My Hands

My hands tightly closed to a fist again The blood running Pulsating Wanting to draw out anger. And it opened, lending a hand The blood rushing Anticipating Wanting to draw out of happiness. Then fell down, unwillingly The blood flowing Excruciating Wanting to draw out pain. Can’t help it, can’t stop If these hands want to feel The rush, the want Of what it’s purposed to. Once again… …I penned.

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Beata Agustin

Date: 12/16/2024 5:07:00 AM

Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Meanwhile, I greet you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.

Poet Destroyer A

Date: 3/23/2016 11:43:00 AM

this is a wonderful poem, Cherie.. LINDA

Skat A

Date: 1/15/2016 8:19:00 PM

Cherie, I like every line of your poem above. Thank you for sharing. ** SKAT **