What did my hands do before they held you?
quote by Sylvia Plath

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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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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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

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My Father's Hands
I see my father's hands
Long fingered, elegant beauty
Shivering tremors replacing strength
Once they held the world
Once they held my hands
Safe in their elegant length
when I first faced this world
My small hands in his
shivering tremors, giving me strength
I see my father's hands
When I look at my own
What's A Heaven For
'Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp-
or what's a heaven for? '
-Robert Browning
This life
is all
in my hands
It's where I held
dreams desires
Too many mysteries
Losses lives loves
Where I've held words
like broken heaven heart
Lifted up every moment
like a feather or cloud
These hands
once opened
themselves
into yours
Entered
your fingers
one by one
Embraced
each one
as though
unfolding
heaven
I still reach
for you
in the night
My hands
empty
But I keep
dreaming
Or what's a heaven for
poem by Ari' Anna Arena

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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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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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We Aint Much Different
(gary rossington -- johnny vanzant -- hughie thomasson -- rickey medlocke -- mike estes)
This is a story bout livin
A tale of a long hard road
Aint a whole lot of misgivins
Of the things that I thought I sowed
My daddy was a real hard worker
He said son there will come a day
Talk aint always cheap
And heres what daddy had to say
With these hands Ive made my livin
With these hands Ive held a child
With these hands Ive climbed a mountain
Sometimes we forget
We aint much different at all
He likes grits, you like the apple
There aint nothin wrong with that
He says yall, you say youse
It all depends on where youre at
Well a little bit of music is a whole lot of fun
And its always good for the soul
From new york city out to california
You know its only rock and roll
With these hands we come together
With these hands we can change the world
With these hands I play my music
Sometimes we forget
We aint much different at all
Oh, not at all
So what Im trying to tell you
Is that Im only one son of the south
Its gonna take more than you me and you
To work this whole thing out
With these hands Ive made my livin
With these hands Ive held a child
With these hands Ive climbed a mountain
Sometimes we forget
With these hands we come together
With these hands we can change the world
With these hands I play my music
Sometimes we forget
We aint much different
We aint much different
Aint much different
At all
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is No If...
Remember the first time i told you i love you -
It was raining hard and you never heard -
You sneezed! and i had to say it over
"i said i love you" i said... you didn't say a word
Just held you hands to my shining eyes
And i watched as the rain ran through your fingers
Held your hands to my shining eyes and smiled as you kissed me...
"if you die" you said "so do i" you said...
And it starts the day you make the sign
"tell me i'm forever yours and you're forever mine
Forever mine..."
"if you die" you said "so do i" you said...
And it starts the day you cross that line
"swear i will always be yours and you'll always be mine
You'll ways be mine
Always be mine..."
Remember the last time i told you i love you -
It was warm and safe in our perfect world -
You yawned and i had to say it over
"i said i love you" i said... you didn't say a word
Just held your hands to your shining eyes
And i watched as the tears ran through your fingers
Held your hands to your shining eyes and cried...
"if you die" you said "so do i" you said...
But it ends the day you see how it is
There is no always forever... just this...
Just this...
"if you die" you said "so do i" you said
But it ends the day you understand
There is no if... just and
There is no if... just and
There is no if...
song performed by by Cure

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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

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Age Of Flowers, Love And Song
Banners held in up reaching hands
Writings of peace and love across our lands
Flowers of love, not war
Held out in hands by the score
Music with everlasting lilting tunes
Drift across the battlefield ruins
Rifles held in charging flair
Flowers of peace hanging there
Soon the winter throes upon us come
Flowers wilt and die
Flower power fading fast
Soon to be only joyous moments of the past
Age of flowers, love and song
Gone now, what did we do wrong
What happen to our dreams of love
And our peace doves
Gone with flakes of first snow
Gone where I do not know
12 July 1978
poem by David Harris

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The Dying Child
He could not die when trees were green,
For he loved the time too well.
His little hands, when flowers were seen,
Were held for the bluebell,
As he was carried o'er the green.
His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
He knew those children of the spring:
When he was well and on the lea
He held one in his hands to sing,
Which filled his heart with glee.
Infants, the children of the spring!
How can an infant die
When butterflies are on the wing,
Green grass, and such a sky?
How can they die at spring?
He held his hands for daisies white,
And then for violets blue,
And took them all to bed at night
That in the green fields grew,
As childhood's sweet delight.
And then he shut his little eyes,
And flowers would notice not;
Birds' nests and eggs caused no surprise,
He now no blossoms got;
They met with plaintive sighs.
When winter came and blasts did sigh,
And bare were plain and tree,
As he for ease in bed did lie
His soul seemed with the free,
He died so quietly.
poem by John Clare

