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Long Power Poems | Long Power Poetry

Long Power Poems. Below are the most popular long Power by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Power poems by poem length and keyword.

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Long Poems
Long poem by T Wignesan | Details |


                                                  Free Power
                                         O                     P                   S
                                            W                                   S
                                               E                             E
                                                   R   -  M A D  -  N           
                                                       free power
                                                   from its fetters
                                         no power without the people
                                   does power arise from any other source
             than through the intent to control  confine  confiscate  con  conk  conjure 
    computerize  contort  compel  complicate  concoct  compress  concuss  conflict 
 confute                  condemn  corrupt  collar  convict  collectivize                   confound 
 concenter                   communalize  collogue  collude  collonize                commandeer    
        compartmentalize  castrate  calumniate crucify  combinate  cutdown  curtail        
       curryfavour  curb  cully  cuff  cuckold  crush  crunch  cross-question curveball     
        conform  confuse criticize  croak  criminate  crash  cramp  cram  crackdown    
                                                    covert   counterplan   
                   countermine  counterfeit  counterattack  corrode  convert  contrive 
                                           contaminate  constrain  consecrate 
                                                      connive  conquer 
                                            power is a venomous snake
                                                       that sheds its skin
                                                        but not its venom
                                                   free power from its sting
                                                     free power from belief
                                                    from self-righteousness
                                       from don’t-not-look-at-me aloofness
                                           from protective-damnedness
                                              from ego-centred-ness
                                                 from megalomanic mindlessness
                                                          from aryo-apartheid-ness
                                                              from i’m-right-Jack exclusiveness
                                                                        from self-opining holiness
                                                                                from crass-headed-ness
                                                     from puritanic-mule-headedness                                                                                                        
                                                           from airy-fairy grandiloquence
                                                                   from haughty vengefulness
                                                                        from scary authoritarianism
                                                                             from the love of command
                                                              from sexually dominating abusiveness
                                                                   from un-empathic tightfistedness
                                                             from back-scratching dastardliness                                                                                
                                                        from building castles in the air-ness
                                                                        from masonic clubbiness
                                                                   from musty brotherhood-ness
                                                         from stealing and selling-ness
                                                               from never-enough greediness
                                                                    from carion-loving usury                                                             
                                                 from thoughtless puttingdown-ness
                                                       from self-aggrandizing acquisitiveness
                                                                      from the love of pomposity                                                                                                                                                       
                                                          from the seclusive-ness of honours
                                                                 from fawning and flattery
                                                                       from foggy non-visibility
                                                                                from armoured parades
© T. Wignesan, Fresnes-Paris, May 14-17, 1997.  From the collection : « Poems Omega Plus : a less than obvious sequence », Paris, 2005.                           

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Chicken Soup Farm

Relationships are like farming,
if you don't plant the seed,
you'll have no crop to harvest.
Rumi (M. Mafi, trans.)

Gambling is like farming,
if you don't play the game,
you'll have no winnings.

Economics is like farming,
if you don't play the mutual cooperative game,
you'll have no competitive winnings.

Ecologic is like farming,
if we don't play the mutual mentoring Climax Community game,
we'll have no long-term sustainable,
much less optimized systemic,

Stay aware and purposeful in your search,
for happiness is truly in the searching.

Stay awake and purposeful in our research,
for peacefulness,
ecological economies are true within this polycultural searching.

Stay awake and mindful of polypathic meaning
in your Regenerative Permaculture Designed Research,
for happiness, confluence, equity, truth, Prime Relationship Balanced Teleology
are truly within this self-optimizing SuperEco searching.

How do we sleep while part of us is gone?
Frogs and night birds,
bats and insects cry out for company
filling raucous warm luscious breeze
gentle, caressing,
carrying chicken soup songs of love
not yet won,
love wanted and needed with primal longing
to belong back together
for our first really great time.
How do we sleep
while part of us is gone?

Night flight resolves revolving chatter,
fractal spinning spiral-echoes
haunting iconic timeless teachings
from potential future Right-brain memory
predicative facts,
intuiting predictors,
confluent, confident islands of prophetic sanity
boundary inspiring polycultures,
multi-open systems of optimal communication.

