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
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Underneath Are The Everlasting Arms
Father into your hands I place
the things I cannot do.
Father into your hands I give
what Irene's going through.
Father into your hands I place
the surgeons and nurses too.
For I know I always can trust you
Father into yours hands I place
my friends and family.
Father into your hands I place
everything that troubles me.
Father into your hands I place
the things I cannot see.
Because You care for Irene and me.
Mercy on me
My body now worn and riddled with pain
FATHER have mercy on me, LORD have mercy on me
Your hand on my life even before my first breath
FATHER of my life, LORD of the wholeness of my life
My life entirely in Your hands
I do not question why my suffering
FATHER Your healing hands on me, LORD Your healing hands on me
My faith and trust in You always
FATHER the author of my being, LORD Your grace upon me
No blame, my life is in You
Your Grace keeps me from long lonely nights
FATHER Your presence comforts me, LORD Your peace in me
Loneliness will never defeat me
FATHER of everlasting love, LORD Your sacrifice in love
Humbled, I surrender to You
Though my breathing becomes harder
FATHER Your breath in me, Lord Your life in me
My eyes become dim, and life escapes me
FATHER, the giver of life, LORD, the healer of my being
Your healing in me, now and forever
poem by Lisa Finney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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in My Father's Hands
You ask me how I cope with life as it is
I simply turn to you and say
It is in my Father’s hands
For it is he alone who my every
Care fully understands
I may fall beneath my heavy load
I may cry and sometimes feel alone too
But it is then that I am reminded
To place all my cares
In my Father’s hands
My hurts I
Give to God who can
Mend all that is broken apart
All my cares are in my Father’s hands
You don’t have to remain sad
Feeling hopeless or alone
For you too only need to
Place all of your cares
In the Father’s hands!
©Copyright 2005 Becky LaPrarie
poem by Becky LaPrarie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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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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 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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Prayer to You
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
For all that you've done for me.
In the early morning hours,
When I arise to greet the Sun...
I feel blessed and prepared,
With such gratefulness...
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
And when noon approaches...
No matter what I have done,
Before that time comes...
That may create a disturbance,
I did not invite nor did I make.
I find time to show it is You I appreciate.
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
Whether or not...
Thunder storms roar,
Or rain drops fall to pitter and pat.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
And at the oncoming of Sunset...
Not one moment do I forget,
The power of Your presence...
That showers the blessings,
From You I get!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Father Of Night
Father of night, father of day,
Father, who taketh the darkness away,
Father, who teacheth the bird to fly,
Builder of rainbows up in the sky,
Father of loneliness and pain,
Father of love and father of rain.
Father of day, father of night,
Father of black, father of white,
Father, who build the mountain so high,
Who shapeth the cloud up in the sky,
Father of time, father of dreams,
Father, who turneth the rivers and streams.
Father of grain, father of wheat,
Father of cold and father of heat,
Father of air and father of trees,
Who dwells in our hearts and our memories,
Father of minutes, father of days,
Father of whom we most solemnly praise.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hands & Knees
You see me walking away
What more could I say than sorry
I failed by all your complaints
You pushed a life change but its not me
And filthy hands lay apon my chest
Lay upon my sin, but I do it for green
And in your mind you are blind
And your back turn so fine
Where were you when I needed you most
So mother so father
Im on my hands and knees
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
My self-indulgence to blame
For all of the shame in the family
You dont know what its like
How I feel how I cry
How I hate the way I hate my life
So mother so father Im on my hands and knees
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
Pues madre, y padre
Esta vida no quiero vivir
So mother so father
I dont want to live this way
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
So mother so father
I dont want to live this way
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
song performed by by Unloco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Father, With His Arthritic Hands
My father, with his arthritic hands
Closes his door, picks up the bow
Tucks the bit under his chin
Tunes it real low
My father can compete with the world's best bands
My father plays the violin.
His eyes are dim but the notes are clear
His hearing is faulty but we can hear
The songs that pour out from within
People outside stop to listen
When my father plays the violin.
He opens up another world
Far from stress and pain
I become a child again
As without a word
He picks up the bow, tunes it real low
My father plays the violin.
My father with his arthritic hands
Holds a magnifying glass to his eyes to read
He sits out there under the clear blue skies
Now that he can hardly walk
(Luckily my sisters are there when he needs to talk) .
And when its dusk and he enters within
Then with his arthritic hands
Father picks up his violin.
poem by Rani Turton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blackthorn
The blackthorn was his father's,
a piece of Ireland
that the old man could still get his hands around
even as his hands grew weak,
refused to hold. My father
never knew Ireland;
when he gripped the walking stick
it was something else he was holding on to.