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I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all; but whatever I have placed in God's hands, that I still possess.
quote by Martin Luther

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miles And Miles
years and years,
miles and miles...
of hands,
grasping mine, holding on
for a time and then letting go...
being grasped by mine,
being pulled up, pulling up,
held onto in spite of...
black, brown, white, and red...
male and female, old and young,
soft, gnarled, and scarred...
hands joining together,
backs against the wall,
hands that pray without letting go,
hands that let go
when the time demands...
hands that build and take down,
that deliver and stand by...
hands powered by hearts
that beat true and human!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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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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The wedding cake couple
The wedding cake couple
Held hands on-top in vigil
Clinging on to each other tightly
There ‘I do's' written in song
Lasted just as long as it took!
Mother in law to take another
Man across the ebony dance floor.
Her six more devoured the cake
But are wedding cake couple
They still held hands in vigil
On the last tier of the disaffected
So they pervaded and kissed
But then great grandma waltzed
In like an elephant to depose
All those who imposed self will
She cared little for our wedding cake couple
She snapped them down the middle
Just to see if they weren't just candy too.
But are wedding cake couple
They still held hands somewhere later
They pervaded and kissed
And renewed their vows
Clinging on to each other tightly,
There 'I do's' written in song
Lasted just as long as it took!
The disco-ball world to end...
poem by Mark Heathcote

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My Father's Hands
My Father's Hands
As I look upon my father's hands
now a spotted, wrinkled road map,
that time, sun and sweat,
have hardened them to a painted tortoise shell.
Those, the same hands that I once feared,
and yet at the same time so gentle
that they held my tiny hand deep within.
I feared nothing as if he was the grace of God.
Will they still remember me?
My Father's hands.
9 April 2008
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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Sestina - Safe Hands
I enfold her as if I hold in my hands
A diaphanous shawl woven loosely
From silken skeins of hope and fear. I feel
Strongly, she’s so much part of me. Obliviously
She wriggles free. I glance at my daughter
Her mum, and marvel at inheritance.
I wrap all this stuff of inheritance
Into trust, quietly hoping the safe hands
Of my kindly, compassionate daughter
Will suffice. Experience tells me loosely
Held reigns are best. The child plays obliviously.
I watch. She echoes in me. Trembling I feel
The pain inevitably she will feel.
I fear quietly; knowing her inheritance;
The curse of memory. Now obliviously
She recalls careless conversation. Hands
On to me stray words, understood loosely
With looks I try to forewarn my daughter
But the treacherous trait has skipped. My daughter
Down to earth, sensible, is born not to feel
Hurts that haunt, doubts that linger loosely.
If only we could choose the inheritance
We bequeath. But it is out of our hands,
We make love, create life obliviously.
I say nothing, pretend obliviously
Disguise fears I dare not share. My daughter
Who loves her, is all she needs. Holding hands
We walk through bustling, crowded streets. I feel
Her tiny linked fingers. The inheritance
Of knowing held gently within mine, loosely.
The web of my life was woven loosely
I held fast to no-one. Obliviously
This child makes me unearth an inheritance
Painstakingly hid. Bonded by my daughter
To my granddaughter tenderly I feel
Burning passions branded into our hands.
Envoi
I held her loosely, I let my daughter
Feel, obliviously unaware of my
Inheritance, she unbinds my hands
poem by Janet Budd

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Move Along
Go ahead as you waste your days with thinking
When you fall everyone sins
Another day and you've had your fill of sinking
With the life held in your
Hands are shaking cold
These hands are meant to hold
Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through
Move along
Move along
So a day when you've lost yourself completely
Could be a night when your life ends
Such a heart that will lead you to deceiving
All the pain held in your
Hands are shaking cold
Your hands are mine to hold
Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through
Move along
(Go on, go on, go on, go on)
When everything is wrong we move along
(Go on, go on, go on, go on)
When everything is wrong, we move along
Along, along, along
When all you got to keep is strong
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through
[x3]
(Move along)
(Go on, go on, go on, go on)
Right back what is wrong
We move along
song performed by by All American Rejects

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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