How do we sleep
in this racket of absent SuperEgo
missing evil hope of flight tonight?
God as the Doomed and Dooming Ground of All Being,
under Whom we hide from shamed non-redeeming character,

We thought we were economically neutral
on Goddess Moving Train of Earth,
oblivious to Her climatic millennial warnings
to ease up on the fire power,
take a break,
let's cool down,
enjoy some slower peace and more mindfully inclusive justice.

Remaining neutral in our farming cooperative relationships,
admittedly a slower moving train,
and yet it helps to confluently comprehend we are spinning 
with Common balancing thermodynamic balance,
and how fast is too fast, too Yangish,
and how slow is too slow, too Yinnish,
and when we might slow down to rebalance Yang with Yin,
and how much we might slow down
emerges permaculturally predicated
as [+Yang = (-)(-)Yin] = [+PolyNomial 0-sum equivalent to (-)Not-PolyBiNomial-4-Prime Spacetime Dimensionally Balancing Vortex] Open Natural Systemic
or +1/(-)0 = space/time binary Closed MetaSystem fractal-holonic-octaved reverse-hierarchical balance,
to sustain our permacultured rich teleological neutrality on Gaia's regenerative train.

How do we wake
when part of Us is gone?
How do we awaken
our search for polycultural economic justice standards
for researching well-being sustenance,
self-optimizing regeneration with SuperEco Mindfulness Intent?
Planting regenerative seeds,
to grow redemptive pay-it-forward gift economies,
winnowing metasystemic research to optimize repurposing meaningful purpose,
EarthTribe's ecological self-redemption future day
covering love, peace, happiness, contentment, justice, information, confluence roots
with threats, opportunities, strengths, weaknesses systemically balanced compost,
learning faith and hope in suffering dissonance as cooperative redemption,
evolutionary research,
the Permaculturalist Economic Tao:
sleep and wake and absorb others, as you would have them be you NOW
we re-emerge our SuperEcoTribe's cultural therapeutic,

Natural systems are to spiritual systemic comprehension,
as Physics is to Metaphysical Universe (B. Fuller's definition),
as Yang is to Yin,
as Polynomial Information is to Double-Bound Negative Polynomial Information Balancing Trends.

Polypathic and multisystemic relationships are like therapeutic organic farming,
if you don't plant fractal-holonic DNA/RNA-encrypted seeds,
you'll not have an Optimized PermaCultural crop to harvest.

Ain't nobody here 'ceptin us Chickens
and somehow we all land in this soupy mess together.
Let's start lickin' each other's wounds.

Long poem by Raymond Ngomane | Details |

State Of My Opinion

Once upon a struggle
Songs used to express and define a feeling before reactions struggled to impress a rumbling stomach
Songs used to harmonize our black lips giving away the strength of empty tummies
Lips were diguised in masks of zam-buk aiders
I live next to embarrasment built in power craving bricks

A house that give birth to Load shedded leaders
I choose chocolate skins dressing smart reactions
Choking on words drafted on school chalkboards like Mbeki's state of mind resurection speech
Every second in my creation, 
a hand pulls a trigger to rob souls whats ment for dinner
Get it or dont get me just look at the corner of my thoughts
This is poetry

This is my written confidence conducting a choir of confessions
My mouth craves to shoot military opinions
I choke words to impress my existance attached to all conscious writings
In the midst of wrong times at the expense of our leader's useless time celebrating ignorance
The state of Julius Caesar seized at a nation's heated selfmade selfish awards

Our votes planted rain and forgot muds and mop sticks
Buttocks play suprise jaw gestures as extras with less umbrellas
The Architects of futureless champion times in the back seat of our helpless knowledge
Fear less of your fears
Its poetry in Politics

Poetry pollute ignorance and rejects any dictatorship shipping from goverment pimps
Toilet queues are too strict to jump conclusions
and waisted opinions
I am pressed and oppressed  
I graduated in depression carrying a school bag of my reasons
My black skin will bury my thoughts at your own funerals
I am a walking poem
My education speaks against your numeral straggles 
My political virgin actions exercise mini immortal respect

My mind state is highly pressed 
Lets 6-9 on our parliament doors in atittude
Poetry screams the need for them state of minds
The hunters of truth in rhymes
Verbal exchange battles to change opinions at the expense of my people's change
Verbal violance changed the meaning of an educated homeless stomach
You spoke and littered gallons of spoken words
Tladi, Kgafela, Lesego re feng masego
The pain of giving birth to poverty was never painful for these learders
Leaders Who lead to feed us handwork leaders
Handshaking the success of a visible thief

