McEleny
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Relationships--of all kinds--are like sand held in your hand. Held loosely, with an open hand, the sand remains where it is. The minute you close your hand and squeeze tightly to hold on, the sand trickles through your fingers. You may hold onto some of it, but most will be spilled. A relationship is like that. Held loosely, with respect and freedom for the other person, it is likely to remain intact. But hold too tightly, too possessively, and the relationship slips away and is lost.

quote by Kaleel Jamison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Covenant

You were cold, I gave you warmth
You were anxious, I held your hand
And you allowed me, to hold you
Close to my heart and I did you no harm

I was cold, you gave me warmth
I was anxious, you held my hand
And as you liked, you held me
Close to your heart and did me no harm

This was the bargain, only lovers can make
This was the covenant, entered in desperate hope
Late at night in that place we created
But the demons could not be held at bay

poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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My Castle In The Sand

I held on tightly to my child
Tightly i held on
The waves were crashing overhead
But still i did hold on.

The waters drove us up the street
Past where friends and i would meet
Dashing down their houses
And leaving not much there
But i held yes i held on
And on my lips there was a prayer
That these torrents would not make me weak
That somehow i would find
Some calm some peace some easiness
And the earthquake left behind
I held on god i held on
To that tender little hand
She was now my sole ambition
And my castle in the sand.

I caught my breath
A hundred times
A hundred times or more
All that i was grasping was
Her clothes and nothing more.

poem by David Keig
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Held In The Heart

What can be held in the hand
Is not as inportant
As what is held in the heart
For things held in the heart
Can be only lost by you
For you are the only one
That has the power of
Letting go

poem by David Kush
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Held Up With Just A Stick

Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.

Held up with just a stick,
It seems...
Held up with just a stick,
One's head...
Held up with just a stick,
Their arms and their legs...
Needing to be fed.

And...
Held up with just a stick,
One's pride...
Held up with just a stick,
Two eyes and two ears...
Living poverty so near,
To...
Famish it is clear.

And...
Held up with just a stick,
Hunger.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.

Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.

Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.

Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And living this is NOT a gift.

Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.

Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Just One

With one hand I held your hand
And with the other hand I held to my heart
As you are the one who made me complete
So never from you will I leave or part.
With one voice I said that I loved you
But not for just today but forever more
And with that same voice I said that I need you
As you are the happiness that I was looking for.
With one arm I held you to protect you
And with the other arm, for you it will provide
To give you all you need or what you might want
While defending you and keeping you at my side.
With these fingers they will write for you
They will speak of our love and also your beauty
And also so proudly they will wear your ring
As that will be their joy my pride and also my duty.
With one eye I will look forward towards our future
And with the other one it will be here for us today
Always together they will be wanting just to see you
As you are the always for which I had prayed.
With one brain you are always on my mind
With one soul you are all that i’ve got
With one memory you are all that I want to reminisce
And with one smile you are whom I had sought.
With my life to you alone I do give
With you at my side I shall forever go on
Woman may remember and man he might forget
But GOD will know that all it took was just one.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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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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My Skeleton, My Rival

Interesting that I have to live with my skeleton.
It stands, prepared to emerge, and I carry it
with me—this other thing I will become at death,
and yet it keeps me erect and limber in my walk,
my rival.

What will the living see of me
if they should open my grave but my bones
that will stare at them through hollow sockets
and bared teeth.

I write this to warn my friends
not to be shocked at my changed attitude
toward them, but to be aware
that I have it in me to be someone
other than I am, and I write to ask forgiveness
that death is not wholesome for friendships,
that bones do not talk, have no quarrel with me,
do not even know I exist.

A machine called skeleton will take my place
in the minds of others when I am dead
among the living, and that machine
will make it obvious that I have died
to be identified by bones
that have no speech, no thought, no mind
to speak of having let themselves be carried
once around in me, as at my service
at the podium or as I lay beside my love
or when I held my child at birth
or embraced a friend or shook a critic's hand
or held a pen to sign a check or book
or wrote a farewell letter to a love
or held my penis at the bowl
or lay my hand upon my face at the mirror
and approved of it.

There is Ignatow, it will be said,
looking down inside the open grave.
I'll be somewhere in my poems, I think,
to be mistaken for my bones, but There's Ignatow
will be said. I say to those who persist,
just read what I have written.
I'll be there, held together by another kind
of structure, of thought and imagery,
mind and matter, love and longing, tensions
opposite, such as the skeleton requires
to stand upright, to move with speed,
to sit with confidence, my friend the skeleton
and I its friend, shielding it from harm.

poem by David Ignatow
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The touch of man

The old hand held my tender hand
As if it was an accident.
It gave me a thrill.
Yes, a male hand to a hungry girl.
19.11.2005

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Grandfather poem

I remember when grandpa and I seeped
Into the woods to gather chestnuts for someone’s swollen leg
It was autumn
I never learned how to spell autumn until that day

Into the woods to gather chestnuts for someone’s swollen leg
We went, but skipped rocks into puddles instead
I never learned how to spell autumn until that day
The clicking, beating of colors against evergreen brush

We skipped rocks into puddles
We sculpted continents into continents with walnut halves and strings
The clicking, beating of colors against evergreen brush
It was our guide, steering us through no clear paths

Tectonic plates cracked pecan shells,
The word autumn and old sunlight
Under the forest, pebbles chattered, the sound of
Glass marbles inside a coffee grinder inside a little girl’s hand

poem by Indiana Pehlivanova
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Maybe..

It’s been a while
A while since his hand dialed my number
But, today
Today anything seems possible
He could call, he could call
Finally – thank you.

It’s been so long
So long since his eyes found me
But, today
Today he saw me
He saw me, he saw me
Finally – thank you.

It’s been forever
Forever since his arms wrapped around my body
But, today
Today he held me
He held me. He held me
Finally – thank you.

poem by Nikki Taboada
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