I watched my father
get old; he would stare at his hand
and open and close his fist,
try to fight the arthritis.
By then he had lost the stick,
and he could have used it
to work his grip, to beat
at the hard knot that was tying him up.
When he died he was laid in the ground
only a few feet from his father,
while in Ireland the sturdy blackthorns
were defying that sad land
and bursting with white blossoms.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Louis McKee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Father, Waken
Father, wake
Look at the days, time for a change
Father, wake
Scary scenario, time for a change
Father, wake
Open your eyes, from their secret place
My hands, they shake,
Like everybody, we pray
Black night Sunday, there’s no room for change
Father, wake
I watch everybody, the wolves are at play
There’s no room for mistake but he’s tasted their water
Father, wake
Look at the days, time for a change
Father, wake
Scary scenario, time for a change
Father, wake
Open your eyes, from their secret place
My hands shake, shake, shake hard
The hounds are at the door
Father, wake, wake
Witness the falling days
He’s creeping crawling in our wake
He’s tasted there water
Father wake wake
Please I pray to thee
poem by Daniel Richards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Let Us Pray
Oh Father, oh Father
Come and take us by our hands
As we pray to you dear Father
For a cleansing across our land
Let us pray for the sick
And those that are old
Cling to us dear Father
We still need You, to hold
Pray for the poor
Even the beggars on the street
Help to guide them along
May they find something to eat
Let's pray for our soldiers
Who have stood up to fight
Leaving behind their families
Just to help protect our rights
Let us pray for the blind
May they finally get to see
May these prayers reach across the lands
And set many burdens free
Let's pray for love and friendship
May they spread like a wild fire
May we all love with Your passion
And burn with a true desire
so pray with us Oh Father
As we pass the hands of time
And help all hearts to heal
Starting with some friends of mine
OH LET US PRAY
wrote 2/2/2009 by Norman Hale Jr.
poem by Norman Hale
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Daddy's Hands
strong, powerful hands
love and blessings touch my head
happy father's day
happy father's day 5-7-5 haiku
haiku by Marius Alexandru (June 2020)
Submitted by anonym
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He...a father...an insentient.
He is a father,
Walking door to door,
Running here and there,
Begging the sympathy,
Ragging his own,
Only for his child,
Who is now in coma,
Fighting with death,
He...a father...an insentient.
He is a father,
Staring at the body,
His eyes are foggy and wet,
That body belongs to his son,
Who is now past only,
Only for a few dollars,
Or for a sympathy of kind hearts,
He...a father...an insentient.
He is not alone,
Lots like him around us,
Waiting for our hands,
Seeking for our helps,
He can not but cry,
He is so incapable,
Only see his child to loose,
Far away from him,
He...a father...an insentient.
You, me, anyone of us,
Would be one like him,
Please raise our hands,
Save a life of a child,
Not for the sake of god,
Not for him or his child,
Just for us, our child,
Not let them to die for dollars,
Not let to sigh and cry,
Any man of poverty like him,
He...a father...an insentient.
poem by Kafil Uddin Raihan.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Father Boy
Oh Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You didn’t see the signs
You didn’t hear a thing did you
Oh Father Boy, my dear
You didn’t see, you didn’t look, you didn’t listen either
You didn’t try to understand
You didn’t take the time
You weren’t a Father, Father Boy, you weren’t a Father, Father.
Oh Father Boy, Father Boy
When a Father has a Boy
To be a Father, Father see
You have to see the Boy
The Boy inside the Father
And the Father in the Boy
But Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You just didn’t pay attention
For a Boy to be a Father, Father
He cannot be a Father Boy.
(Previously published in Megaera, #4, Fall 2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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The Letter My Father Will Never See
if only one last time i could see you. if only one time i could tell you what i think. if only one time i could say what i've been thinking for all these years. if only i could just not care. if only it didn't hurt so much. if only i could say that you dont matter. if only i could tell you. if only one time you'd listen. if only you knew. if only i could tell you your an ass. if only i could say and put into words what you've put me through. if only you were around to say good job.
as a father you have failed. as a father you were never there. as a father you never held me. as a father you never cared. as a father you never gave me praise. as a father you never brushed my hair. as a father you didn't teach me about life. as a father you didn't teach me how to care. as a father you never showed me love. as a a father you you let me cower in the corner. as a father you scared the hell out of me every night of the week. as a father you came home drunk. as a father you didn't put me to bed. as a father you never gave me a hug as a father you were my worst night. however, for some reason i cant fathom your my father. and for the same reason i cant fathom how you earned the title when being a father was one thing that you never were and dont seem to want to be.