Bleeders change your scissors
Your poetic blades cannot play polygamy in parliament
These Perpetrators penetrate our hearts from a distance measurement
Adament to show off easyness of playing a nation as a primary school assembly
Bulls determent to press elevations of oppression to the last floor
The evolution of my opinions is high in poetry
The revolution will never be compromised 
Please restore faith in my written oppressions with no humor
The state of my opinion circles around Jakobo's puma 
We need Kwame Nkruma

6-9 = Street slang meaning Urinating
Tladi, Kgafela, Lesego re feng masego = A plea for help from Poets Lefifi Tladi, Kgafela oa Magogodi and Lesego Rampolokeng
Vuma = Agree?

(c) Raymond Ngomane

Long poem by Christine Phillips | Details |

Reveal Your Face

Crawl out of your peeping hole 
and face me like a man
You have been hiding for years
and paying people to do your sordid scam
For years you have taunted me
without showing any mercy
invading my privacy
monitoring my computer
tracing my movements
and intimidating me with coward gangster
You have sabotaged my employment
Shows up at my job interviews
instructed my employer to banish me
just to see the other side of me
Touch not God’s anointed 
Or your sorrows shall be multiplied
You have punished everyone who contacted me
and fabricates false stories and treacherous lies 
You have broadcasted it on the news
And have caused many people to become confused
It’s time to stop your filthy scam
and close that chapter before you are dammed
If you do not stop hurting me
there will be another worldwide disgrace 
staring in your beguiling face
You have punished the innocent ones
who have decided not to do wrong
I have kept out of your way
but you crawl back the other way
I am ready for a real fight
I will beat you without guns or knives
I have cried seven days on my ancestor’s grave
And seven powerful sprits will come after you
in seven different ways
they will strip you of your abusive power
daub you in your own mud
and drench you with flood
I have also prayed a strong prayer
hoping for your forgiveness
but he promised that you will bear
your own shame disgrace and drunken laughter
I have wept day and night stayed up late
yet you kept following me looking for a fight
creating false stories for your meaningless glory 
Take a look at your shaking hands
you are no match for my iron man
If you are so strong and heinous
Why don’t you come out of your peeping hole 
confront me and fight me like a real man
Come with your bullet less guns
your entourage and wimpy bodyguards
Real warriors go to war 
they do not stage events or create false alarm
If you are so big and mighty 
why  are so many people in your house dying of poverty
Look around you and you will see
you spend all the money running after me
And your people are hungry homeless and dirty
your house is about to tumble 
Your buildings are old and shabby
And I can barely drive on your cracked road
Look I just damage my windshield 
from a pebble on your broken roads
Your children cannot read or write
Your classrooms are old and crummy
Yet every day you are running after my innocent soul
the people you have running after me
are actually working for me?
They are slaves in my land
while the bad boys are reaping gold in your land
You set up fake mad men at the junction
and little children to guard the centers
You send fake alcoholic teachers in classrooms 
to suppress innocent students brain
Yet with all of that you still cannot get to the top
I have travelled thousands of miles to be at peace
but you track me down and
sold me to heartless murderers 
Look my ferocious bull is about to get you
he is my bodyguard and fearless warrior
if you don't leave me alone
He will rip your sordid gut apart
before the fiery battle starts

©2013 Christine Phillips

Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |


                                                          STEALING FROM A GODDESS

   At Dawn
   I wait
   Beside the sea
   Under the tree
   Behind the dunes
   For his arms.

                                                  by colors without confines of name
                                                  I stand
                                                  By the mirrored waves—

                                                  Bronzed by Dawn’s immortal dazzling eye--
                                                  My Beloved’s smile
                                                  Goddess bruise-kissed brilliant
                                                  Looks up
                                                  Still shy-- but painted guilty
                                                                  In unfamiliar splendor--
                                                  God-like himself
                                                  Ignited by a bronze lit blaze.

                                                  I do not turn to face him—
                                                  but look-- water down--devour
                                                  His beloved smile
                                                  Insistently appealed forgiveness--
                                                  Dimples-- flashing his secrets, seek me
                                                            from the rippling water--
                                                  Breaking through the brilliance
                                                  Encasing me in
                                                      warm muscled arms which escape
                                                       the mad reflection.

                                                  Faintly in my ear flickers
                                                  Delicate-- but Jealous-- moans--
                                                  The Morning Goddess,
                                                  She, Pulled once again 
                                                            into timeless sandy dunes--
                                                            Aurora’s seaside prison hideaway

'Til Twilight
Beside the sea
Under the tree
Behind the dunes
We love.

                                            (In throes of wildest passion 
                                         there lingers the delicious thought—
                                                          Stealing from a goddess
                                               Is a rare-- but heady-- morsel.)

Aug 12 2013©

Long poem by LATARSHA GRANDBERRY | Details | . You can read it on' st_url='' st_title='A Woman's Worth'>

A Woman's Worth

A Woman’s Worth
When she walks in the room
she wants people to stop and stare
not because they’re whispering…
what she got on girl, what’s up with that hair?
But because she looks good, conservative and chic
looking her best from head to feet
she knows the spiked heels and look at me blouse
will make all the men become aroused
she knows that look would make conditions tense
but how she’s dressed builds confidence
she doesn’t do loud make-up, green hair or tight skirts,
if you don’t know, how will anyone else know your worth?
Not trying to be  Nicki Manage,
never putting on a fascad
being original, still blending in
all because she’s good  in her own skin
She looks pretty
and carries herself well,
clothes should hide
what only time should tell
When a man calls us out of our name
boy, do we get offended
Aretha told us the Rule of R-e-s-p-e-c-t
It’s usually us that bend it
Wearing anything to work, 
any and everything to church
talking that ghetto talk
walking that ghetto walk
telling your friends, girl, he don’t respect me
your friends telling you that you save nothing to see
Asking him out first
Not knowing your worth
You didn’t give him a chance
giving all of yourself on a one night stand
sitting there wondering why he didn’t call
now you’re starting to feel about 2 feet tall
think back, yall never took the time to ask for number and name
now you’re feeling so ashamed
It wasn’t your smile or your smarts that got you here
that drink, you didn’t think
Oh, is that a tear?
Men respect us based on how we think of ourselves
they measure us on what our body tells
what is your body telling?
that you have something you’re selling?
there’s so much you can tell with your body
you don’t have to be revealing to be a hottie
besides, I have daughters and they’re watching me
I try to always give them something beautiful to see
what are we teaching our little girls?
that our bodies will further in this world?
the answer to that question is no 
the BIBLE says train a child in the way they should go
what we need to understand as women we deserve respect
but sometimes what we give is what we usually get
when most men see a woman in low -cut shirts, short skirts and high heels
to him you’re worth about as much as a happy meal
if I’m a meal, I’m Crème Brouleé , Beluga Caviar, Laute Truffle Chocolate, with 1945 Chauteau Vintage wine,
That’s who I am all the time
Be who you are, 
can’t be me, I’m taken
If you think you can live as someone else
you’re sadly mistaken
I’m a woman every week,
365 days a year
I don’t clock out
I wanna make that clear
Ok, sometimes I can joke and be crazy, 
but I never forget that I’m a lady
so girls, get it right,
you can stay on your grind

Long poem by nick armbrister jimmy boom semtex | Details | . You can read it on' st_url='' st_title='juniper's daughter picks a man'>

juniper's daughter picks a man

Juniper’s Daughter Picks a Man 
On a cold rainy early winter night Juniper’s Daughter landed her flying disc on the car park of Aldi and went for a beer. She was dressed in casual attire so as not to stand out, she wanted a man and did it the old skool way. Juniper’s Daughter sauntered in the bar held the door open with one hand and let all of the men in the venue get a good look at her, in turn she took in each of them. 
Most were crap but one caught her eye. She slowly looked his way and made eye contact and entered the pub, walking over to him. Two dozen sets of male eyes and several female tracked her as she went to the bar and stood next to the man. The witch shook her hair and ruffled it with her hand. 
Turning she glanced at the man and announced in her Danish accent, “Hi there, you gonna buy me a drink then?”
The man looked at the young woman beside him noticing that she was toned up under her loose fitting casual clothes and replied, “Yea why not. What are you having?”
“Why young man I’ll have you! I mean I’ll have a beer!” Laughed the witch slightly blushing, this got the man exited and guaranteed his interest in her. 
His gaze never left Juniper’s Daughter she looked into space at the spirit bottles upside down behind the bar. The man ordered the drinks in a flustered voice, losing his cool a little? She smiled gently at him and asked his name, he replied, “Jason.”
“I’m Anna but people call me The Witch due to my blond hair and looks coz I’m from Denmark. I don’t mind that actually.”
“Really? I’ve never been to Denmark but I like their beer they make, really good. Have you drunk it?”
“Oh yes my love, I’ve had it many times. Thanks for the beer.”
The couple were quiet for a minute drinking their drinks and thinking about the other, he liked the blond lady. She wasn’t like local gals and did she really want him or slip up? 
She liked the young man from first glance and soon she would make love to him in her flying disc after their drinks. Moving closer to the man, Jason, Anna gently held his hand and slowly moved her face towards his and kissed him once on he lips. 
He didn’t back away or resist, he met her kiss and parted the witch’s tongue with his kissing her deeply, she closed her eyes and ignored the envious looks from other people at the bar and tables in the pub. A few people whispered and pointed, this doesn’t normally happen and who was this foreign gutsy stranger? 
After a long timeless kiss the witch let her hand brush Jason’s jeans feeling his bulge, they kissed again and finished their drinks. She whispered that she wanted him and held out her hand, he took it and followed her. Together they left the pub and walked over to the car park where he thought her car was parked. 

Long poem by Timothy Jacks | Details |

In The West Rap Lyrics

off too see her 
now we sliding on chrome slippining past slip;ery serpents
its certain its aknown fact
dont push me cause i push back
push black white in the night and
winding sliding sliders right in time too
clean out the doom, demons doomed i clean out the room
i b by bout an hour or so
now you see how the power flows
now episodes after episodes
bring hate out these dirty hoes
stop! in this hour sharks
wolves dressed up as friends false as they always are
pull out my sword and hand you the power source
plug in girl get on board
passion beats down your door
if u asked me i wouldnt tell you no
flows wrote by the pound and more
this round is mine the battle too
faughjt and never lost it
im a straight line once you cross me
step on this side retractors pop and eject you
you dont disrespect me
unless you next to me
next u might b the next in line
take my time help u out a bind
bilnd men i never concide with or confine in
you woulda already come to see me if you was my friend
as true as two times ten
blow em out the waterwhen u and i r in
his power expired quit and retire
or yes i will baptise his ass with fire
pow! shellshocked are we
this is the sound of me marching regardless if its darkness or seeming hopeless
it dont get me out my focus
do u really wanna oppose this, 
opponets and foes too
i rap and unfold and she dosnt even know it
sitting pretty in her pose, she knows she takes off her clothes
bold to behold breathtaking like frost lips on gloss
words spoke so soft leads me down through halls
like baja. like she takes the bra off
let me see play my cards right
spades trump im in the power
leave pain claen in the shower 
go from hot too cold too
this is my block i hold it
shellshocked a Soldier
bellhops in the parking lot ballet
drop by the bar for a shot
chasers on the lips
words soft refined and polished
not to fall, not to be tooken lightly
calm in the face of fire
recongnize this face of mine
thuggish set in hardlines
polite im there im on it
delightful, elegant, well spoken
a sight to behold a force for opponents
destroyed are false thoughts, cross the friction out
i fit the description, of the one you can depend on
take this chrome, together we sitting on
feel the strenght, and now the feelings deeper
i dont need a bed to sleep on
as i take a nap in your thoughts
we dont need to talk a lot, as we watch falling stars
we share something kinda strange, the rest cant undersatnd it
anthems yes i hand them
gift rapped, u love me i give back
no sense in acting foolish
we aint about puppy love
thunder thumping some
shellbombs that shells is destruction on
compelled to conceal, sealed right on tyhe shelf
im there if uneed out amess
a real friend you can depend on
defend and my defense is strong

Long poem by Denise Hopkins | Details |


written 14th July 2013

My sorrow, is overwhelming my 'entire' soul
 for in my jaded life, my dear "Nath" would be the last breath taken away
Why does God, continue taking those that play the most 'critical' roll
 my life is 'never' going to endure, any hint of ease.. no way

Heart heavy, loss and pain all consuming me 'again'
 God, I plea with you leave me those that I 'love' these day's
It's become 'that' part of the year, my Nathan was taken due to 'my' curse
 tears flood my entire being, why do you always insist I live entirely 'alone'

Sorrow just in this year now at 'half point' has finally taken the 'full' toll
 I no longer see, any thing as my destiny that I shall 'exude'
When, will it 'ever' be my turn, I become the next called to heaven
 "am" I not worthy, of your abundant grace?

You, seem to take 'everyone' I 'entrust' to a faraway land
 Nathan Reide' these are my tears containing, the 'most sorrow' I've ever let fall
But, every memory of you and me, stop all of the pain
 just, another pain and despair to add to my life's endurance 'till'

I long, for peace, joy and 'any' kind of life would do me,
 at this point of my life, I can not take anymore, seriously, lighten up on me!
I fear in new friends, how long..before you conclude they too will end
 You bless me with a loving husband, mother, father, niece
When.. do you think you might, 'let' me see them... this  is my plea
 returning me back into church, I am in need off being blessed
How 'come' you did take that away from me? 
 faith, in me stayed 'strong' you alone know the extent

I need to move 'now' I have stayed still, and achieved what I think I was to 
 poet, I assume that was 'my reason' why you kept here
With that now in full swing
 can you now spread my wings

You are 'overpowering' my soul, and I now do as I am told
  patience, never was my best strength, have I 'not' proved to you
I'm completely at your mercy, you are the entity that drives the heart of me
 with all that, I need a break between all these sorrowful times, 'may I now move'

This is the deepest of despair, I have ever endured, please see me through
 I am more than 'positive' I WILL NOT make it through, another emotional trial
Not to be left here, still bleeding the way I still am...
 darkness has taking more of my light I'm loosing all sight, of who is me...

My heart full of anguish and grief, depression takes her advantage, of the ease
 I have nothing worth finding joy or enlightenment anyway, she will have me...
I don't have any strength to even consider the thought of even trying this time
 in defending myself against her this time
She only win's by default...

Denise Hopkins

Long poem by Poet Destroyer A | Details |


Featuring: Leonora Galinta
Take My Hands
I Offer Them To You
Hold Them Tight
Never Let Go Of Them!


With all the time on my hands
I gave my hands one job.
  My Hands 
-The Artist-

My hands paint everything in my life
they paint my weakness, my strength 
they paint the fire in my eyes
they hold me when I'm cold
my hands colored my childhood!

Like an architect, 
my hands drew the plans and layouts of my life.
My hands *very articulate, are they? 
They continue to sew and show the way  
Sometimes, my hands paint the truth
Sometimes, my hands paint lies
Painting hurtful images on dry wall
My palms, my fingers embedded calluses from every fall
Creating images, healing my heart
Sometimes my hands are the only friend I see. 

With no words to say
I caress the sky line like a mime
My hands ride the wind, 
My hands paint a world, 
each of their own. 

Young and pretty finger prints 
They feel, they hold, they grip
Don't let go!

Clever and cute
It's time for motherhood
My hands painted your first hold
Traced your first smile
A painting  I treasure forever in my heart
Yes! A Rembrandt they became during birth 
Now your all grown up...  :-(  
Embarrassed to embrace the hold
One day when I'm old you will hold my hands and remember the gold.

My hands paint many designs when it comes to love
sometimes a masterpiece 
sometimes a mistake
sometimes my hands felt images I can't describe
Made up moments of handicap when lost
My hands perfect when in love
They write songs when complete
So many interlock moment with you
Firm, the perfect match, my fingers spoke.

My hands 
-The Artist-
they've been told
held so many times
always meeting, greeting,  
waving hello's and goodbyes... ((you see my hands, they smile too))

Painful, arthritis 
cuts, bruises
Pinching my way through reality. 
Reaching holding on to dreams.
Snapping fingers, we are a team.

My hands age in every turning page
Shriveled and old
Still you embrace and love the hold
my hands touch and make a difference
my hands learned a lot
my hands prayed 
and knew their duty.
My hands employed by me.
When they are bored,
they tap and tap and draw THAT' annoying noise.

My hands know secrets, a fortune teller can never reveal
they hold the past, present, and  future in every line.
I extend my hands,
without flipping the bird
Thank you Hands!
I am enjoying the sign language show.

In my next life, or so
I will praise my hands
Yes so beautiful, tender, they love to feel...................

My Hands
-The Artist-
I can't believe with all the time I have on my hands.
I forgot to mention I'm left-handed.


Long Poems